A Struggle Without A Prescription

A Struggle Without A Prescription......

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Of a long ago someone in literature

wrote a line,

'to hell and back.'

Three years ago for me

there was this doctor of the mind,

whose understanding of what was wrong with me,

subsequently wrote a prescription,

seeing that all I needed,

was a pill for this,

a pill for that,

and a pill for almost everything else,

and his wisdom cried from the rooftops,

"these new ones will help you Olde son,

in order for you,

to lead a better life....mentally."

Three years from there,

and three years in a lamenting mood,

I have just about tried the bloody lot

that comes each Monday morn,

packed in a convenient blister pack,

'cause ya see I have been,

three years in hell with all the side effects,

that make chemical companies

wet in their pants with excitement,

and mind doctors too,

for there is a lucrative trade

and a bloody fortune to be made,

out of what I suffer,

trembling hands,

clicking tongue,

riding of the surf depression,

sitting down shitting bricks,

crying uncontrollably,

high as a kite I fly,

then patting the big black dog for company.

I really don’t how I survive

on a struggle without a prescription,

and when I see my doctor,

who with a smile,

or is smirk a better word,

and when he is a contemplative mood,

“Oh Olde son,

just try this new one it will take away from you

everything that makes you blue.”

And after a month or two

on a trip upstairs,

I shout from the rooftops

“Bloody hell with all these pills!”

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