Calamitous Cruel

   
   "Calamitous Cruel"
   
First, I tell my brother that Mom has fallen five years ago,
And he laughs, no surprise, since when my Dad died, he said:  "I'm relieved, for I have ego."
Next, thugs come over, torture Mom's hallucinations from Lewy Body with vile t.v.--
Her sitting and crying, while they read books on Lucifer in front of her and me;
Moreover, the thug attempts to poison my therapy dog with a peach pit,
And almost crushes the hound with a therapy chair, my Mom having a fit.
More stuff too, reserved for the day;
Alas, a new pseudo-caretaker, with a big lazy ass--buttocks decay!
Sleeps half her shift, snoring with sass,
Having no idea about genuine class--
On her cell phone loudly while getting paid by the days, 
And controlling the television's ways.
Yet when I go out of the room she turns down the t.v. rudely
To cruelly talk on her cell phone, more obnoxiously,
Yet I ask her to stop jacking up her cell phone, that rings:  "Motherfucker!"
She bitches me out; then, is consoled by a text from my sister-in-law's undercover,
While Mom and me are fighting for our lives--
And more come over that don't jive.
Just yesterday, I politely asked the new lady to take her private phone calls outside in the sunny day--
While I feed my Mom, and we watch the Dick Van Dyke show and pray.
She jumps in my face, her red dreadlocks like the devil,
Making me want to be a rebel,
For uncouth and thuggish behavior
Is inappropriate, and it doesn't favor
The sick and maligned,
And my step-dad hides away for years, out of design--
Not once feeding my Mom, knocking her out of bed, 
And I find her on the floor with a bump and blood on her head.
Like that one lady who dropped her in the shower,
Being more than a trumpet--blaring on her cell phone louder
While getting paid to hound her,
And nobody takes my mother out save me,
Or visits regularly,
And when they do it's a mix of whiskey and guns,
Armed with loud mouths and obnoxious fun,
Almost driving her to suicide when she was younger,
And torturing my childish mute, rocking me with shaking thunder.
Plus, step-dad drinks all of my medication,
And my brother asks for pills in the past for his buzzed elation.
Telling me they'll throw me out of the house,
And sister-in-law smiling, saying to put Mom away over a year ago, trapping her like a mouse.
Do they just want to shoot her in the head?
Are they mad that she's not dead?
Talk to her, play nice television, and use soothing aromatherapy--
Not dismissing her suffering by imprisoning her unearthly anxiety.
Further having taken her to a notary
On Haldol and Xanax combined,
Years ago, making her sign.
It's all sick, happening under a physician's  murderous prescription,
And a misdiagnosis without the Good Lord's permission.
Then, my brother tries to get her on another anti-psychotic to supposedly ease,
Which further kills people with dementia-related disease;
Moreover, she had breast cancer and it brings that back with a tease.
Nobody has bought her clothes in over two years,
And she sits in rags while they all disappear,
But I've spent over 4,000 dollars on her, making only a few hundred each month,
And big brother gives step-dad 10,000 dollars to further put on the crunch,
But when you have college girl porn in your house,
I guess that's the way of a loving spouse,
And my gut is killing me as is the insomnia and multiple sleep disorders;
Plus, the panic of contamination from crossing into public borders.
They laugh at me for washing off my canned foods, because that's all I can afford,
While buying Mom vitamins and fruit and ice cream, yet in my colon they stick the sword,
Neglecting both her and me,
Oh well, they too will get sick one day; then, we'll see.
They just lick their chops, wanting her further neglected in a nursing home,
When they have millions of their miser-like own.  
But I love you Mom--
You've never been more beautiful as I wake you in the morning Sun,
And do everything for you all day, 
It not bringing me dismay,
For to tuck you in at night, kneeling and saying your prayers for you,
Makes me a stronger man, and never more have I adored you,
Knowing they'll make me put on your little shoes,
Taking you to a neglecting home ,so far away,
Hurting you in an isolating way,
While they crack open the champagne,
Enjoying your and my pain--
It's Occam's Razor--
Points their calamitous behavior.