Damping Things Down

November 08, 2019

Peering downwards, eyes lit dots above his frames

A doctor brim secure and suave of certainty

Assures a clear demure propriety,

That finds me somewhat simple; object of a nonsense


His compass taxed - a thought's report arranges him -

A cast back hand folds backwards hair from off his forehead

As cooling air comes in repairs a moment’s wobble:

  I took him in


“Have you been taking your Olanzapine?”

His bird mouth parts a little, and a raking soup-spoon scrape

Supplies a livid skirling, an unhinging brittle screech

Empty as Fridays; wages day; when payment waits to eat


His fingernails glow comely, make display; his concave hands

Tattoo a dance with pencil, light inveigling fingers play;

His uses of adversity merely notional I'd say


At this Star Chamber into which my name has entered now

Sat with this muse whose taciturn and much-conceited brain

Possesses proud posterior letters to its venerable name;

And cuts a linear figure in a ceremonial chair


All the badges of regalia incident to pattern out

The patriarchal mogul, one of medicine the trade

Extends his glare, stares hooked at me: I grateful notice tip,

And say 'Of course, of course' I have been daily dosing.


But fingers in my ears might be of better cheer and choosing

And hood over my eyes; the lies, the moral self-assuming;

Prescription cannot undercut those turns from front to back

The words of Christ our Lord disburse, reverberate, attack


Palliation's sober vest pulls taser ranks on me

Dim palimpsest-like scribbles cover over deeper lines

Where intestine-like manifolds work, strive with agony

As modulates a homeward drunkard's subway map


Unclear from whence arise fierce flowing fires out the earth

A cautious native knows only of fearful prayers

Ascribes to malice that a devil rages underneath:

This fuddle medication strives alive, suppresses truth


That half-a-world's remainders glean, as in The Book of Ruth,

Four thousand years ago, we have not come so far

Remainder peoples, aliens in a time of plums and plenty

Too much, a pantry overstocked disorientates our eyes


As random wars for handsome causes broadly cauterise

Defence teams 'keeping hands in' just in case a sinful stone

Is cast their ways in anger that they 'have to' fight at home

Against the grain, the odds, the trend, 'the lingering dangers'


I take a tablet as a habit for a glorious world

All things nefarious become delirious, like a laughing game

Of wind-up teeth gone chattering round a table, knock and hover

Bizarre and scary. Time these inglorious awful shifts were over