Ward Notes: 12/25/99
Dear Reader: There is no lonely quite like being lonely at Christmas, except perhaps, being in a mental hospital at Christmas. - I researched this poem the hard way, which is how I go about researching all my creative endeavors. It's the only way I know to write with authority; and you, dear reader, deserve nothing less than that. AMcH
Ward Notes: 12/25/99
Divinity and madness
Are strolling hand in hand
Down glossy corridors
Like smitten teenage lovers
Awash in the reflected glow
Of sickly chartreuse walls
And it came to
Passed out, in those days
That Harry, after he got his degree
Said everyone should surrender their tacks
Because they’d be needed later for the crown
I am in the way, and have a light
Not a real one, you understand
A paper one for our plastic tree
A real one might burn my hand
I saw three ships come sailing in
Come sailing in, come sailing in
Come sailing in across the desert
A cross for the deserted ones
To bear
And shepherds washed their socks by night
I don’t wear socks
I wear slippers
The soles never leave the floor
The souls here never leave the floor either
And the angel of the lord said
Dig me, for I am the real deal
I’m a square meal and a cheap feel
We have angels too
Big, handsome, and black
Dressed in dazzling white
We are sore and afraid
Joe, Mary, and some smart ass
Hung out at the table
With a manager
And some lowly beets of burden
There was no room at the
Inn maculate misconception
Mary a virgin
That’s so funny that it’s
Really funny
All our contracts have a sanity clause
We think that’s funny too
Three wise guys came to visit J.C.
We don’t get many visitors here
Lawyers, social workers
When family and friends get buzzed inside
Through the wire mesh doors
And the thick metal doors
With the square little windows
Mostly they just end up crying
And their visits dry up
Like so much spilled milk
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus
In the ward he’s as common as
Restraints
In the ward he’s just another
Persecuted Jew
Tormented, reviled, despised
People run into him routinely
And call his sacred name into the air
In fact, for quite a while
I was Jesus
Treading on the earth in grace
And beauty
Then they adjusted my meds
Magic in a paper cup
Eat this child
My body
Drink this child
Orange juice
Wash the tablets down
Oh heavenly hostess twinkle
Like some poor, misguided star
Oh come oh come Emmanuel
Can’t you hear me call you?
Do you hear what I don’t?
Here and now
Jesus was born in waddling clothes
The tunic and sandals came later
Here we wear robes and slippers
In the ward, Jesus
Is just another cat who thinks he’s Jesus
We don’t make a fuss
We’re used to celebrities here
I even saw Elvis once
Retching like mad in the porcelain bowl
In-between spews I heard
The king crooning
Lonesome tonight?
Waaafff
Lonesome tonight?
Waaafff
And I thought to myself
Yes, I am
Nestled in the safety of
A shatterproof case
The radio
Pumps Christmas tunes
Like a sump pump
Pumping out sludge
The ward looks flat and colorless
It’s hard to stay awake
Sitting, smoking, staring
At the snow that descends
Like curtains made of gauze
Visions, angels, redemption
Are as common as playing cards here
Jesus would feel right at home
Mystic fire burns within
The eyes that have gazed upon Satan
Being possessed and speaking in tongues
Are as common as fits of rage
Joy to the world
And Dawn and Dove
And every other soap
So you can wash that blood
Right out of your hair
And Evan and Nate sure sing
And Evan and Nate sure sing
And Evan and Evan
And Nate sure sing
Alistair McHarg
CLICK HERE TO DISCOVER MY MEMOIR AND NOVELS!
Ward Notes: 12/25/99
Divinity and madness
Are strolling hand in hand
Down glossy corridors
Like smitten teenage lovers
Awash in the reflected glow
Of sickly chartreuse walls
And it came to
Passed out, in those days
That Harry, after he got his degree
Said everyone should surrender their tacks
Because they’d be needed later for the crown
I am in the way, and have a light
Not a real one, you understand
A paper one for our plastic tree
A real one might burn my hand
I saw three ships come sailing in
Come sailing in, come sailing in
Come sailing in across the desert
A cross for the deserted ones
To bear
And shepherds washed their socks by night
I don’t wear socks
I wear slippers
The soles never leave the floor
The souls here never leave the floor either
And the angel of the lord said
Dig me, for I am the real deal
I’m a square meal and a cheap feel
We have angels too
Big, handsome, and black
Dressed in dazzling white
We are sore and afraid
Joe, Mary, and some smart ass
Hung out at the table
With a manager
And some lowly beets of burden
There was no room at the
Inn maculate misconception
Mary a virgin
That’s so funny that it’s
Really funny
All our contracts have a sanity clause
We think that’s funny too
Three wise guys came to visit J.C.
We don’t get many visitors here
Lawyers, social workers
When family and friends get buzzed inside
Through the wire mesh doors
And the thick metal doors
With the square little windows
Mostly they just end up crying
And their visits dry up
Like so much spilled milk
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus
In the ward he’s as common as
Restraints
In the ward he’s just another
Persecuted Jew
Tormented, reviled, despised
People run into him routinely
And call his sacred name into the air
In fact, for quite a while
I was Jesus
Treading on the earth in grace
And beauty
Then they adjusted my meds
Magic in a paper cup
Eat this child
My body
Drink this child
Orange juice
Wash the tablets down
Oh heavenly hostess twinkle
Like some poor, misguided star
Oh come oh come Emmanuel
Can’t you hear me call you?
Do you hear what I don’t?
Here and now
Jesus was born in waddling clothes
The tunic and sandals came later
Here we wear robes and slippers
In the ward, Jesus
Is just another cat who thinks he’s Jesus
We don’t make a fuss
We’re used to celebrities here
I even saw Elvis once
Retching like mad in the porcelain bowl
In-between spews I heard
The king crooning
Lonesome tonight?
Waaafff
Lonesome tonight?
Waaafff
And I thought to myself
Yes, I am
Nestled in the safety of
A shatterproof case
The radio
Pumps Christmas tunes
Like a sump pump
Pumping out sludge
The ward looks flat and colorless
It’s hard to stay awake
Sitting, smoking, staring
At the snow that descends
Like curtains made of gauze
Visions, angels, redemption
Are as common as playing cards here
Jesus would feel right at home
Mystic fire burns within
The eyes that have gazed upon Satan
Being possessed and speaking in tongues
Are as common as fits of rage
Joy to the world
And Dawn and Dove
And every other soap
So you can wash that blood
Right out of your hair
And Evan and Nate sure sing
And Evan and Nate sure sing
And Evan and Evan
And Nate sure sing
Alistair McHarg
CLICK HERE TO DISCOVER MY MEMOIR AND NOVELS!
Wow! Powerfully good! Merry Christmas!
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Thanks so much - glad you enjoyed it. I can tell you it goes over well with audiences when I read it aloud - (I do a passable Elvis impression, which helps!)
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