Title: Parasites!
Author: Jeroen Verbeek, Copyright 2006
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Parasites!
Copyright (C) Jeroen Verbeek 2006
~~~
Dear Reader,
I don't consider this work to be poetry or any other form of written
art. My intention is to reflect five years of severe bowel distress
and teeth-grinding frustration into a concise summary. Put in that
perspective, I wrote a composition of thematic verses, symbolizing my
struggle against earth's most creepy creatures: /Parasites!/
Thank you for your reading time, I greatly appreciate it.
Jeroen Verbeek
~~~
Fate
----
Some people experience an once-in-a-lifetime event that will change
their life forever.
/the decision is made by fate/
/I’m the chosen one/
/ready to stand the test/
It happened on the 10th of July in the year 2001, when I was 31 years
old.
/Doomsday/
On that catastrophic day a well-trained squad of parasitic marauders
invaded my body and took over my digestive tract, without having
permission to do so.
Here is my story:
Parasites!
Feeding the beasts inside
I picked you up
I fattened you up
and turned you in a well-fed army of ferocious microbes
You prodded me out of my happy life
You awakened me in a real nightmare world
and caught me in a vicious trap
Sometimes the struggle is rough
more rough than I could ever have imagined
to fight the hidden terror within
to engage the battle for my own well being
promising myself to NEVER, EVER GIVE UP
~~~
Protozoa
--------
Do you want to know a secret? Move with me inside the wonderful world
of single-celled organisms. A world almost too small to be true. Let
me tell you about the secret kingdom of the Protozoa.
Told through the challenging, attractive voice of a female narrator it
sounds like the beginning of a children’s fairy tale, doesn’t it?
BUZZZZZ!!!
Wrong diagnosis!
Fooled by distraction
A wolf in sheep’s clothes, to talk in fairy tale characters
but unlike Little Red Riding Hood I swallowed the wolf
Bon appétit!
I’m a walking protozoa zoo
ready to entertain people at village fairs
with my belly cut open
showing off my wee inhabitants through a magnifying aquarium glass
Protozoa
/"It’s a fascinating world full of animal-like unicellar organisms
with puzzling affinities."/
- an anonymous microbiologist -
Yeah Right!
~~~
The carnival of the microbes
----------------------------
His Highness has succeeded to attach his citizens to my intestinal
wall neatly paved, like a cobblestone road.
Now the party can get started
My digestive tract erupts into bliss
billions of curious dancing specks go wild
with their arms in the air and hips shaking
singing, "We are family."
The celebration of protozoan party-goers
The pandemonium parade of victorious amoeba-flagellates
The carnival of the microbes
P.S. I have been defeated, but victory shall be mine!
~~~
Names
-----
Names are used to identify objects and living organisms in the
universe.
So they have names
Ugly, almost unpronounceable names:
/Giardia lamblia/
/Dientamoeba fragilis/
/Blastocystis hominis/
Sssst!
Don’t call their names out loud
Sssst!
Don’t wake the beasts inside
~~~
Guests
------
Guests. Aren’t they supposed to be respectful and not overstay their
welcome? Nor should they place too great a burden on the resources of
their host. That’s what they call etiquette.
My body
serves like a five-star-hotel
accommodating billions of unwanted guests
who don’t want to leave
because they are too afraid to face the world outside my gut
In a well-kept house, guests behave in a courteous manner. If they
don’t, they will be kindly asked to leave the house, or they will be
removed relentlessly. That’s what they call good riddance to bad
rubbish.
The banquet
goes on in my intestines
feeding billions of uninvited guests
who worship their host
because he is not able to kick the hell out of them
~~~
The march of the moochers
-------------------------
I have a cycle
like a woman has her period
but I’m not losing clots of blood
I’m shedding watery stools full of invisible travelers
They’re riding my waste
massive numbers of hitchhiking microbes
at the very beginning of their journey towards freedom
Exodus
The march of the moochers
Some are dormant
wearing protective coats to survive the harsh conditions of the
outside world
others are highly active
being fragile, but filled with a natural aptitude to find another
host
The parasitic invasion of a place called Earth
A silent pandemic
~~~
The art of reproduction
-----------------------
The survival of a species is all about the ability to reproduce
offspring.
The art of reproduction
The funny thing is that the pleasure of having sex is unknown to
you little nothings.
Such a shame!
I can tell you, SEX is FUN!
Sex is good
It ensures the reshuffling of genes
The ultimate way of variation
Holding the key to overcome a catastrophic devastation
But you are not born out of seed
You’re like a mutant female who can reproduce without male input.
Mother Nature did no equip your species with a penis and a vagina.
Too bad!
So you’re down to asexual reproduction
local doubling
copying yourself into a myriad of super twins
Do you really think that your sexless clones make me jealous?
Not at all!
Image I could divide a second ME from my own body
The thing I would worry about is that the other ME would trick my
wife into having SEX with HIM!
TOO WEIRD!
Don’t you think?
~~~
Everyone poops
--------------
Everyone poops
it’s the call of nature
the routine of every human being
It comes in
different sizes
different colors
different smells
different shapes
different densities
Drop your load
dump that chocolate banana
battle that legless devil inside
for God’s sake, let the brownie out
But beware...
The parasitic universe is conspiring against you
You might be contaminated as well
giving unknowingly shelter to an invisible enemy
stool surfing food robbers
intestinal thieves, which grow healthy on your fecal matter
my shit
your shit
their shit
everybody’s shit
They like shit of all kinds
they are shitty, little bowel warriors
so you’d better watch out or you’ll get them too
and that’s NO BULLSHIT!
