Death Prediction Of A Scholar Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

I predict here today
that a man known to all,
who was cut, as they say,
will in 18 months fall.
They repair what ain't broke
for the money I guess,
if you don't want a stroke
come and let me no less
cut your heart that was faulty
and demand lots of dough,
tell you that no more salty
food be part of your show.

Then they let you take Zocor
because it lowers your risk,
and if you should say 'no more'
they suggest a quick, brisk
walk through streets of pollution
where the bums live and die,
and you see no solution
and you ask yourself why.

Is the will of the powers
really geared to be kind,
as his mood slowly sours
he can see that the blind
and the deaf and the cripples
and the 'plegics in chairs
cannot make those big ripples
to alert those upstairs.

And he sees that there is
no distinction between
those poor devils and his
operation that keen
wealthy surgeons had laid on
his gullible mind,
and he felt truly preyed on
as he left them behind.

He returned to the clinic
and demanded to see
the head doctor, a cynic
as a doctor could be.
And he reached in his pocket
to take out his pills,
threw them like a small rocket
and yelled 'treating my ills
is a task you ain't up to
and I trust you no longer,
if I don't come to club you
it's because I felt stronger
until you and your minions
got your greedy hands on me
Stick your bloody opinions
up you know where, don't con me! '

And the clinic staff grinned,
and they grunted and danced.
Yes, they knew they had sinned
and thus subtly advanced
the condition they treated,
and that needed no care
with the patient defeated
they returned to the glare
of the theatre lights,
to administer more science
to those devils whose rights
had been stripped in defiance
of the laws of the land.
And the morals of all
with your head in the sand
you won't see them all fall.

Then his wife who will run
for a very high goal
told him 'now that it's done
you can take up the role
to tell others about
how the doctors today
have considerable clout
and deserve a Hooray.'

But the man, who was smart
had already decided,
that in modern day art
one's decisions be guided
by a look at the motive
behind doctors' big plans,
for THEM locomotive
for YOU a big chance.
And the fortune he'd paid
would not buy him two days
'cause his deathbed was made
by their sinister ways.