Ward Scenes

Hospital ward, collection of folk,

Everyone here, in some ways broke.

Each, sequestered in own world of pain

But for some, internal dialogue remains.

.

Some talk shit, others whinge,

Reduced to complain about the bedding fringe,

Worry bout disease that  they got,

Or whether the dinner was served far too hot.

Who’s Screaming , While I’m  Showering – Scenes From A Public Ward

Screaming like a banshee,

Death curdling voice.

Patient feelin’ crappy

Alzheimers not her choice

Standing in the shower

I hear her screams of rage.

They’ve taken ‘way,

She thinks she’s in a cage.

.

Why do I want to geek on in?

Obscene though is the thought

In days of Bedlam psycho bin,

Tickets were hard sought.

.

This Week

Ended up hospitalised the other day

My blood pressure, somehow, went away

With bleeding present in my faeces,

Is this a complication of diabetes?

.

I roll over to right, position fetal,

Their gloves perfumed, possibly acetyl

The surg team review condition, parse

Then stick a finger up my arse.

.

Hear conversations all around

Most what  I hear seems quite sound.

But other words are medically phrased,

Precision ‘bove all is what’s  praised.

.

I know I am a tacid type,

Not given too much flourish or hype.

Others relive their story again,

I block my ears to avoid their pain.

.

Next door cubicle’s fucked his knees

They aren’t moving with any ease.

Came off a quad bike,  no roll cage,

Guess he wasn’t just that sage.

.

Daylight Saving Time

I wonder where that hour goes?

I ponder while tall grass I mow.

It’s the first morning of daylight saving

That hour lost is what I’m craving.

.

The air’s too crisp for breakfast yet,

The grass I mow is soaking wet.

But where’s that fucking hour gone,

Did someone sixty minutes pawn?

.

Over next week bodies adjust,

Circadian rhythm all mucked up.

At end of day,  more time to play,

More time to eat chocolate parfait

Anna – Ἄννα 6

We moved from back deck to front. Away from the greenery of the shaded deck, grass and willows.

Anna’s eyes widened. She was overcome. They were the eyes of a little girl seeing for the first time kokkina avga, red Easter Eggs. We helped her to a seat on the front deck.

Resting back into her chair a murmur commenced. Looking over the sparkling silver estuary the Greek words of a childhood song formed. She was back in her village before she’d left for Australia some sixty five years before. Gazing up at the mountains surrounding her country farm home. A place we’ll never go, a place still in her heart.

She sang uninhibitedly, the voice of a fourteen-year-old. Pure pleasure. Memories folded back. Memories before she met Harry in Australia. Memories of her mother. Family rarely seen over decades.

We listened, watched, and learnt.

The comfort of memories, tucked away, released by song and sight.

No words were said.

Que Sera

Driving back from sailing comp,

My spirts kinda in the dumps 

Didn’t place had middling day,

Others rigs better set to play.

.

Driving along, right on speed limit,

Apparently too slow for following idiot.

He tailgates me round downhill bend,

I wonder when will bullying end.

.

Then into  a long straight stretch,

He speeds past at speed break neck

I’m so glad he’s passed on by,

As he does give him the eye

.

Several miles on, thought he’d gone,

Seems he was on mobile phone.

In the midst of sending text,

Downloaded vid of porno sex.

.

Glanced down, saw pic in his crotch,

Explicit image sets hormones off,

Hand off wheel to stoke his dick,

Pothole flicks the steering quick.

.

Car rolls once, and then again,

Do I care if they felt pain?

Driver dead, wife paraplegic

Happens when you are a dick.

Into ditch

t in his c