Sunday, April 09, 2006

“NHS” – a poem

I can’t fucking stand, man.
I can’t get up.
I’ve been cut open,
fixed and stitched,
and now you want my bed.
But can’t you give
my blood the time
to reach my fucking head?

I’m yellow, dude – take a look,
let me rest a while.
See the way the pain
has painted my demented smile.

The bed is mine, I’m staying put –
It’s no more than I deserve.
I just hope and pray I’m out of here
before the food is served.

Can you believe this got rejected from a poetry-writing contest?
All rights reserved and all that stuff



Anonymous Anonymous said...

I reckon its good.
Would be nice to hear a poem about psyche wards. Maybe you can find a line that rhymes with chlopromazine or section 3 1983 mental health act?

10 April, 2006 20:33  
Blogger * (asterisk) said...

Ummm. Might be tricky!

11 April, 2006 09:56  

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