“THE REVOLVING DOOR,” a poem in the series: “My RIVER CREST Experiences,” for: Saturday, October 5, 2019 a.k.a.: “Thanks, RIVER CREST, For The Memories.” a.k.a.: “A River Crest Philosophy and Way of Life.” a.k.a.: “On Picking Up Patients.”

“We don’t have enough beds for [all] the people we’re doping up on our drugs,

So we’re trying yoga & talk therapy (keeping the drugs, of course); we’re THUGS,

Wearing t-shirts with slogans that say: ‘WE’RE [R]I[C][H],’

That WE [R] ehabilitate (i) [C] are & [H] eal. (Ah.) ourFavoriteCostume’sTheWITCH,”

Because The Witch casts spells and wants a lot of money,

So (s)he can have a nice candy cane house and call “the children” “Honey,”

While drugging them before she puts them in THE STEW,

So she can eat ’em up; you know, HERS is a frightful brew.

“COME on, Children, eat my potions, play checkers and do some yoga too,

So I can have A STEADY JOB.” These words, my friends, are true.

To all my new friends at RIVER CREST hospital, I thank you for your kindness;

I KNOW your job’s impossible, but THE SYSTEM, it is “timeless.”

Perhaps you might find another job (with your skills, you know that you can) [to] do,

Rather than perpetuating this system of HORROR, which canOnlyMakeUs “BLUE.”

My poor friend’s back in town now; some how we made it through THE STORM,

Of EXTREMELY DANGEROUS road travel, after he had left “his dorm.”

I offer my sympathy going out to all you good folks whom I got to meet there:

You are BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE, with kind faces, and I know you care,

I could hear it in your voices AND see the terror in your eyes,

So, with you, I truly (really, I do) em pathize.

Now, what is going to happen to my DEAR FRIEND,

Who’s back in Alpine; I’ve no idea where this will end.

So, thanks for your help for the last week or 10 days.

But, as we all know, DRUGS ARE A STOPGAP to the scourge of mental haze.

Au revoir and ciao, especially to Mercedes and The Physical Therapy Teacher.

Dear RIVER CREST, of course, I fell in love; I hope this poem doth reach her,

To tell My Blessed “Facility,” “I think you’re divine;”

Even the receptionist was wonderful; yes, oh, so fine.

Perhaps, we’ll all meet again, on another fine and fateful day,

When ALL THIS HORROR has subsided, & we no longer need to be fearful or gray.

fin β™₯


Published by J Jay Samuel Davis

A West Texas Cowboy, seeking "fishers of (wo)men!"

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