poems on Heath Ledger and Pro Corp

Here are a couple of new poems I wrote tonight. (Hot off the presses!) I know, death seems to be my favorite poem topic; but come on, how can it not be? I will never run out of material.

I happened to drive by Pro a few nights ago and, as always, it made me melancholy.


death by a thousand cuts
for the Pro-phy-lac-tic Brush Company, 1866 - 2007

she was a behemoth
in her heyday
commanding respect
with each foray into
her local surroundings
and eventually the world

many came to her as well
to help sustain their lives
as best they could

but once her blood
had been spilled
and not staunched
in any number of ways
it could have been
each system shut down

more life pooled
onto the streets
hoping to be absorbed
by some other entity

death is familiar in the end
vultures came to pick away
the choicest bits
leaving this corpus
abandoned beside the river

ltv


Like many people, I was saddened to learn of Heath Ledger's death yesterday. From what I have read so far it has all the earmarks of an accidental overdose. I wrote this after hearing a story that there were several different types of prescription drugs found in his apartment some of which had been prescribed by European doctors (as if that makes a difference, it could just as easily been a slew of American doctors). I could do a whole rant just on Western Culture's over-prescribing of medications, but I think I'll just settle on one poem for now.

no indication of foul play
for Heath Ledger, 1979 - 2008

pills taken for anxiety
insomnia, pain
carelessly prescribed
to someone with privilege
but without the right
of information

did he even see
the doctor
who signed his
death sentence
or was this task
delegated to someone
less visible
someone also trying
to help him cope

was he even told
not to take them
too close together
was he warned
that the blue ones
might make him sleepy
too sleepy to realize
not to take the white ones
or was he simply assured
"this should help"

ltv