It's kind of fun finding old writings. First, it brings back old memories. Second, it allows me to see, if my writing ability has changed much in 20 years. In this case; clearly not. In fact, I can see, I was a bit of a word-elitist, even way back then.

What I'm presenting here, are 5 poems, which I'll call, "Tri-City Stuff". That was in 1987-88, when I worked one year, at Tri-City Hospital, in Vista, California. I think there may be other writings from that year, but these are just some poems I discovered today, in box 92. This was a time, when "The Underside of Nursing" had yet to be created; these were mere seeds of psyche, fermenting in a warm dark place.

Let's have a go at it, OK?

1987 - 1988:

A Life of Leisure

Cathy, I regret
To inform you on this day,
That I'm leaving this establishment
And traveling on my way.

I assure, in all honesty
'Twas nothing said or done,
A valuable experience
Indeed, I thought it fun.

As nurses, none compare
To this crew, you deftly hired,
Believe me, when I tell you
I was professionally inspired,
So much, I stay awake now
While the night turns into day,
With such stimulating colleagues
I could choose no better way.

Which sums it up, I guess
The memories that I'll treasure,
Now, I'm heading for the mountains
To lead a life of leisure.

Fibril_late; 6/88


The Runner-Band Revolution

The rubber-bands were flying
Like bees about the hive,
It was war in CCU again
Will replacements, soon arrive?
The Chief is working overtime
A master of defense,
This war is getting on her nerves
She’s soon to take offense.

It’s been a long and hoary battle
With participants, too many,
To count the sundry causes
Of this infraction; are there any?
Who knows, who do we ask
Who do we hire, for this task?
Let’s find some folks, down in the city
To come together, in a committee,
To ask some questions and find some answers
Hire a task-force, of dirty-dancers,
Come on folks, let’s get professional
Have a seat in my confessional,
Pass a rumor, go for broke,
There’s a few of us
Who just can’t joke.

What the Hell
It’s been a lot of fun,
For a few of us
But, not everyone.

And........after all is said and done,
I’m glad we gave it
One good run.

Fibril_late; 1988


I’m Sure I’m Not Dead

Too cold, for the living
Just right for the dead,
Now I’m chilled to the core
I just want a warm bed.

Move over, people
And give me some covers,
I’m freezing, you heard me
It don’t mean we’re lovers.

How about some coffee
Or warm soup and bread,
I may look catatonic
But I’m sure I’m not dead.

Too late...........life is flashing
Like a sleigh, across the Arctic,
My boat just came in
And I finally parked-it.

Fibril_late; 1987


A Testing Ground

Can you believe this water-situation
Once again,
It makes me squirm to think about
The germs upon this pen,
Let alone, the creepy crawly things
That habitate this room,
You know, I think this water thing
Is a plot, to bring our doom.

For months, I have suspected
That the night shift is the place,
A testing ground for maniacs
That run the human race,
They think we will not notice
Because our eyes are almost closed,
And by the morning, what’s the difference?
......I don’t know, I must have dozed!

Fibril-late; 3/88


Queen of the Monitor


At night, there sits upon this floor
A wondrous person that guards the door,
And protects us all from dire doom
Yes, peace doth reign, when she’s in the room.

On the mighty scale, of worthless jobs
She’s at the top of all the slobs,
And a credit to members of her sex
She’s Queen of all the monitor techs.

So, roll out the carpet
She’s out in the hall,
Bow down to the queen
Or her axe will fall,
And she’ll torture you till
The morning sun rises,
Then you will understand
How her stories, have won prizes.

Fibril_late;
4/1988