Leonardo's Lament... or”Life in the ‘Stute”


Justin Thyme



I told them I could paint real fine.

They did not believe me.

They said those paintings weren't mine!

They were trying to deceive me!


I'm Leonardo, yes I am!

I told them with a grin.

And showed my painting to them,

and then they let me in.


It was the Mona Lisa

I painted it, I said.

But they did not believe me

as they strapped me to the bed.


They shipped me off to Richmond

so they could do some tests--

examined all my functions

to figure out this mess.

They stuck me with some needles--

took blood from inside out.

They asked me stupid questions

to learn what I'm about.


They took away my necktie.

They took away my belt.

They gave me a white bracelet

that was made out of felt.

They watched me sleep and watched me eat

and sat me in a chair

and when I mentioned Lisa,

they quick shaved off my hair.


They put a hat upon my head

that looked like leaning Pisa.

And so I asked them one more time

if they liked my Mona Lisa.


I went to the cafeteria,

ate meat loaf and some cake.

I was eating very calmly --

not to make mistakes.

I sat there dipping gravy,

about to take a bite

when soon a tray flew by me!

I saw an awful fight!


Meatloaf started flying

and spinach through the air!

But I just sat there eating.

I really didn't care.

They punched each other in the nose

and threw some spoons and pie.

I ducked and took another bite

and watched the plates fly by.

I finished my first helping,

chairs, tables hit the floor.

Then rose to go get seconds

because I wanted more.


They gave me a pink bracelet

for outside in the sun.

I sat in lovely gardens

alone with everyone.

They gave me a big pill to take

and then a glass of juice.

The sun shone on the daisies.

I was feeling mighty loose.

I looked for Mona Lisa

but she was not around.

I started watching spiders

crawling on the ground.


My name is Leonardo!

I yelled until they heard.

I don't belong in Richmond!

This whole thing is absurd!


They said I would be transferred

to Saint Sophia's ‘Stute.

I asked if Mona could come too.

They said I was a fruit.


Life inside the institute

was pretty strange, but cool.

I'm hoping Saint Sophia's

will have a swimming pool.


Justin Thyme

aka Leonardo Da Vinci

Artiste Extreaordinaire





Justin You got me laughing so hard I almost

could not hold it. Where is Lisa now?



The Unknown Poet


Definitely ”Leo's Lament"

Oh to be institutionalized again.

You're so lucky.


The Unknown



Justin Kace


Now Justin Kace

You doubt his rhyme

I know that face

He's Justin Thyme


Who is this guy?

He looks like me!

Comes to my ‘Stute

Pretends to be


The great DaVinci

Sans Hirsute...

No one but me

Will give a hoot.


It's plain to see

That he's my twin.


They let him in.


To gain entry

He had to say

He would bring me

My dinner tray.


Meat loaf he caught

As it flew by

With that he got

Sauce from his eye.


And then to my

Bedside he came

It's dinner, Thyme

Justin's the name.


He says that he

Can paint a smile


With just beguile.


It is a myth

He's just a fool

He's happy with

A swimming pool


Here at my ‘Stute

He'll stay as me

I've much to do

Now that I'm free


And they will think

That he is me

I've made”The Last

Judgment”you see.


To Sistene Chapel,

I must go

Because - I'm




Justin Thyme


OH, c'mon ONE FLEW.... don't jive these

people! You know why this struck your

funny chord, little buddy... you were the

one with the damn flying pizza! I *still*

can't believe they let you outa there. When

nurse Cratchet told me you were getting

released, I almost punched HER in the

nose... you getting out before me???

Unbelievable. And you know where Lisa

is, too! You took that straw and used

some ketchup and mustard and started

painting her a new smile.... you little...

you little.... schizo!


Now, from now on, keep it honest

around here, huh?



Justin T.



Justin Thyme


Hey Justin, my long lost twin! Paint on,

brotha!! Love the lyric melody but of

course you knew I would..... we be the

best damn lyricists in that ol' ‘Stute!


Listen, though, better be careful 'cause

I heard nurse ratchet is hanging around

These forums posting under some

pseudonym and if she puts two and

two together and comes up with four, your

ass is grass, my friend! ONE FLEW said

she was on to us sneakin' over into the

administrative offices to use their 'puter.

