I wrote The Disease in the early days of the internet, back when I was living frugally and stretching what remained of a Ph.D. scholarship. A dishonorable figure in academia had made things difficult for me, but that personal struggle pales in comparison to those who lose not just careers, but their very lives without reason. That’s what happened twenty-four years ago today.
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| Satan on his way to bring about the downfall of Adam. Gustave Doré’s illustration for Paradise Lost by John Milton. |
This poem dates back to the late 1990s, composed on an old laptop that wasn’t even connected to the internet. As I typed, the words took on a strangely ominous tone—images of a rotting sky, hints that all are doomed. I thought about cutting the darker passages but decided to preserve them for the sake of artistic integrity.
Looking back, I can’t help but wonder: was I somehow anticipating 9/11? Or was the poem echoing the shadowy forces behind the person who wronged me? Perhaps the two are not as separate as they seem. With terror and hidden operators, you never really know.
Looking back, I can’t help but wonder: was I somehow anticipating 9/11? Or was the poem echoing the shadowy forces behind the person who wronged me? Perhaps the two are not as separate as they seem. With terror and hidden operators, you never really know.
The Disease
I’ve watched it grow
I’ve seen it sow
true minds into despair
souls of sorrow
ladened deep
burning horrid stares
I’ve seen it work
at lightning speed
to destroy mankind’s seed
through the air
it does its deed
this is its only care
sans partiality
sans decency
Yes, this is “the disease”
You over there!
you believe you’re clear
of this melancholy breeze?
Well let me tell you
if you please
it’s a fatal,
dreadful siege
For once contracted
once enacted
you’ll go on normally
“it’s okay”
“I’m just fine”
“yes, I think I am still free”
But then, alas!
the grippe is tightened
beyond all points of ease
and shipwrecked sailors on the sea of life
all drown
irrevocably
Yes I’ve seen this blight
‘cross this land
and winds are blowing high
no apple pie nor starlit nights
will save this rotting sky
all is darkened
all are dead
all are doomed to die
Lance it fast while time remains
avoid a fearsome plight
destroy this curse
and rest assured
your mark is
for the
light
Cast it out and let us pray
“Lord give us back our sight”
Cast it out to guarantee,
Truth shall conquer might
The Disease © 2025, Michael W. Clark.
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