Herbert Nehrlich

Rookie (04 October 1943 / Germany)

Homocysteine - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

The substance is called methionine
it's part of any protein.
It keeps the system working fine,
though by itself is seldom seen.

It breaks down into something that
attacks, like Drano, all the cells.
It travels through the body's fat
and triggers there the warning bells.

The name is Homocysteine,
discovered forty years ago.
McCully saw it in a teen
who died from it. It was a blow.

We humans do have great defenses
against the harshness of our foes,
though many don't come to their senses
they cannot look much past their nose.

That Homocystein is seen
by enzymes that launch their grenades
to stop the stuff that is so keen
to earn its bad guy accolades.

The skirmishes are very short.
The body wins on one condition,
that nutrients, the proper sort
are well-supplied through smart nutrition.

Yes, pyridoxine, folic acid
cobalamine and TMG,
protect you from becoming flaccid,
and keep you well as you should be.

Remember now, don't listen to
the modern hucksters, those who bleat
what's poison and what's good for you,
and if you wonder what to eat

make fats your first priority.
It ought to be a good two-thirds,
for protein, believe you me
eat fatty steaks and scrumptious birds.

Use butter on your veggies, lots
three eggs a day, that would be great.
Keep lard and tallow in big pots,
have crabs and lobster on your plate.

But shun that imitation butter,
it's only one small step away
from plastic and it will cause utter
destruction of votre santé.

Commercial milk, fast food and coke
are not what humans ought to eat.
It's such a pity that a bloke
is programmed for the big defeat.

Drink coffee, yes, with lots of cream.
No sugar though, no aspartame.
Life is a bitch and it may seem
that all is just a deadly game.

The number two main cause of death
is Medicine, a toxic toad.
Before you take your final breath
do walk the much less travelled road.

You ask what would be number one?
Do leave the bible on the shelf.
Of all the things beneath the sun
it's being born, it's life itself.


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, November 22, 2005



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