Saturday, June 6, 2020

A Cancer Poem

Rest in peace my Love.

June 8, 1967-February 15, 2020

By Professor Doomed
(published posthumously)

Allow today’s post as a poem I wrote:

Every day is cancer day, every single day

Every day is cancer day, it never goes away

Cancer in the morning, afternoon and night

Cancer in the darkness, cancer in the light

Cancer treatments, cancer pain

Cancer just comes back again

Cancer life is constant fright

This is not a cancer fight

Cancer hokum, cancer lies

Ev’ry one with cancer dies

“Trust me,” says another doc

But it’s just another crock

Cancer doctor wrong again

Cancer doctor rakes it in

Cancer doctor never right,

Cancer doctor just a blight

“Don’t give up” they do refrain

But the cancer’s back again

Kill my future, kill my past,

Doctors now kill me at last



Every day was cancer day, every single day

Every day was cancer day, it never went away…

(Apparently I’ve died, and a friend is posting for me. What follows are the remainder of my posts re: higher ed, followed by a few other entries. Alas, laptop troubles caused some 6 months of my writing to vanish into smoke recently, and I don’t have the energy to try to rewrite so much. I summarize:)

In the sex trade, a “child prostitute” is basically a big source of revenue. You rent it out to a monster, who brutalizes that “prostitute” as much as possible. If the child survives, then it’s passed on to another monster, generating more revenue. The owner repeats this until the child dies.

That’s the sex trade. In modern medicine, the equivalent is clearly “cancer patient,” although it’s possibly just “patient.” In any event, every time I realize I’ve been screwed over horribly, I just get passed to a new doctor.

I understand that I was an adult when I first trusted a doctor not to hurt me, and that I kept coming back to these monsters and so to a large extent I deserve what happened to me. Damn MDA in Houston for doing so much harm without so much as an apology.