~~~
Prey
----
I’m the prey
in a parallel life inside my own body
where a ruthless predator chases me
dominated by a violent swarm of hungry animalcules
I can’t fight myself
I can’t defend myself
I can’t hide myself
I’m the hunted one
in the sub-visible world of my own intestinal garden
I’m haunted by a vengeful curse
possessed by a breeding colony of tiny beings
I can’t free myself
I can’t cure myself
I can’t help myself
~~~
Because
-------
/Because/ my oldest son always asks me Why? And /because/ he keeps on
asking /Why?/
/"Why does your belly ache, daddy?"/
/Because/ I got infected by a bunch of wretched little
creatures. /Why?/
/Because/ they are highly contagious. /Why?/
/Because/ of their ability to reproduce and survive. /Why?/
/Because/ I had a weakened immune system. /Why?/
/Because/ I was over whelmed with too many things. /Why?/
/Because/ it was my own fault. /Why?/
/Because/ I didn’t treat my body well. /Why?/
/Because/ I was a self-ignorant idiot!
That’s /WHY!/
~~~
The king of flatulence
----------------------
I’m the fart champion
expelling gallons of gas each day
which made me feel like a never-ending deflating balloon
Dark clouds are rising
a sure sign of stormy weather
the wind blows from within
a fast moving volume of excessive intestinal gas
quickly building up to gale force proportions
the high-pressure alarm sounds loudly in my head
I can hold it no longer
BURRRP!
The explosive passage of putrid air
resembling the peal of thunder in my pants
I’m the king of flatulence
producing dozens of bubbles a day
which make me feel like a Jacuzzi bubble stream
My gut is rumbling
a little prayer thanking God for dinner
slowly turning into a melodious vibrating sensation
the abdominal orchestra tuning up
performing the first notes of a grand symphony
followed by a powerful chorus song
I blow the butt trumpet
TO TOOT TOOOT!
The unchained melody of bowels in uproar
blasting musical waves of methane gas through my sphincter opening
I’m the father of waste gas
breaking wind all day long
which make me feel like a leaky air valve
My bloated feeling lingers for hours
the result of a highly flatulent condition
an unavoidable accumulation of brown clouds
full of hydrogen sulphide infested air
toxic fumes in the making
the uncontrollable emission of foul wind
I could put a skunk to shame
WHOOSHH!
The offensive smell of a truly bad call
accompanying the inevitability of my walk of shame
~~~
Spiritual parasites
-------------------
Demons are spiritual parasites, hollow lives in a dysbiotic world.
Punished by diabolic forces
I need a priest
to confess my sins
and receive absolution as from God himself
Parasites are the personification of heinous sins that dwell in
ruined souls.
Possessed by evil demons
I need an exorcist
to defeat the devil inside
and set me free from Satan’s grasp
~~~
A pile of shit
--------------
a pile of shit
the morning monster has left his shelter
his bad breathe stabbing my nostrils
making me quickly flush him to his watery grave
another pile of shit
twisting like a snake
wounded, with a streak of blood
leaving a look of panic in my eyes
a third pile of shit
only to find some temporal relieve
my tush feels like a heath shield
spitting flames of frustration into the toilet bowl
~~~
Sigmoidoscopy
-------------
Sigmoidoscopy
the rectal examination of the hidden depths of the gut
lying on my left side with my legs drawn up
my face turned sideways against the punishment bench
a moment of utter shame
the embarrassment of being exposed
my naked bottom in full sight
the nurse watching my hairy hole in its full glory
her voice colored with a caring, "Just relax."
I shut my eyes, trying no to think
just waiting for the probe to enter my virgin sphincter
the mini-camera device became swallowed by my tight anal mouth
I clenched my teeth to keep a horrid scream inside
slowly the flexible tube began to inch forward
feeling the impaled agony as it pressed deeper into my back passage
with no end in sight
boldly exploring the recesses of my inflamed large intestines
studying the crypts in a slow sawing motion
showing clusters of infection on the color screen
scraping pieces of anal lining for further investigation
I hated the scene of humiliation
illicit fucking
the cruel rape of my defenseless rectum
fading into a bitter memory
but still sending shivers of horror down my spine
~~~
Dear Mr. Family Doctor
----------------------
Dear Mr. Family Doctor
please take those critters serious
I know you’re never taught to do so
to understand the disease-causing abilities of such a parasitic
infestation
Dear Mr. Family Doctor
please don’t stick to your orthodox view
I only want to state that they are really harmful
to insult you has never been my aim
Dear Mr. Family Doctor
please don’t diagnose me with Irritable Bowel Syndrome
I really need to do a Triple Faeces Test
to prove their colonial existence inside
Dear Mr. Family Doctor
please don’t send me home right now
I only need some medication
to eliminate those cooties for once and for all
~~~
Third time lucky
----------------
In the end, it took three strikes of anti-infective agents to kill the
beasts inside.
A high dose of Metronidazole
your DNA’s helical structure will be disrupted
tore apart, like the strings of a broken violin
and then, most likely, after seven days of adverse side effects
your bodies will vanish in a haze
The first dose of Tetracycline
your food-supply will be reduced
diminished, like dried out slugs with salt
and then, as a consequence, after ten days of medical treatment
you will die from starvation
Another dose of Tetracyline
you will be smoked out of your hidey-hole
unglued, like a stamp in the rush of steam
and then, finally, after five years of bowel distress
you are wiped out by the deadly touch of Clioquinol
Whew... What a relief!
~~~
The war is over
---------------
Silence speaks inside my gut
The party has ended
The enemy, sly and persistent, has been defeated
They’re dead
They’re all dead
They’re as dead as dead can be
Microcorpses
The war is over
Time to clean up the mess
Time to rediscover the joy of life
(Wish me luck)
~~~
The End
----- This work is copyright (C) Jeroen Verbeek, 2006, all rights reserved -----