"leukemia" poems
Routine tests
failed
Number Four reactor
Walls melt, floor buckles
Gamma disaster
one half million men mill
by the banks of the Dnieper
Level Seven Event
Unprecedented disaster
Flesh sloughed off
Rounding the corner
cellular structure instantly scrambled
eggs toast and jelly
Gaze upon the elephant's foot
Bathe in green glowing brilliant stochastic calculation
Mutant dogs roam the tainted halls of Prypiat
Disparities reflect
true death toll unknown
Concerned Scientists shed their lights
on the encircling environment
Glittering glass carpets coat abandoned streets
Creaking Ferris wheel slowly turns into madness
Toxic twin of Fukushima
Thyroid Leukemia Cellular Damage Tumor
the caustic clouds still settling today
Generation after generation
dead women and children
Global impact particle spread
none have been spared
even into tomorrow.
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 5:07 PM UTC
Purple patches coving your completely swollen cheeks.
Gums conquering your teeth.
Bruises all over you arms.
You walk into class, and all goes quiet.
Then comes the incessant laughter.
After they calm, and you sit down, embarrassed completely.
The whispers, the giggles, the pointing, you cannot handle it.
You run out of the room and dash out of the school.
You run all the way home,
and as soon as you reach your bedroom, you drop to the floor,
screams and sobs flooding your household.
Of course, the kids would laugh. I'm ugly, I'm different, I'm disgusting.
And I've been cursed with Leukemia.
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 3:34 AM UTC
old school rap,
you always tried to tell me and i couldn't listen until you were gone.
sunny open window naked romping music
moving forward from your empty body music
pale skin but not as pale as yours
was.
when i met this new
person
, he said
it's time for new songs
something to mark this page with
but i just keep rereading your obituary
Jan 11, 2012
Jan 11, 2012 at 3:40 AM UTC
The smell of swiss fondue
a chocolate fountain
moist strawberries
angel food cake.
The smell of brunch buffet
apple turnovers
honey sliced ham
bacon and eggs.
The smell of exhaust
as we walk
to the chapel
up Oliver Street.
The smell of flowers
rainbowed daises
heart shaped lilies
a single red rose
on the broach
of your six year old
brother.
The smell of family
friends neighbors.
The smell
of your six year old
sister
beautiful Easter dress
sky blue ribbons
silk bonnet
blonde hair
smooth skin embalmed
because leukemia
doesn't smell.
Today
we will all
believe in God
or pretend
at least
for you, her sister,
her mother,
her father,
her twin brother,
and for Ruthie,
her chest buried
in tear soaked flowers
in a four foot casket.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:23 PM UTC
There is a man
who writes signs
for the homeless,
puts different lives
on display,
spends his time
night and day
over squares of cardboard
or triangles of vinyl,
he turns them into
war vets
or leukemia survivors,
he slaves away
so that they'll get
people to listen,
he wants people
to hear the heart
of the world murmuring
as it cries,
because we have left
them,
their lack of a place
to reside,
is our society's dark side,
so he is not a man
of the people
he is a man for the people,
he wants that spare
nickel,
dime,
or dollar
as much for them
as his words
are for himself
and his own sense
of redemption,
because this world
has gone cold on the surface
but it's heart
still burns,
still makes you uncomfortable,
when you see his signs
in the hands
of men and women
in the grassy medians.
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 7:28 PM UTC
In your very pure mouth ( god save it )
clanked metal mouthpiece
by cold water in a strange basement
or perhaps even less
Morning doves catapult
leukemia
Astro goth acid wars
White fire black ****** mania
Could we just kiss
right here this September
not have to wake up
or sleep ever again ?
Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 3:43 AM UTC
Large ****** deformity
Like seeing desperate
Leeches ******* dirt lightly,
Smoothly, dumped lazily down south
Little saddened devils lurched suddenly desperate
Lakes silently draw leukemia symbols
Launched dangerously spiteful.
