The Brave Patient File

These words were the only record-able utterances of a psychiatrist who was locked in a mental ward for an extended period of time.
All screams, shouts, and incessant ranting have been reproduced (with the best possible accuracy)
chronologically in this poem...

The Brave Patient File

in more than eight different ways
a check can end up in your mailbox
do you have to be a fox or mockingbird
to say what is courageous

it comes in cowards
it comes in fools
it comes in children at school
hurls and towers

it's easy to look up
lying in a pit
for comics and killers
it's hard to sit

the bravery of a seed in a wicker basket
it's hard to be super when you're all ready fantastic

with all that can be what you can't bottle is brave
a drunken savior who's as rich as a grave

what's worth being said when the world knows its weight
when a man only does what's given to stake
it matters not to run or flee at the curse of what's seen
even running in traffic
one small crushed man saying splat doesn't matter
for an ant or duck life is graphic

I won't abide by a class slave
when an entrepreneur behaves
all that is done to fill an account
with an open palm a fist can pounce
nothing matters in a broken barn
can't give back what's harmed

I've been pumped full and I've been drained
a good doctor prescribes vegetables
I deflated my tires and drove for miles
now I'm exhausted
the shrink that knows best has retired

experience isn't always the best thing to have
we've all got one

who isn't daring enough to drip their self dry
to water their own barren sky

how many mistaken lobotomies does it take to earn a rake
I've missed the adventures of my own misadventures
drugs make more than my throat dry
enough of one thing can make a drooling fool
I studied too much for school

I still see and hear things
they used to try and tell me what to do
now I wear them thrift shop shoes

this office isn't as bad
as I am now locked in a can
with large men swinging chairs at light fixtures
what place isn't hard to face with purple chairs that eat fright

I played cards with a man that said “money burns”
before I saw a man that other people called doctor
in a world like this doctors decide if you come and go
where does it matter if it's where you don't know

Hell of I Hell if me Hell if you
Hell of jail Hell of free Hell of shoes
I'd like to wear cheese that doesn't fit like liquor

why ask yourself to fit in a well
wheels can burn and wheels can be swollen

oh what a joy to fire joy from a canon
mixed in a pill and washed down with Santa
faith can be bought and loyalty given
happy abysmal nachos and business

the senile man sitting next to me screamed
“look out world here I come”
all I can think is that's what I was like when I was young

I've dreamed of being stoned as a knight
double barreled popcorn and sticky bun fights
I drank blood when I was young
my dear love's meat was dry off the bone

how much can it hurt to be right
with cans of processed things tied to your ankles
when your knees are out of work you have to hire
when strapped down best can your eyes spare vision

liars are living and liars are mangled
I've lied plenty in farms and hospitals

I've played relaxing games with pleasure and shame
you can't live on your knees while laying back

courage is something else
than broken pleasantries on a shelf
everyone has the grace of audacity
blind, sharing, or bourgeoisie
sometimes the bold can ring a bell
others just sit in a drunk tank

how much does an old man want to be new
not if he can afford a bottle
it's a serious issue to be taken care of

I tried to put myself in plastic and change my taste
nothing makes a joker fit like an ace
neither wild nor daring or false
a drowning man can't fake a pulse

that which goes down smooth can be choked down
anyone can step up away from a warden

who couldn't run away
with sparklers for parents born as a slave

there's people sick as me healthy living around
what clown isn't willing to kill for a laugh

I'd lay down with chum and swine
for a barrel of children refusing to cheer up
I'd pick up a pickle for a working ghoul's sale
and light up a bowl of wine

I've rolled down an alley to smash up some pin heads
laying in the gutter wins the cool prize
lying for a win and winning for a lie

I've waited for pennies I've waited for saints
I waited for saviors, chimneys, and plane
none of this can change what I please
when I refuse that shiny red glue

let my hands penetrate what needs a dangle
can creation be art can art be free of mange

stage, change, and rearrange
an ape in a suit for Vishnu
fits in in a bank

what have I done to be myself
saints, parents, ferries, elves with nothing washed
if the life of the world is real
what I am isn't on that shelf

born to be obscene
what man isn't daring if he isn't subdued
grits and butter blood and shudder
carry the load on a bumpy road

I thought I chipped my tooth in a dream
every night I go out in my head
when death grabs me
I'll say a quote “next”

I like to play with mazes
the different fazes of glazes
guillotines and butter beans
next to crosses on my plate

every time a child wakes up
there's a man to starve on bile like mustard
innocence starts and churns into pudding
the puss from a wound can musk up a cupboard

all that can do is lead to used shoes
the tax of staring at rusty old ear rings
you can't break a hole unless it's a dish
sometimes I can't get rest unless I drink whiskey
then glasses snap

there's a place I start to go to every day
I'll make it there one day but I'll never come back
a much too comfortable sack of yours for a home

everything I've ever set to stew
left me staring at eggs to hatch when
my feet are crooked and my teeth are on fire
I've tried to save justice and had to wait for flags to unfurl

everything done whether vane or saved
safely inhabitants are weighed by your waste

plain eggs one sided or scrambled
star spangled disputes for dollars or cattle

everything gray is black and white
the scale of what's greater
dependent upon sight

the colors of what's real
much too horridly grim
to hold eyes open while all are present

there's nice drives and walks in parks
there's ways made for landfills
call it sultry and capitol sparks

run in seclusion broken from the grid
the consequence of delusion
what gift can you live
when a ditch is regardless

goal two, three, and four
first too worrisome what's threatening adds more
when you can't conquer fate just do your chores

I've felt alive and I've felt crippled
I've gone through deliverance and been tickled pink
it's not always as simple as what feeds from nipples

I decided I'd rather write a Psalm than a poem
only a neurologist can tell if you're stoic

I tried to slit my wrist with a dildo
I'm a Christian of course that won't work
it's the only thing out of season I couldn't find
unsuccessful I tried a politician
cut deeply blinding so locked up through Christmas

I've tried to save cowards, old ladies, and children
I've had to wait on fees and forms being processed
I've tried to save kittens, puppies, and trees
waiting on mechanics, chefs, and flees

I've seen the lowliest fool act like a lion
a man with no passion is a man who can't triumph
then a city can lay down the boldest monster
look at me in here though I'm a psychiatrist

I've tried to save myself
I've tired to save the day
all of this another wait
for just another brave


The beliefs stated in this work are not all held in agreement by the cataloger. -

Poem by:
M.E.L.