Seventy Two Hours Of Internment Poem by Robin Bennett

Right on cue, here comes the bland-
colored crazy wagon to take me away;
Hopefully this time, they packed a,
straight jacket in my size and color.

Lock me up again, inside frog green walls-
where zombies shuffle step their way to,
some insanely stupid session where souls,
sleep walk, and drool through the madness.

You sent me here, you vengeful mad fool-
land of the walking dead, drugged bliss;
a rainbow cup of pills, reminding me,
of assorted candies in a child's Easter basket.

Gladly, I lap them up with putrid tap water-
the shower reminds me of a gas chamber at Dachau;
I'd rather linger in the stench of insanity, thank you very much!
Seventy-two hours locked up, could make anyone mad.

I don't belong here. Yet this is part of your master plan.
Will you cram me on a cattle car to send me away next?
Maybe you will insist I refer to you as IL Duce or the Fuhrer now-
Well you can take your evil plans, your ugly mustache, and odd words,
And just leave me the hell alone, before I overthrow your mad rules.