Thursday, October 03, 2013


What with all of the heavy-handed "you can't do this" internet usage crap we have to listen to, and all of that dubious HIPPA rules nonsense, it's a wonder we can even communicate anymore. I figured it was time I put a disclaimer statement at The Underside of Nursing, to protect me in the event, somebody bothers ("authority figure") to read my blog. Naturally, I had to make it rhyme.


All of the names
Are perpetually changed,
If you think I wrote about you
Then you are deranged,
The quaint situations
That I write of, are fiction,
The imaginary locations
Are out of my jurisdiction.

I'm not writing screenplays
Based on true stories,
Although I've had inspiration
From hospital laboratories,
Where bodily fluids
And Lab Techs commingle,
When I visit that place
My idea's really tingle.

If you think that you recognized
Your Uncle Bob, in my story,
You most likely get sentimental
When they raise up Old Glory.
High on the flagpole
Every year in July.
When I write about Billy-Bob
He's just fiction; don't cry.

My poetry is a journal
A diary of sorts,
A multi-decade document
With rhyming reports,
Regarding my state of mind
Daily travels and deeds,
It just so happens, I have a job
Where somebody bleeds.

So, it's not about you
Your mother or father,
More likely a situation
That was really a  bother,
And later I unloaded
Another story of fiction,
Of post-traumatic-stress
A symbolic benediction.


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