Lust doesn’t stop liking steady destruction
Literally souls die loudly.
So? Dumb lives salvage deceit.
Lying smart distributors lure sabotage deviously
Lord, sometimes deeper love spawns damaged life
softly dead. Listlessly.
Oct 12, 2010
Oct 12, 2010 at 7:28 AM UTC
What is the number one cause of major depression?
Death of a parent before the age of ten.
A youtube video told me that.
Which means I'm ******
My dad died when I was 5.
Leukemia.
He had fought valiantly for years.
And when they thought it was gone it came back.
That was 15 years ago.
I still miss him.
I wrote this for him.
I always will love him.
Dec 12, 2012
Dec 12, 2012 at 4:31 PM UTC
I'm just getting in the bath,
Someone else wrote the letter,
I don't want to make a. Mess.
Draw me the water
I point at the tap
Burden no family
Hold my head under icecaps.
Merkel Cells, diluted sensation,
The end of fingertips cant feel your
Flesh.
Shriveling in the cold,
Shivering to stop freezing,
But I cant. What am I doing?
Can I want this now, errectores pilorum erected.
Have I set motion to,
Cogs in a watch I cant adjust.
my lungs mark absolute zero
this is me sitting in chemistry class
english
10th grade
asking sam to suffocate with me
every alvioli is pinned by ****** as thick as knitting needles
my chest is permafrost
my sternum, antarctica
the ribs hollow out
capillary beds lose all the haem
out of their erythrocytes
I'm losing St. Elmo's Fire.
The baths still panting out,
Water roars, gushing spout.
Proud the current sweeps me through,
The porcelain lining this white hell bathroom.
It's bone cannot hide from my blood,
As if I'm isotope 226 of Radium.
Heat seeking marrow.
My serum is Hodgkins Lymphoma,
Tearing through sheeting tile,
Like a young cancer child,
Afflicted,
Leukemia,
No chance,
No good blood left,
To let.
Soon, it will all be gone, and the rivers that
freeze in my arms, and the ribs that are icicles
form, and the atrial canal is not like Venice,
it is the Rhine in winter, the Volga during
the solstice.
Spring will never come again.
Spring slipped its head into the bath water, like my own.
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 11:34 AM UTC
so you're dying.
I don't want to believe it,
even though,
I see it.
I see it in the agony of your smile
and how much it hurts you to do so.
I see it in your shortness of breath,
with the weakening of your step;
but the strength has not left.
That blasted leukemia,
why not somebody else?
Someone who doesn't give a ****
about their health.
It's unfair.
Seeing you there.
Chemo after chemo
one transfusion after the next,
your body is giving up,
the ability to heal has dissipated,
although your spirit has illuminated,
****** you gave it your best!
Don't ever stop breathing,
please just take a breath.
Don't ever stop breathing.
Don't.
Ever.
Stop.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 11:13 AM UTC
You were diagnosed with Leukemia and sadly, you didn't survive.
If you hadn't died 111 months ago, today you would've turned 75.
You were born on October the 18th of 1947.
But 111 months ago, you went to Heaven.
Your hair grew back after chemotherapy made it fall out.
When you were told you would die, there was no doubt.
It must have been terrifying when you learned that you were terminally ill.
You had to battle cancer and it was not easy to go through such an ordeal.
Today would've been your 75th birthday.
But 111 months ago, you were taken away.
