Saturday 22 January 2011

ladies & gentlemen, doctors & nurses

this place is a casualty department
all our mouths moan "nurse!
give me the x-ray of your attention
prescribe the lifting of my curse"

it's any gathering of adults, it's a nightclub, it's a street
dolce and gabana is the rich kids' bandage
the poor ones just overeat
the walking wounded and the basket cases
limp from scene to scene
hunting out some loving surgeon
with a double life-support machine
but they'll settle for a butcher and an aspirin
- they'll get by
bones fuse and nerves dull, you can even fix a smile
she says 'we love each other really
we just walk a crooked mile'

one man's meat is another's meat substitute
yet no-one can stand alone -
this catch 22 makes mincemeat
of all the turkeys waiting by the phone
the foot-soldiers and the sacrificial lambs
get dolled up and they drift
into the arms of the venus de milo
hoping for a fireman's lift
but they just get judo, or fuck all
and yet doctors and nurses, plainclothes, exist
their soft blows heal the breaks
their tongues apply wild lotions
licking deep into the aches
these are the good spin-doctors
when the planet grinds they help it glide
untrained, unpaid and unannounced
they appear at your side
damaged fruit can make champagne
roses blossom through manure
natural medicine floods our veins
venom is venom's cure

2 comments:

  1. Greatness surely sits upon your shoulders Mick. As the dog that urinates effortlessly to the pavement. It's natural, is what I say. Although it's probably likely to cause some offence to the average pedestrian.

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  2. thank you romanticanarchist. you are who i write for.

    ReplyDelete