"Houses Under Renovation" is a pessimistic, non-linear narrative poem that portrays an unnamed protagonist's battle with a terminal illness until they succumb to their inevitable death. Parted into five chapters, the poem is a compilation of the narrator’s memories and insights during the time of their antemortem depression. The Collection addresses a plethora of social issues, from classism and racism to the prioritization of capitalistic values in the healthcare system. In addition, "Houses Under Renovation" explores the topics of careless mistreatment of mental health patients, the subsequent effect of depression on romantic relationships affected, and the communication deficit plaguing contemporary society. Narrated with a debilitated tone, the poem captures the collapse of society as we know it due to the forces of modern alienation.
I. white dog
when misfortune struck,
we were alone within four walls
with two pairs of eyes,
two pairs of hands,
and grey was the colour of love
when the downpour flooded in,
it first took the horses,
then housewives, then the radio,
at last, it took the americans
the streetlights came crashing
into their respective narrow streets
to make little fireworks
on the brim of the night hours
when we were all alone
with one cat, one dog, and an old hag,
you crouch down quietly,
and pet the ghastly white dog
you seal your eyes
from the smitten glare,
and let the nothing remain
i could see from your eyes
that love takes the colour grey
when the lover is on their way
all life was frothing at the mouth
at the hollow bones we feed on,
the earthquakes we cause,
and the livings we make
off of the hollow bones we feed on
and the earthquakes we cause
and the livings we make
it must suck to know
that we have to
die someday
II. unhealthy
i remember of a time
when our bones were still pulpy
and the world was too small that
a sore throat was
not only a sore throat
and a tumour was
not only a tumour
our collect pain was
the matter of the state
and theirs was ours
that’s what we were told,
just so that we could remain,
patients overtrusting,
patients undertrusting,
lovers overbearing,
and lovers underbearing,
but when duty struck,
we fought back.
and we fought alone.
i remember time out of time,
young men and women
standing in lines
diplomas askew in their hands,
raiding the east like
disciples out of line
young men and women repeating
“first, do no harm”
young men and women
doing harm,
clean out of line
of experience,
of the knowledge
they pledged to seek
but what is the significance
of a title doctorate,
when human lives
cost thousands of fines,
what is our reason to remain honest,
when honesty pays none
what maims us
if we choose to remain,
doctors underestimating,
doctors overestimating,
liars bystanding,
what a shame
to see them withstanding
the truth is that
money only mattered
when a life was lived unlived
or a heart ceased to decease
the truth is that when money struck
they struck back.
but it wasn't nearly enough.
so they remained,
doctors overdiagnosing,
doctors underdiagnosing,
doctors overmedicating
and doctors undermedicating
and when they talk,
they’ll tell you
that we chose to remain,
a nation
unhealthy
III. the waiting room
i am waiting in the line
to the american office
where the american man
will question my whereabouts
and take my shoelaces
i am with families
in litters of children
wearing yankee clothing
feeding on
the yankee candy
answering the officer’s questions
in the white man's tongue
to prove how white
they can be
inside
i saw a hound
and a sharp tooth man
on a leash
threatening to
take my unborn baby’s
shoelaces
god has forsaken
the hounds
that put us
in the waiting room
i am sentencing myself
fifty years
looking into the eyes
of those with
fifty years spent
in the waiting room
IV. grey
when misfortune struck,
you spent hours
staring at the same
piece of living
that you judged
to hell and back
and crossed it
out of your life
i just can't help but
watch the rain
flood into our walls
by your side
where the colour of love
will always remain
grey.
V. the end - houses under renovation
it’s been a while,
and they’re putting
these houses
under renovation.
the houses are
breaking down
into shreds of dust
and concrete,
the air smells
of paint thinner,
and the eagle-eyed doorman
eyes the construction area
like a mighty shipman
past daylight.
the cars that pass by
make these homely noises
that remind me
of the MRI machine
that i sat in for
40 minutes
when i fell
that one time.
an MRI machine is
like your own spaceship,
it makes noises
that you don’t hear
within daylight.
the dog is barking
at 5AM.
i cross to the other side.
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