Sitting at the dinner table,
Want to eat but I’m not able,
Wearing this strait ‘dinner jacket’,
Doctors say that I’m not stable.
Sucking beverage through a straw,
For I cannot move my jaw,
Doctors think that I will bite,
And they think that I will claw.
I am such a gentle person,
Though they think that I may worsen,
Just because I threaten people,
With my words and with my cursin’.
“Mary had a little lamby,
And she named her lamby, Bambi,”
Bambi was a girl who hurt me,
No! – I think her name was Tammy.
“Hey, hey diddle, cat did piddle,
On the fence, right down the middle,”
There is nothing wrong with me,
I am crazy, just a little.
Time to go back to my cell,
I’m not feeling very well,
All these pills that I am poppin’,
Make me feel like I’m in Hell.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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David, the thing that I disliked most about poetry is the fact that I could never understand what the heck the poet was saying. They seemed to be speaking in a cryptic language all their own, yet their poems were acclaimed. The point that I’m trying to make is this. You write so clear in plain understandable language and I want to thank you for that. I like the way you express yourself. You are not even a little nuts.