Posts Tagged ‘ward’

jacknicholson

She said,‘When he walked past me I felt a shiver down my spine. But I wasn’t sure if it was a good shiver or a bad shiver.’
She said,‘I asked him if he was a bikie. He looked like a bikie’
She said, ‘He said no’
She said, ‘Then I saw him coming out from the IGA, with beers’
She said, ‘And I said hey baby come over here’
She said, ‘And we had some drinks
She said ‘I know he’s a good man even though I’ve only known him for three hours’
She said ‘Have you got ‘dreams’ by the cranberries
She drank all the wine, and spoke too loudly
But she was like a firecracker, so full of life
I felt good for my mate, he’d met her in the psychiatric ward- the rsvp for the sanity-impaired
I wished them both well after we had gotten really stoned on two sticks
They left me a few cones
I thought to myself- I’ve got to get back to the Gigglebin, and they left

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In ward D4 cigarettes are chain-smoked till the air is fuzzy blue dynamite and new friendships are born of shared suffering:
We have no time for social skills or etiquette in ward d4- you are who you are, however crazy that may be.
Real emotions and real language is found among the sanity-impaired, we speak our twisted truth without impediment.
Someone’s just come back from shock treatment and she looks pretty dazed.
She looks like she has just seen God and he was not amused.
Her brain has been scrubbed clean of memories with medicinal electricity- bright and shiny new.

Playing my guitar in ward D4,
A contorted kind of celebrity accrues.
Play us another one so we can sing along,
To songs about CIA mind control tornados and arcane masonic conspiracies .

My mates bring me fragrant cones in ward d4
But I don’t get caught because everyone is on such vast quantities of drugs that one more doesn’t make much difference.
Secret ganga rituals in ward d4 – bucket bongs are delivered to the fence and inhaled:
The place is pretty amazing when you’re bent.

Sometimes there is romance in the ward D4,
This is a disco for the psychiatrically disturbed and dysfunctional.
New heavily medicated couples snatch moments of amour in the bathrooms,
They pledge eternal love in the face of psychiatric obstacles and the objections of the staff.

‘Medication Time! Medication Time!’
Such a multitude of multi-coloured pills.
Who gets what?
It’s like getting a big bag of lollies when you’re a kid.
The Benzodiazapines are usually the best- you’d have to be pretty lucky to get morphine.

Chain smoking with the beautiful nurses in ward D4 is fun,
Some of us find it a luxury to have a pretty girl listen to our problems and savour each moment.
So they listen to mixture of inspired and uninspired story,
And give harmless advice because they pretend to care in ward D4.
There may be no hope but there is always advice.

My roommate says that there are messages for him in Xpress, and on the TV, and on his Steely Dan records-
He is convinced of this. The messages are all similar and tell him to kill himself.
A strangely self-centred delusion in which everyone wants to talk to him – he is the apex of a vast conspiracy.
I can’t think why anyone would want to send him a real message-
It would only freak him out.
The CIA, the masons and God are very busy sending personalized coded messages in ward D4.
Next time, I’m going to complain if I don’t get one.
A message with the key to life composed of revelatory syllables of back-masked wisdom.