So, keep it easy and light.... watch your

back! Oh, and next time you get on,

send me the URL so I can see that really

cool mural you put up in that church. hose

dummies never believed we could paint!

LOL! You've got one mean brush stroke,

my twin!


Do you BELIEVE that ONE FLEW meatloaf

slinging dude pretending he didn't know nothin'

about all this? How do you think he got his

name? One meatloaf flew, one fork flew,

one table flew.... geez.


Justin T.



The Unknown Poet


Far be it from me to interfere,

But have either of you seen my ear?

And though I really like your rhyme,

Both Justin Kace and Justin Thyme.

You must speak fast, I must soon go,

For I'm the great Vincent VanGogh.


The Unknown



Justin Thyme


Hey VanGogh!!! My Main Man!!!

What the heck are YOU doing

over here? Good to see ya, bud!

Oh, but btw, that wasn't your ear, it was

half of your brain. Lobotomy, remember?

Well maybe you don't remember.

Cya in the mind zap line! Hold onto your hat!

Last one zapped me down for a week!



Justin Kace




Was that the ear

Belonged to Vince

'Twas in my pie

And not quite minced?


My brother dear

Brought it to me

Caught on the fly

I plainly see


How do you hear

Mister VanGogh?

This ‘Stute is mine

You surely know...



The Unknown Poet


I hear just fine Justin Kace,

One ear works just as good as two.

So wipe the smirk off your face.

I have something to share with you.


I know you should be basket weaving,

So I will make this brief, you know.

Cause no one here's really believing

That you are Michelangelo!!!


Now I don't mean to drop the dime

On that brother you hold so dear

But Justin thyme made it just in time,

To save from you my lovely ear.


He switched it with Mona Lisa' big toe,

Said he owed at least this much to you.

I found it oddly strange, even so,

You found it so easy to chew.


So I say now go paint your chapel

I will give you no more slack.

They may have given me the scalpel,

But at least I got my ear back.





Justin Thyme


You may have gotten your ear back, Vincent,

but half your brain's still missing.... Justin Kace

you hadn't noticed... it was a lobotomy,

remember? Oh yeah, you STILL don't

remember.. LOL... better brush up on

your paint strokes, little buddy.







Oh, what a job the young boy had!

It wasn't very hard

But was a job disdained by all

In that hospital ward.


When they prepped someone for surgery

Before they made a cut

The young boy's job it was to pick

All small hairs from the butt.


It was a necessary task,

Infection to avoid,

But not too glamorous to pick

Those small hairs from that void.


Years later, he discovered that

His talent was quite rare

At taking paints and canvas

Making masterpieces there.


He decided to use a fictitious name

As seemed to be the craze

So he fashioned one from that silly job

Of his old hospital days.


One thing I haven't understood

Although I'm not so dumb,

I must confess I do not know

Where the ”Pablo” came from.



Justin Thyme


Ok, I was following all of this until this

balladeer dude comes in and writes

some verse I didn't understand. What's

all this have to do with hairs on some

one's butt? I don't get it. Prepping

someone for surgery? A fictitious name

because that's some kind of”craze"?

LOL... sounds CRAZY to me.... hehehe.

Ok, so we got a few nuts around here, but

what's this dude balladeer sneezing about?


Oh, and as far as Pablo is concerned....

damn... he's over there... there he is now..

he's in the ‘Stute here alright, with the rest

of us. Want me to ask him to post something?


Hey, balladeer, little buddy.... you sure

you don't belong in here with us?


Ok, gotta jet.... nurse ratchet's a cratchet

and she's out to get me yet... see some

of you in the cafeteria in the morning.

2 eggs scrambled like your brain.....

hold the fruit.



that's me



The Unknown Poet


Pablo, Pablo, there you are,

I have been searching long and far.

For once I had this surgery,

And guess what, 'twas you who prepped me

Now, it's no secret all can see

The scar from the lobotomy.

But even though I've half a brain,

At least what half I have is sane.

This being so, questions lie there,

Why did you remove my butt hair?

I always knew you were schizo,

But do you really think you’re PicASSo?







Hey, Balladeer! What's that you say?

I think you are a NUT!

That isn't true! My last name's real.

It's not a nickname for my butt!


Next time I paint a painting here

inside this institute.

I think I'll paint a painting of

you in your birthday suit!


