December 3, 2004

• “Psalms to a Different God”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  December 2nd 2004 5:12 a.m. pst
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  WE are all alone together
  Either practicing love for our BROTHERS and SISTERS
  Or trying to kill THEM
  
  WE are saddled with responsibilities
  These WE sometimes ignore
  And sometimes WE rarely speak
  To the PEOPLE next door
  
  Huddled in HUMANITY with or without a clue
  Lifting OUR arms heavenward
  WE pray
  In the name of Jesus, Allah, Buddha, and Zeus
  Mother Gaia, and the many Bacchuses of mispent youth
  WE turn to YOU, whoever YOU may be
  But sometimes the questions aren’t answered, YOU see
  
  WE are in this TOGETHER
  Can WE take the time to talk
  To iron out OUR differences
  To spout OUR philosophies in the light
  of reason
  As WE pray to our Gods for answers
  
  The answer lies not in the question
  The answer lies not in the pleading
  The answer lies not in
  OUR Psalms to Different Gods
  The answer lies in OURSELVES
  And it always has
  Through time immemorial
  And into the future of humankind
  
  I may thank MY God
  YOU may thank YOURS
  But let’s practice the love OUR Gods preach
  And let’s not let OUR differences stop US
  Or else there will be NO ONE left to
  Sing HIS praises
  Whomever HE may be
  When WE are all gone from existence
  Because WE didn’t listen with OUR hearts

  
  

   

  
  

  “The Cancerboy Diaries: Entry the 3rd”
  poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  December 3, 2004 5:11 a.m. pst

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

  
  

  It’s all over now, or is it?
  That’s the questions on our minds this week
  The last week of the treatments
  Knock wood

  
  

  I know I can’t believe it’s been as long
  As it has been, this waiting
  With you seemingly the same
  Little change
  Same habits,
  Except of course the sleepiness that
  arrives a couple of hours after each injection
  And now those injections,
  for all intense intents and purpose
  Are succeeding in eradication
  Or so we hope again and won’t know
  Until that fateful doctor’s visit on the ninth

  
  

  Your stamina remained, as did those bad habits
  The cigarette smoke still swirls above your head
  The beer bottles still pile up on the sideboard
  (although you’ve been forced to drink them warm
  because of the treatment’s drawbacks)

  
  

  The pills and the pills to counteract the other pills
  Thankfully you have not had to suffer much
  The Picc line in your arm,
  An answer to the bruising that could have
  Spread thanks to the loss of platelets
  Which served to clot your blood in better times
  Failed and spit the saline solution
  So they removed it last week
  It made you look like a Frankenstien monster
  With a permanent vein in your arm dangling

  
  

  Now the Picc line is removed
  As in hopes so is the cancer
  But no one knows
  Or they’re not telling yet.
  
  (NOTE: The first and second Cancerboy Diaries poems (written for my roommate Joel, who just finished his chemotherapy treatments and is waiting for the “answer” on whether he is cured or not, can be read by clicking on the links. MFN)

  • 8:29 am
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