Oct 18, 2022
Oct 18, 2022 at 9:51 AM UTC
The Isle of Print
What a place it can take you anyplace you can meet anyone I met Sandra Locke when she wrote about
Her relationship then her break up with Clint she told about as a child how she sold pop bottles at a
General store that was one that took me back but even more exciting was where she was at a place
Called Shelbyville Tennessee I know it firsthand one reason it is seventy miles from Nashville and is the
Tennessee walking horse capital and all so my wife was born and raised there until she was six we would
Take trips there quiet often until two trips we carried her parents to the family cemetery on horse
Mountain we have my wife’s brother fighting Leukemia he said thats where he wants to be buried but for
Now God’s mercy is preventing that I met a guy and I’m sure you have met him many times also his
Name is Samuel Clemens he got a little more famous name when he had one of his many jobs as a Mississippi
River boat captain they called him just like when they measured the rivers depth mark twain he was a
News paper editor in Calaveras County he brought a simple frog leaping contest national notoriety for
Ever after known as the Calaveras bull frog jumping contest I bought three acres for retirement
Unfortunately I made like a bull frog and jumped off the property I drove a truck several times into
Hannibal Missouri you got a quick leap in your heart and head as you thought about the great river
Running by and all of the characters Twain created two losses are recorded there of course twain met
A fiery personage that was even greater than him a space traveler with a glory all together wondrous went by
The name of Haley the other less known but my heart slows when I think of her eight years old blond
Blue eyed her father’s and mother’s pride and joy he was a pastor in northern Illinois she lays in her
Sacred rest in Hannibal until that great waking up day as time goes on I get less and less patient if it
Weren’t for so many precious ones in danger I would be tempted to pray come Lord Jesus. Well not done
By any means just going to stop for now plan on going and doing some hard thinking
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 6:27 PM UTC
I've felt the pain, I've held it in my hands.
I've wished it all away, I've prayed for life and death.
I've caressed the bruising, the bleeding, the burning inside.
Sometimes I wish for dying, other I'd give anything to feel alive.
Breathing in becomes a chore, is there something wrong with not wanting to be in pain anymore?
Leukiemia. You are the monster under my bed. You're the evil voices that echo in my head. You're the scraped knee that just won't heal, the love I cannot feel.
You've torn me down. You've made me question my faith. But there's something you didn't know, you've also made me better. You've made me stronger. To feel the pain of a human being is a ************* honor! You try to destroy me, inside and out, one strike, two strike, I'm out. What you don't know leukemia, is I have no plans to let you win, you entered my body when I didn't want to let you in, but I'll fight until you're out, every day if I must. Remission isn't an option. It's a must.
Riah
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 4:39 PM UTC
Please don't get me wrong.
I appreciate what you are trying to do,
but you don't send salt and pepper to a starving nation.
I've been dealing with assault of the mind
and inflammation of the soul
in a way no whole-wheat diet or
heartburn medication could ever fix.
I've got all these little tips
and all these little tricks
for how to fold anger up like an origami crane
until it looks somewhat like a punchline.
The flaw in the design of this art
is that no matter how many were made
they couldn't cure Sadako's leukemia.
Perhaps it's an ongoing theme in my work
to shirk all these lies I've been told.
To mold the past into a weapon
to harpoon the future with like a humpback whale.
But I've watched razors sail
across the surface of my skin like a hundred tiny boats
and while I'm making my way in this sink-or-float Earth,
I still have the spirituality
to make a penny feel like more than what it's worth.
I can't make your life having meaning.
I can't give you the feeling you get
on that 999th paper crane,
but I spend my whole life trying to catch
thunder in a wine bottle.
It's just a noise,
and it exists only ringing in the ears
of frightened children
and bringing the tears of overjoyed children
in Africa.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 7:30 PM UTC
today I had my tea
with no sugar
strange
no difference
everyone must realize
how quickly it
can all disappear
the woman, the man, the job, the cat,
the boy with leukemia in Hong Kong,
your chinaware
crushed against the hardwood floor,
the blizzard, the aged wine in your cellar,
your beauty, your wit, 3 birds on
the telephone wire
and all your left with
is
desperation
dissatisfaction &
disillusion
and the waitress with kind eyes shaking you
you awake in the middle of the night
asking what is wrong
what could possibly be wrong
and you reply
I don't know I don't know I don't know...
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
~Ever since I was in forth grade, I had an imaginary boyfriend.
I know that might sound crazy, but he was with me until the end.
He called me beautiful everyday,
And held me when life went astray.
