I share my wife and bed with another guy
They look into each others' eyes and with love they sigh
It's not easy, but there is so much love
And support from the angels and devas above

It is a challenge, we are all full of desires and need
We share laughter, massage, mystery, and games
With careful, open eyes we proceed

In the morn sometimes she's exhausted from their labors of love
I serve her a fruit shake, creamy and cold
And we listen, dazed to the morning dove
As the sun rises, hues of bronze and gold

Some may think a ******* is the cat's meow
An exciting adventure of discovery, and how!
But there's a lot of homework on this path of old

Even if the other guy is only eight months old!
Even if it's all about lactation
Not *******
It's still a path to walk where so many riches unfold!

a home of unrest survives in my old town where
madness seeps through jaundice colored halls,
lapping life from rotted brains.

grim photos of grandchildren
deform walls,
but old folks don’t remember.
they wear nametags.
who am i? residents wail
for mommy, their ’86 kitten,
a bus pass from chicago or
the wrong god.

her eyes are sallow.
tunnel vision, they say.
cloudy hues without purpose.
bags under gramma’s lids hang
          like dead gangsters
and bifocals settle around her neck,
in case she gains a pang
              of clarity.

Lovely Rita,
once a fat cook is now slender as a fang.
she forgets to eat.

my guttural granny, she stutters
incoherent, mostly.
but today, she babbles
        an omen.

watch o u t
      thing s are
    g o nn a
h h h appen
  
she retreats,
deteriorating.

"I have no idea what she's doing lying there on the floor.
                                                                She's not moving.
                                            I'll go and play with this rattle."

"Papa's just sleeping. He'll wake up from that big box bed.
                                                      And we can play ball then."

"Our neighbor died. I think he got punished for not being nice to us.
                                         I should be nice to everyone so I won't die."

"We're all going to die at the end.
      What scares me is I don't know when."

I think that the world is a hospital.
And we are all patients awaiting treatments to achieve the life we want.
But for this treatment, I think I'm the wrong patient.

Some may call me a medical prodigy,
with my fascination of the sciences of man.
And my keen memory of endless medical jargon.

Books upon books, my brain ticks late of night.
Studying every page, text by text.
Everything I need to get someone better.

It feels wonderful to see someone feel better.
But it's as if I'm infected by their misery.
Why am I doing here, anyways?

This world needs good doctors.
I know I can be a great doctor.
I just don't want to.

In conversation about
the realities of War
a salient observation
surfaced again and
yet again - that current
creators of film or TV
images favour clean,
so fail the filth test
that for troops and those
who tend them once
bullets & shells have
wrought their harm
scar everywhere with
muck & misery - such
crisp white pinafores
and hair so carefully
coiffeured just never
figured - real warfare
harrows like The Victors
& D-Day scenes which
open Saving Private Ryan
as bloodily as any wound.

(c) C J Heyworth June 2014

I stood in line
to be weighed
in the bathroom
of the nursing home

Anne crutched herself
behind me
you haven't
got a chance in hell

of winning
that chocolate bar Kid
she said
I've seen more meat

on a butcher's pencil
stuck behind his ear
might win
I said

might fly
she said  
the kid in front of me
got on

the green metal scales
and the nun
moved the weight
along the top

not you Malcolm
she said
the kid got off sulkily
I got on the scales

and the nun
moved the weight
I looked at her
black and white

headdress
her pinched features
not you Benny
she said

I got off
and walked away
Anne awkwardly
got on the scales

holding herself
on her one leg
the stump
of the other

hanging there
best so far Anne
the nun said
told you Kid

you didn't
have a chance
guess not
I said

as she crutched herself
along side of me
not to worry
if I get the choco bar

I’ll give you
a quarter for being
a good friend
no other

in this *******
gets a look in
we went along
to our rooms

come in Kid
she said
I hesitated
come in

I want to
ask you something
I stood swaying
uncertain

what if
one of the nuns
comes along?  
what if I don't give you

quarter of the choc bar?
she said
I followed her in
to the girls dorm

no one else
was there
just she and me
she closed the door

with her backside
right Kid
I want you
to do me

a favour
favour?
I said
sensing uncertainty

hit my gut
yes I want you
to sneak along
to the kitchen tonight

and liberate
some biscuits
liberate?
I said

biscuits?
yes you know
what biscuits are
don't you

those hard things
with cream in the middle
or chocolate
on one side

I know what biscuits are
I said
but what do you mean
liberate?

take some
from the big tin
they have
on the shelf

in larder
take?
I said
you mean steal?

steal
take
liberate
whatever word

you want
to use Kid
what if I get caught?
don't get caught

but what if I do?
Anne sighed
sat on the edge
of her bed

I thought you
were someone
I could rely on Kid
not some cowardly custard

yellow belly
I looked
at her leg stump
sticking out

the other leg
reached to the floor
if you're really good
I’ll let you touch

my stump
she said
no need
I said

I'll try tonight
sneak down
after lights out
good Kid

she said
she took my right hand
and lay it
on the stump

and held it there
it felt warm
and soft
she let my hand go

good huh?
wish the rest
was there
she said

off you go
and don't get caught
I nodded
and backed out

of the room
seeing her cover
the stump
with her dress

and smile
see you
I said
you bet

she said
I walked away
thinking
of the big steal

of biscuits
unthought through
by my 10 year old brain
as yet.

I sit at your bedside to provide you comfort and a true friendship that only one of the dying could ever understand. I hold your hand as you struggle to breathe, and I silently pray you find some relief, and I wipe the beads of sweat from your face and whisper let it be. And once you have finally let go of this world in the most satisfying of peace, and once your soul has taken flight from this very moment to be, I thank God for allowing me to spend it with you. When my time arrives, I can only hope there is such a caring spirit to fulfill such a dire need.