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Common Cold

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Even the common cold Is a luxury I can’t afford to suffer through For I’ll give in to temptation And develop complications In a day or two Grow blistering drops of sweat About my neck and head And if I remember Hippocrates The sophist of mucus and piss

Correctly such sweats are really Bad off to a quarantine A drifting hospital Bound for international waters Those about to expire are filed in Simply known as floaters The white pill then the blue one  And the green ‘If you don’t fight Lad you won’t win’ says the nurse From behind the tray as in contempt I turn away In doing so I catch a glimpse Of one of the crew He is Prometheus a Greek sailor The fellow caught the bird flue And now’s fading due to liver failure I wonder if he’s that soloist who Was reduced to the rhythm section The finger of the offended Deity Ever pointed in his direction But I have my own matters To attend to For I can not quite comprehend The possibility of myself No longer being here The thought that someone Else will waste the air While In an elegant glass jar Air sealed with cedar tar Preserved in pure alcohol My frail shell Oh in the name of hell Halt that is why I can’t afford to suffer Through the common cold

 

Comments (3)

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Once again, a very good work from a very good poet. I've seen this format from you a couple of times now, i.e. dense with no punctuation, allowing each thought to roll into another. I think it's effective. This may be one of the more personally...

Once again, a very good work from a very good poet. I've seen this format from you a couple of times now, i.e. dense with no punctuation, allowing each thought to roll into another. I think it's effective. This may be one of the more personally revealing poems that I've seen of yours also. The last few sentences were especially strong.

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Joshua Hennen
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Quid quid you old son of a bitch- This is a wonderful resurrection of your dominance of the verbal assault of all things living or dying. I want to commend you on my favorite lines, but you touted so many good one I would have to repeat the...

Quid quid you old son of a bitch- This is a wonderful resurrection of your dominance of the verbal assault of all things living or dying. I want to commend you on my favorite lines, but you touted so many good one I would have to repeat the entire work. I love your stuff best when it's not over dressed. Keep up the good work my window friend. (Grow blistering drops of sweat-Reduced to the rhythm section-The finger of the offended deity- and of course-I in a glass jar sealed with cedar tar. "the cats meow dude, the cats meow"

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Vangoman
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Thank You both very much!
Well it isn’t really one of my favorites – too many I’s. The only part I’m proud of is the one about Prom. catching bird flew and his liver going bad, but then i guess it’s kind of an inside joke
Anyhoo thanks again

quidquid
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