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Doc's Dilemma (sonnets from the 'Stute?)
by Dr.Moose1
Pablo's in the 'Stute, is he here
by chance?
Painting all the fruit, may I
have this dance?
"Michael's" in there
too, Doc is making rounds.
Spying on "One Flew",
switched to scrubs from gown.
"Kaces" ev'ry one,
fuelled by excess meds,
Brains cooked quite well-done,
music in his head.
Lisa's lost her toe, Cha-Cha
Mambo Waltz
Where? Nobody knows, bring the
smelling salts!
Vincent's such a dear, having
done too much
He'll lend you an ear, this boy's
out of touch!
Ratchet none can stand, keep him
out of sight!
Cold of heart and hand, 'til we
get him right!
What a motley crew, Ratchet
cannot know
Who knows what to do? She does
not Mambo!
A sonnet at start, a recurring
theme
Divided into parts, in this place
of dreams
What forces that lurk, would
Balladeer know?
In here do their work, or is it
all show?
Will mayhem rule all? no offence
is meant
Who answer to it's call, I
question intent.
For meanings a-veiled, a most
common thing
Abound in this jail, for those
who'd be king
I mean institute, if one is to
rule
A study in fruit, they must have
the tools.
Odd "parings" in verse,
perhaps Justin Thyme
What makes matters worse, would
rule more benign.
They move things about, such is
my belief
I smuggled this out, we can't all
be Chief!
Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas
anymore!
Vinny
Damn, Doc! Cool verse, indeed! I knew you'd
come through with a little prognosis
of what
was really going on in here.
Thanks but it looks as if I'll be
back in there
before long. It's too big out here.
Doc
Oh Doc, I knew you'd miss me, and
all our fun
games we played. I'll be waiting for
your return.
Justin,
My 'puter didn't pick up your
reply right away,
so thanks. It looks like I'm
headed back
...
Rumba! Cha-Cha Mambo Waltz
Dancing 'neath their baleful
glares
Do not like those smelling salts
Out the door and down the stairs
Fresh air freedom open space
Won't be going back there soon
Best stop dancing Justin Kace
Can't distinguish staff from
loons
By now they should've missed me
I imagine they have found
The clue that I have left them
So that they could track me down
Not what it's cracked up to be
Of the mark this place falls
short
Do not lack for company
I've no problems of that sort
Conversing with new people
Even when no-one's around
Puddle reflecting steeple
Must stay focused on the ground
Visual cacophony
In a moment it should pass
As that side-walk cracks
shouldn't be
Lamp-post park-bench refuge grass
Fetal Cha-Cha Mambo Waltz
Full-blown catatonic state
Vaporized conductive salts
Dancing in a jacket, straight
You just THINK you're out, doc! Hate
to be the
one to dump the bad news on ya! You're
still in here
with the rest of us....
hehehe...look behind you!
It's me! JT!
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