Michael Langston

Some people think prescription drugs are safe because they are FDA approved. But nothing could be further from the truth. Drug trials submitted to the FDA by the drug companies are typically small, short-term trials that do not reveal the adverse effects.

DIRECTIONLESS
by Michael Langston

The road that I have traveled,
Though once a busy highway,
Changed from paved to graveled
And is now not even a pathway.

No fellow travelers can here be found,
Through this pathless forest onward,
There is no hope of turning around,
And there is no going forward.

There is only aimless wandering here
Within this endless, pathless forest,
Murky darkness with nothing clear,
Apart from all the farthest.

It’s disgraceful that safe and effective cancer treatments like those of Dr. Stanislaw Burzynski are suppressed and criminalized so that the multi-billion-dollar cancer industry can stay in business and continue raking in billions, while killing millions.

TO THE PSEUDO-CHRISTIANS
by Michael Langston

You are like a prospector who, searching long and hard, finds what he believes is a priceless gold nugget. But what he has found, upon closer examination, turns out not to be gold at all, but is instead fool’s gold.

2 You are as a man who, dissatisfied with what he owns, sells all his worldly goods for what he believes is a handsome price. But only later, when it is then too late, does he discover that the money he has received is not genuine, but is in fact counterfeit.

3 You are like a traveler who, on his way to the Celestial City, looks for a place to rest from his journey and stops for the night at a wayside inn. But when he is there, he is deceived by the innkeeper into believing that he has reached his destination. And preferring the comfort of the inn to the hardship of the journey, he thus does not continue that journey, and so never reaches the Celestial City.

4 You are as a woman who, without having access to any firsthand knowledge, receives all her information at the end of a long line of gossip. But that information, in passing from one person to another, so becomes distorted. And upon reaching the end such person, it thus is without its original truth.

5 You are as a child who, standing at the window, perceives a tiny insect crawling across the face of the glass. But watching it intently and with his eyes focused sharply upon it, he thus does not see what lies outside that window.

6 You are as a man who, sitting down to dinner, is served what he thinks is a wholesome and savory stew. But along with the potatoes and carrots and gravy, what looks like the beef isn’t really beef at all, but is in reality horse manure.

7 You are like an old man who, after an attack of appendicitis, is straightway taken to the nearest hospital. But rather than surgery to take out the appendix, he is given a drug to take away the pain.

8 You are as a man holding a red-hot poker in one hand and taking an aspirin with the other.

9 You are as sheep mistaking a wolf for the shepherd.

LONGING
by Matthew Arnold

Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.

Come, as thou cam’st a thousand times,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me!

Or, as thou never cam’st in sooth,
Come now, and let me dream it truth,
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say, My love why sufferest thou?

Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.

One would think that the National Cancer Institute, which has a huge annual budget exceeding 5 billion dollars, would allocate a small portion of that vast sum of money to research this phenomenally successful treatment. But, sadly, such is not the case.

IN REMEMBRANCE OF SARA TEASDALE
by Michael Langston

Though the flame be forgotten
That once burned warm and bright
In the cold, midnight stillness
Of that long-lost winter night,

Though the gray, crumbled ashes
Strewn out across that snow
Were swept away forever…
To where only the wind shall know,

Though the flower be forgotten
That once adorned that spring,
Her thoughts will live forever;
Her angel’s voice still sings.