A Play on another writer's poetry


Ode to a Greek, Doctor Testicles [Tes ti clees]

Doctor, Doctor, How 'm I doin?

I have no idea until I check you over
under all around bottom to the top.
Strip! I'll send a nurse
to help you cover!
I smiled just a moment,
barely perceptible.
Perhaps a nurse, potential lover?

The shirt off quickly came,
shoes as well and socks the same.
The briefs? Hmmm, they seemed too brief
too long on me, too tight.
Perhaps had better been the boxers, light
but holding still not much from sight. . .
then checked the whole engrossing form. . .
far grosser than exceeds the norm.

Then nurse came in for helping me
alas, this nurse, no she but he –
and yanked my briefs down to the floor –
he helped me, Lawd, please help no more!
An open gown was left to wear –
naught else while I was waitin' there.

The wait was longer than I planned
all posters read , twice, then again
the organs random on the wall
describin' what they do, and then
what happens to them all
from injuries, age, accident.

At length the Doc arrived equipped
to probe and pry my every pore
seemed everything was rubber tipped
as if I were a common whore

and I looked HIM over
chumpy ol' chap he was
chubby cheeks'
stubby fingers
bubbly smile
bushy brows
above eyes a twinkle
'til he broke my reverie

demanding that I try to tinkle
handed me a lidded cup
'n I knew he too had musta knowed it
I was so full the beer alone
wit' out a doubt could over flowed it,

an wit' one hand he felt my head
make sure it stopped at 9 - 8 - 6
n' stuck a flat end tapered stick
my opened mouth demanding AAHHHH
'n rammed that log down way soo faaarrrr
ah gurgled , splurgled, near went sppplaatttt
all o'er his close intrusive fat.

Then hand went up to check my nose,
my ears, and throat while still my clothes
hung sloppily across the chair
his one hand went all through my hair
searching what? for nits and things?
then soft a gentle voice said, "Cough!"
one hand STILL grasping ding-a-lings
as coughing, gasping, choking, gasping
could not cease to tell 'im, "Stop!"

But he kept on my balls a'clingin'
holdin' tight my ears were ringin'
an' I wondered what went wrong,
why the Doc held on so long.
Till turned I lookin' at 'is eyes
Lo, behold, to my surprise,
his face was greying darker, gloomy
eyeballs bulging, glossy, rheumy,
thought I he to be too ecstatic
or some vacant, stiff, rheumatic,
and still he clung without a sound
not e'en the nurse had stayed around.

I grabbed both hands around his wrist
my hanging balls still in his fist;
he would not loosen up his grip
as tighter, I bit lower lip
not his, but mine in anguish, pain
while in his grip my balls remain,
unmoving he against the gurney
on this sexless deadly journey
made I once more my last demand,
"Doctor, loosen up your hand."

But he could hear nothing I said,
oblivious to my command,
he stood there cold, too stiff, erect,
stone deaf as bust of Pericles, [Per i clees]
and time I took to re-inspect
stone dead this Doctor Testicles [Tes ti clees].








Poetry by NotaDeadPoet
Read 463 times
Written on 2007-03-15 at 20:26

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