Measure Of Madness Poem by Mary Champion

Monitor, monitor, measure, record -
record vital signs of disease,
like a wheel-tapper listening for ominous notes
revealing a fractured unease.

Whether you're sleeping or waking,
quantify all that you can.
Life's only fun if your taking
the measure of being a man.

Check with the doctor if levels have changed -
make him even richer and you more deranged.

Monitor, monitor measure until
you can't take a breath till you've checked.
Keep your eye on the dial, be alert all the while
to how many hours you've slept.

Your heart will be racing with terror,
your blood pressure go through the roof,
largely because you keep checking -
looking for that final proof.

Check with the doctor if you are unsure -
he will be happy to bill you once more.

No illness will come unexpected,
no more nasty bolts from the blue
You'll be first to know if you're dying
or when major malfunction is due.

You can swerve to avoid all disorder,
except where there isn't a cure.
And you'll have much more time to be worried,
more troublesome doubts to endure.

Check with the Doctor each time you record
some more dodgy data you cannot afford.

Lost in extreme self obsession,
you'll never have time to be bored,
and when they reflect what you did all your life
they'll say 'Monitor, monitor, measure record! '