Thursday, August 30, 2007

3A Hai Ku

3A is the in-patient mental health building at the VA Hospital in Salt Lake City. As I write this, I've been admitted there four times. During my fourth visit, I wrote Hai Ku poetry that is presented here. Some of them are amusing, others are kinda serious.

They are broken down into six categories:

"Leading Up" is about the last night before I checked into the hospital. This, in and of itself, is NOT what put me there. It was just the last thing that kinda pushed me over the edge. In all fairness, I was already teetering on the brink at the time.

"On Arrival" is just that. My feelings on arriving at the ward.

"On the routine" consists of my reflections on the daily activities in the ward.

"On the Level" are some more serious and introspective thoughts.

"Linda" is my favorite nurse.

"Farewell" is my love-letter to the staff.

Leading Up
Stuck on the mountain

The mud slide keeps us up there

I cannot calm down
Where did she come from?

I didn't know she was here

I keep my distance
They all start a fire

I want to warm myself too

But I stay away
I stare at my boots

Coated with mud. It binds me

I can't take them off

On Arrival
Same nut cases here

Their faces are different

Stay out of my room
My face is the same

But I've been here four times now

I'm a nut case too
I have my own room

But there's a camera in it

I get no "Me" time
He makes me nervous

He says the F-word a lot

I'll get over it
She's cute and she's gay

I saw her with her girlfriend

I envy them both

On The Routine
"Come get your breakfast"

We all line up like cattle

Who stole my coffee?
Time for therapy

"Tell me about your childhood"

"It's my parents' fault"
I'm a narcissist

That's what's so great about me

And I'm humble too
Do you know what's wrong?

Clearly it's low self esteem

Snap out of it, jerk!

On the Level
Photos and paintings

Hanging unseen on the walls

No one wants to look
Glad I'm not a drunk

Don't have to go through withdrawal

I still feel my pain
I so need a shave

No razors allowed in here

"I promise I won't..."
I wish she was here

On second thought, no I don't

She deserves better

She's "almost fifty"

I can't believe it either

She's a real cutie
Just one silly joke

Insinuating is best

Her face becomes red

They're the ones in charge

Docs just visit and say, "Hi"

Nurses run the show

Tuesday, August 28, 2007


(revised March 10, 2011)

Five little green pills.
One and a half blue pills.
One GIANT horse pill.
Half of an orange pill.

The little green pills are for depression.
Having to take them every day depresses me.

The blue pills (no, not THOSE blue pills) are for anxiety.
Having to take all these damn pills makes me anxious.

Before I choked on the 1000 mg horse pills,
I gagged on the 500 mg ones.
I asked if I could just take two 500s instead of the 1000s.
They said, "Yes."
And sent me 750s.

The orange pill is for cholesterol.
This pill is split in half.

Splitting the pill allows it to get stuck on your tongue.
The chalky, bitter, disgusting face of the broken half
rubbing across your taste buds making you want to PUKE!

But you better not!
Otherwise you'll have to take them ALL over again!

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Half Empty

Only half of the walls have pictures on them.
The other half are empty.

Only half of the bathroom counter space is taken up by anything.
The other half is empty.

Only half of the bedroom looks lived in.
The other half is empty.

There are two closets.
Only one is filled with trousers, shirts, shoes and ties.
The other one is empty.

Why are half the walls bare?
Why are the rooms half empty?
Why is one closet going unused?

For the same reason I only sleep on one half of my bed.
I'm just waiting for someone.
Someone to come and fill the empty space.