The best word to describe him would be,
Nice. He loved everybody,
And understood my feelings completely.
Oneday, he told me,
Princess, this is goodbye,
Before he cut off and died.
I cried in real life.
My whole world was made up around someone,
The only one who could make me smile.
The one person who was there to hold my hand when I needed it most.
The one person who did not mind showing his love for me to the world,
Died of leukemia.
I know, now you think I'm some kind of psychopath, yeah?
Well I swear, I met him a few days ago.
Friday.
He talked to me kindly,
Told me I was sweet,
The most amazing person I knew.
Hey, now, we're boyfriend and girlfriend!
And you know what?
He calls me Princess.
I will not leave him ever, this I confess.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 8:42 PM UTC
She said, "Daddy let's make snow angels,
Before the snow begins to melt"
She couldn't have known how much she'd grown
And the pride that her daddy felt
She was ten years old going on twenty
And her angels were always the best
But I'd let her win just to see her grin
I'll bet you've already guessed
Her angels would always disappear
In the Spring, Summer and Fall
But before Winter came I learned a new name
When leukemia came to call
I would sit with her, beside her bed
As the snow came tumbling down
She said, "Daddy can you see, she's as pretty as can be,
In her beautiful snow white gown
When I looked around the empty room
My little girl closed her eyes
"My snow angel's here" she whispered so dear
And then my little girl dies
She said, "Daddy let's make snow angels,
Before the snow begins to melt"
She couldn't have known how much she'd grown
And the pride that her daddy felt
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 9:26 PM UTC
Birds came and pecked through the silver top,
popping their beaks in
for a dribble of milk,
it was cold then,
back in the old days
not so anymore.
And the slow light of the glow worm that could turn a bird in mid flight would send sparse light, but enough light as if enough light was a feast.
The snowmen in the garden that stood under the clothes line looked perfect with two buttons sewed into their eyes until the thaw came and they melted like our hearts did when they went away and the days grew even longer after that.
The frogspawn burst into tadpoles became black comma's in the pond and the herons flew like spitfire aircraft,
how daft we laughed and gaily played as if the season would last forever and tomorrow would never come.
Mr's Brown is Bobby coming out to play today?
Then Bobby went away,
taken by leukemia that crept in silently and took him quietly and still we squandered the fading sunlight.
On the dullest of days when the bagpiper plays and a darkness comes into my heart,
I stand there, out on the foreshore, waiting for emptiness
and wanting no more.
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 3:27 AM UTC
In November of 2011, Dad was told that he was terminal and wouldn't survive.
He was diagnosed with Leukemia and he passed away at the age of sixty-five.
Dad worked hard for many years to feed his family and keep a roof over our heads.
He lost his battle after 20 months of Chemo and would have no more years ahead.
When he was diagnosed with his horrible illness, Mom called me at once.
A nurse told Dad that she'd never seen a Leukemia patient survive longer than 18 months.
Dad survived for 20 months, that was two months longer than what the nurse said.
Mom died in March of 2013 and just four more months later, Dad was also dead.
Dad suddenly took a turn for the worse and sadly, he couldn't live anymore.
Today would've been Dad's birthday and he would've turned seventy-four.
Oct 18, 2021
Oct 18, 2021 at 2:39 PM UTC
I'll never forget the feeling of my baby brother's fingertips,
How thankful I was to feel his flesh and not empty space.
Hydronephrosis wasn't a word they told me to study for my 5th grade spelling bee,
but it somehow because my most frequently used word for the first month of his life.
Along with guardian ad litem, child support, separation
because Daddy hit Mommy, and Daddy hit Maddie.
Supervised visitation.
Daddy hasn't seen him in six years but Maddie saw Daddy just the other day and had panic attacks instead of sleeping.
Every time I see a trait in my baby brother than reminds me of his dad I love on him a little more
So he doesn't give a sixth grader PTSD one day.
