Watching the program on the Magdalene Laundries and listening to Joe Duffy last week you can only wonder about it all and just when does the "News" become the news. Probably at some distance that is safely removed. This all went on up to very recent times and yet hardly merited a mention in the press, or on radio or television at the time. The norm can be a dangerous place. And yet nothing much has changed, it just shape-shifts to "virtual wards" and waiting lists and block booking appointments, and you just wonder who will write it all up at some future date and apologize to those who didn't quite make it. I wrote this poem when the Celtic Tiger was on the prowl, and before the "Clamper-Vans" moved into the Public Hospitals. Easy pickings!
The Graveyard Shift.
The remains
Moulding away.
Like a passing fancy
Gone...stretched
On some convenience.
Hadn't a prayer.
And poor enough service
In the end.
Attendants,
Drifting in and out.
Dying for a smoke.
Getting their fix
From some box in a corner
Plastered with exhortations
To eat more fruit
Cake while you're waiting
Hollowed eyed
Behind frosted glass
Filling in details.
Have you had an accident?
Is your visit really necessary?
Killing time!
To degrees of indifference,
Next!
Frank Murphy.
Frank Murphy.
Photo: Tricolour at Scurlogstown.
2 comments:
Greet artcile, but it would be better if in future you can share more about this subject. Keep rocking.
Many thanks for comment on that.
FM.
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