You seem to be hung up on butts

I think that's sort of strange.

My painting will depict your head

and butt, swapped, interchanged.


Don't mess with me, dear Balladeer!

I'm artiste, yes, first class!

Because you've started rumors here,

your face will be your ***.


sincerely yours,






Someone here is mistaken

for I have done no faking.

My honesty rings as true

as dry grass meets fallen dew.

You think I changed a smile

with the ketchup from a pile.

Way wrong there my friend

I'll deny this till the end.

I will admit salting days

as I attacked feather lei's.

Nothing else will you have

over me, except a purple Lav.





Just a little pen-prick

This won't hurt a bit

Justin Kace you are sick

How's that jacket fit?

Made from ”fine Corinthian leather"

Stitched by Ricardo Montalban

When you're feeling under the weather

We'll let you try it on

The buckles of patina, green

Hand made by Juan Valdez

When he's not picking coffee beans

A least that's what he says

The leather straps so sturdy

Hold you in their embrace

For when you get too wordy

Justin Thyme or Justin Kace

Though the canvas isn't painted

It was woven by VanGogh

If this assertion you think tainted

Ask him, he'll say so

And those baskets that you're weaving

Are the cause of Lisa's smile

But I'm afraid I must be leaving

To make my rounds takes quite a while


Dr. Moose



Justin Thyme


Hiya Doc! How in the heck did you know

where to find us all? You're really somethin'

else for sure, dude! Hey, keep this under

your hat, ok? You're not going to get us in

any trouble over this are you? After all, we

can't help it, really we can't. We're NUTS!

mwahahahaha! Whatever you do, I warn

you, if nurse ratchet finds out, you're in just

as much trouble as we are so.... hehehe...

I just know you'll keep a lid on it.


Hey, out on your rounds, do me a favor, huh?

Tell Pablo I thought his poem was wicked

kewl! Trading a head for a balladeer butt...



Justin Kace


Whew..... I got another whole section done

on the Sistene today..... OMiGod...... I just

had another hallucination.... I was sure I

saw a Moose in doctor's scrubs go by

my door....YIKES!!!!



The Unknown Poet


Well it's come to my attention

There's something strange going on here.

Yeah, everything was going smooth,

And then comes along Balladeer.


Spreading vicious rumors,

About poor 'ol pablo.

Now pablo's peeved and we're all grieved,

'Cept Michelangelo.


He's too busy painting the chapel,

Bet he doesn't even know

Lisa's back with Leonardo,

Albeit without her toe.


There was even a drive by

By good ol' Desperado.

And I even got my ear back,

I, the great Vincent VanGogh.


Now what I find so strange here,

'Tis a fact we all well know.

Only the truly great artist

Have names that end in O.


So what is he trying to pull,

This sneaky Balladeer?

Me thinks it to be mutiny,

The moose is in on it, I fear.


I saw him taking rounds with Ratchet.

A repulsive thought, I can't refute.

Yeah, it's plain to me, he longs to be

Balladeer, King of the ‘Stute.





Nurse Crachet


How long did you think it would take me

to find you? I have my spies you know.

Problem is I found you here on this board,

but somehow your escaping me over here.

I will find your buddy Balladeer, and get

him to spill the beans on where you are. I

will find you just wait, and then I shall

paddle you down the river!





Hey, Pablo, threaten if you will.

It really doesn't matter.

Who knows what you paint anyway?

You just make colors splatter.


I didn't mean to spill the beans

About how you got your name

But what's the diff? Nobody cares

You're third-rate, just the same.


So bring it on. I wait with glee

You washed-up romeo.

I'd like to chat but I must help

Old Vince make his van go.





Hey! Balladeer! You listen up!

Insult me. Go ahead!

Haha, your words roll off my back!

They make me laugh, instead.

No, I'm not laughing at your wit,

I'm laughing at your ass

'cause here comes big bad Nurse Cratchet,

who tolerates no sass.


She's wielding a big needle for your

big bold blatant butt!

She'll get you soon, my loco friend

because you are a NUT!

You are no king, you are no prince,

no painter like the rest.

In fact, dear sir, you soon will wince...

and Cratchet's stab's the test.


You see, she'll look for Balladeer

in Michelangelo's van

and when the jump start's getting near,

She'll shout out, ”There's my man!"


