Memectomy

Memectomy

The poly-political parrot posts,

Any old thing anybody puts out;

Oft keeping alive ridiculous ghosts,

Of outrageous slogans that windbags spout.

Often they're lies or an argument dead,

Or cast aside, as it's no longer news.

Yet, it seems anything anyone said,

Lies dormant to recycle and reuse,

As the groundwork for yet another meme,

That skewers one person or another.

This should make many readers want to scream;

Yet, few voices ever seem to bother.

Is memectomy the panacea,

For recycled online diarrhea?

Mick McKellar

June 2014

Is it just by chance that emetic and memetic are so close? I still occasionally enjoy tracking an Internet meme -- especially something original, thoughtful, funny, or moving. However, of late, I’ve been awash in old spam and the worst sort of trash -- for example, a painting of someone like Thomas Jefferson with a “quote” spouting bigotry, vulgarity, and bad grammar. Oh, I forgot...it also usually has the admonition to “share” it if I truly love America (the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, my family, etc.). Yeah, right…

Mick

First Light

First Light

The bright fiery promise of dawn's first light,

Flickered through treetops limned golden, aglow;

As the cobwebs and shadows of twilight,

Afraid of the morning’s countenance bright,

Fled to the dark places all shadows go.

A happenstance audience on that day,

I stood transfixed on the edge of the road.

My moist eyes were brimming at the display,

Causing my heart, my staid mind to betray,

And I wept as emotions overflowed.

Gently the sun warmed the chill from the air,

Blessing the new day, and kissing the earth

Good morning, awakening ev’rywhere,

The sleepers, now roused and ready to share

The bounty which follows daily rebirth.

As I stood, and I faced the morning sun,

I basked in the warmth of our nearest star.

I felt all my problem knots come undone.

I felt as if life had again begun.

I knew, despite illness, I could go far!

Mick McKellar

June 2014

The touch of the sun on a summer’s morn, awakens life everywhere, even in old, broken me…

Mick

Eolith

 

 

 

 

 

Eolith

Too old to have run a full marathon,

Too young to have known old Agamemnon,

As classic as cabernet sauvignon,

I’m a natural old phenomenon.

Though most of my friends think I am docile,

Family know my ego’s colossal.

No, I did not befriend an Apostle,

Although some think I might be a fossil...

A grumpy grumbler and growler, herewith

Is curmudgeonly behavior’s sour pith:

I exist in nature, I’m not a myth,

The essence of cranky: an eolith

Mick McKellar

June 2014

e·o·lith

 [ee-uh-lith]

noun

a chipped stone of the late Tertiary Period in Europe once thought to have been flaked by humans but now known to be the product of natural, nonhuman agencies.

Light of Mind, Eyes of Heart

 

 

 

 

 

Light of Mind, Eyes of Heart

My fear danced darkly through my twilight dreams,

It stood behind me and whispered white lies:

That good news is not as sweet as it seems;

That smiles of my friends are only disguise.

Though science of mind set numbers ablaze,

As light for the path that reason prescribes,

Foggy statistics created a haze,

Confounding decisions with silent vibes.

Despite emotions still raw from abuse,

The art of my heart, after brief dismay,

Though hard to control and weak from disuse,

Was still strong enough to show me the way.

The light of my mind and eyes of my heart,

Worked better together than each apart.

Mick McKellar

June 2014

Though the blinding light of science illuminates a brighter future than I thought possible, the eyes of my heart see the hand of God leading me forward on that path.

Mick

Love and the Lonely Word

 

 

 

 

Love and the Lonely Word

I’ve learned that cancer is a lonely word,

That keeps me distant from most of my friends.

I wonder if I will ever be cured,

And I dream about how my story ends.

Though my soul beckons across that abyss,

My eyes plead pain and my heart softly cries;

My smile shouts falsely that nothing’s amiss,

And laughter lauds half-truths and sometimes, lies.

I would never darken their sunny days,

With tales of dark nights and terror alone.

I tell them I’m well, in so many ways,

The truth for that day can remain unknown.

Yet, I’m never lonely, despite that rift:

I feel their love and each day is a gift!

Mick McKellar

June 2014

If we're lucky enough, we learn early on that others ask us how we are doing because they want to hear that we are well and want to be happy for us. Unloading the dark terrors of the night in person makes others uncomfortable and uncertain how to respond. Such stories are best left to letters, e-mails, and printed word, for the gap that opens when you say, "Cancer," is palpable and painful to experience.

Mick

Meditation

Meditation

I woke, cast adrift on a sea of pain,

So far from home, I could not see the shore.

I dreamt of drifting light and free again,

Embracing pain and suffering no more.

I glimpsed the distant borders of that dream,

A rare occasion, when my mind would rest;

Though not as close as wishing made it seem,

And far to swim, though I might try my best.

I prayed for onshore winds to swiftly blow,

Caress fevered brow, and lift me gently,

To carry me to shore -- where I must go

If I am to escape my agony --

And leave the sea of pain behind, and more:

To sleep, upon that painless, peaceful shore.

Mick McKellar

May 2014

Neuropathy pain woke me at 3:00 AM and writing this meditation/visualization helped me drift away.

Mick

Dream Life

 

 

 

 

 

Dream Life

I dreamed a dream that made me cry,
Although it was about me living,
Because the price of life was high —
A cost that there was no forgiving.

I never woke up with a smile,
Instead my eyes were red from crying.
I told my fam'ly all the while,
I was OK, but I was lying.

For in my dream I was not nice,
My life was something I was buying.
For ev'ry day there was a price:
Each day I lived someone was dying.

Before my eyes would open wide,
I saw the victim I was robbing;
I felt the terror rise inside,
And heard each martyr softly sobbing.

I felt when each heart beat its last;
I knew the moment each was sinking.
It never happened very fast,
I knew the fear each one was thinking.

I saw the horror in their eyes,
And felt the pain as life was taken.
Then I would wake to take my prize,
And start the day completely shaken.

At first I did not understand,
Why I was given to such dreaming,
And why my life would death demand,
With no forgiveness, no redeeming.

I felt the terror late each night,
As I grew listless and so tired;
I could not once evade my plight,
The deal my suffering inspired.

So it continued day-to-day,
I earned the wages of my scheming.
My guilt would never go away,
My spirit ached from silent screaming.

Until at last I yearned for death,
I cried and hoped someone was list'ning;
Til I could barely catch my breath,
My face was wet, my eyes were glist'ning.

I offered up my life to pay,
The price for all the lives I'd stolen.
My voice was terrible and fey,
My eyes were desolate and swollen.

As I was screaming in the dark,
A sudden, golden light was glowing,
Upon my visage bleak and stark —
Its touch was peace and love bestowing.

A sound of beauty touched my heart.
A touch of wonder filled my being:
My veil of darkness torn apart,
By all the splendor I was seeing.

And then I felt my soul take flight,
Away from fear that left me reeling.
I flew directly toward the light,
And loved the love that I was feeling.

I woke up safely in my bed,
And thanked the Lord I was not dead.

Mick McKellar
March 2014

Sometimes, my dreams can be more frightening than my strongest fear, and yet so inspirational they leave me with a sense of wonder.

Mick