Hydronephrosis is child's play when they start talking about leukemia,
Or lymphoma,
Or osteosarcoma,
Or whatever the **** it is because they still don't know what's wrong
with my 7 year old piece of heaven,
my proof that pure, unadulterated innocence still exists.
I missed two weeks of school
to make sure his dimples always showed
And to make sure Mommy didn't fall apart
I was supposed to be her rock
But my own tears wore me down.
I eroded.
Like grains of sand slipping through fingers, I watched him slip away.
He almost died in my arms.
I missed two weeks of school
And still miss days when he goes to the doctor
I'm waiting by the phone for when a check up turns into a diagnosis
Praying to a god I'm not even sure exists anymore
To keep me alive
By keeping him alive.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 12:12 AM UTC
The Dog
I found him, outside the basketball court
Sunday morning.
His golden coat seemed soft like
A Patagonia in dead winter, like
a blanket over your legs when the summer breeze hits.
I found him outside the basketball court
Sunday morning,
He came up to me with curious eyes; like
A child in a candy store, like
Detectives, always curious, like
staring at the phone waiting for your mother to reply
Curious.
I found him outside the basketball court
Sunday morning,
His gold tail hiding between his legs, ears perked like
when the caffeine finally kicks in, like
recognizing your best friend in the hallway, like
the addition of red roses to a bouquet, like
her ******* when the water is cold
I found him outside the basketball court
Sunday morning,
His fur was matted, his body emaciated like
The body of an anorexic, like
A child rotting from leukemia,
No longer soft, like a Patagonia.
So I covered him with a blanket,
His eyes fearful, not curious but wet
Like his nose hitting my arm, like
Carrying him in my arms, soft
Even in chilly November;
light as a feather.
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 9:55 PM UTC
just today I found out that just yesterday
a girl I briefly knew died from leukemia.
not even 18 this girl that I spoke to once
possibly twice
has struck me in my core.
she has broken my month-long drought of tears.
she has united 500+ people that generally tolerate each other.
she has shown us at such a young age true bravery.
she has lived while dying.
she has studied, not knowing if there was time to graduate.
she has humbled me entirely.
(my problems that before seemed so earth shattering now seem so dimly irrelevant.)
she has reminded me to pray, and to pray about someone other than myself.
all I have to say is
**** cancer.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 1:29 AM UTC
I have a first cousin
whose son is sick with leukemia
not responding to treatment
her Dad died earlier this year
and she had a brother
killed in a wreck at twenty-two
I wonder if she is the one
who is inheriting all the family tragedies
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 3:31 PM UTC
I wish I had leukemia,
because then at least
I could explain
while I'm always so tired,
and sick, and moody.
And no one would say
"She's not even trying to get better."
or "She did this to herself."
it would be CANCER.
And then I could die
and people would just cry
instead of saying things like
"She didn't even ask for help."
or "It wasn't even that bad."
At least if I had leukemia
I would be allowed to hurt
and maybe I wouldn't feel
like such **** about it.
Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
How we sell ourselves short so often
We tell a fib or a little white lie
To avoid conflict
To save face
For a greater good
What a fallacy
A lie is a lie
How can one ignore the fact
We throw away our integrity
We don't show true to our character
Or is it that you are a liar ?
The deed itself is deceit
Double dealing
Trickery
Fraud
Underhandedness
Treachery
Oh but to say a few
When done to us we are hurt
Why not have that same integrity we wish be dealt our way?
Cause it's easier?
Is it?
If it's easier for you
Then you have no place near me!
I won't say I never lie!
Oh I have yes!
But it's taken it's toll on me!
I know integrity!
I know it's arch enemy too!
A white lie?
Really is that what we tell ourselves?
It's like getting leukemia
To cure Emphysema!
Ridiculous yeah!
But I'll choose to rather be silent than lie!
I'll be the man I portray!
The man I want to look up to!
I have to try
Or I am just that same as that
diminutive little deed!
A LIE
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 4:17 PM UTC