She'll see you bend beneath the hood--

aim her needle toward your head,

because your butt's been swapped for you,

it's now your head, instead!

You see, although you think I paint

with splash of paint, by feel--

I really paint reality,

yep, what I paint's soon real!


So when I tell you that your crown

has fallen off your head...

Just look behind you, then look down,

it's on your butt, instead!

Haha, you thought your comments 'bout

my last name were real cute!

Haha, watch out, my witty friend,

this is an ARTIST's ‘Stute.




Pablo P.

Artiste Extraordinaire





It wasn't hard to find you guys, though Jimi and Walt tried to spoof me.

They sent me to Pluto by dragonfly, I took the bus to Goofy.

And here we are a lovely bunch, bananas everywhere.

I walked to school and brought my lunch, so Hey!, don't touch me there!

Wow! that Ratchet's hands are cold, I like the color blue.

All is going according to plan, there's so much here to do!

I can alphabetize and prioritize, to my hearts content.

Which might be why I'm ”tutionalized', who signed that darn consent?

Hmmm... I find this by it's nature queer,

though I've got rounds to do.

Even the poems are schizoid here,

I must try to think this through.


Dr. Moose



Justin Thyme


Dr. MOOSE!!!! I didn't recognize you! I

thought you were that new dude Cratchet

hired.... damn! nope, it's YOU, alright! How

you been, buddy? I haven't seen you since

St. Elizabeth's! (Remember when you broke

into the lab and got all that extra Prozac?

LOL... you were OUT there, buddy boy!

You better watch out for that kinda thing

Over here. Crachet will eat you alive!)


hehehe... but if you're looking for a ”patient",

try that dude, balladeer. He doesn't even

know he's in the ‘Stute! He'll never be able

to follow your ”credentials"... hehehe... just

tell him all the ‘Stutes you've been

at and he'll bend over for a shot!


for the laugh, big moose. LOL



-Justin T.



Justin Kace


I did not eat that Toe last night

Nor chewed on VanGogh's ear

Instead I called on Balladeer

And told him of my plight


I said this dinner's really bad

I wouldn't eat it so -

Tough Toenails Michelangelo

You're really all quite mad...


While Doctor Moose was doing rounds

Deer got there Justin Thyme

To save the day for Justin Kace

As amputees abound...


While in this ‘Stute don't ever nag -

Just look at Pablo's butt

This Toe will rot - For off it's cut

Let's wrap it in a rag...


We got the rag - the Toe inside

So Vince would never know -

But please don't fret - I know that Toe

Rag's in formaldehyde....





I'm going to the garden

to weave a little bit.

You all are basket-KACES.

I think you all are LIT.



your friend,

Pablo P.

(hey, Leonardo! I hear there's an ”ool” at

St. Sophia's.... no”p”in it... hehehe)





I really must confess, I'm not in on this with Ratchet.

Just 'cause I do ”knee jerk tests”, with my rubber hatchet.

I only took this job here, at the Institute,

to deal with some personal fears, that I have of ”mixed fruit”!

Those and missing body parts, and paintings on the ceiling.

As a student of the arts, I find these most revealing.

Why... as I remarked to Dorothy, just the other day,

We're not in Kansas anymore you see,

( which blew her right away ).

Justin Kace you see me, while my rounds I make.

Think it not conspiracy, with Ratchet that old fake.

She'll be causing me no trouble, I know this for a fact.

I can burst her little bubble, now I've wised- up to her act.

I caught her in the west wing, popping pills like they were candy.

Pablo painted everything, so I got proof, which comes in handy.

But keep this under your paper hat, about old Ratchet's thieving.

We can't let her get wind of that, or the grounds I will be leaving!



Nurse Crachet


I seemed to have caught a breeze

blowing in a mighty nasty sneeze

why Dr. Moose is spreading germs

amongst our famous wacky worms

Nurse Crachet's here to protect

my nieve worms from neglect

I know my worms love me so

and that is why I let them grow

herbal plants on window sills

to chase away their evil chills

so Dr. Moose you best beware

germs you spread may be rare

but I have defenses at hand

that make oreo cookies bland.





You don't scare me Cratchet, I'm hip to your game,

I broke out of this place, find me by my name!



Justine Uff


There they all are - I've been looking

Justin All The Wrong Places








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