Brain Spiders

The last few days when people come to help me
the spiders pour out from my brain and crawl on them.

I try to stop the spiders with clenched teeth,
or with hands over my ears or eyes.
As their sickening alternatives present themselves
my own reasonable options fall below.

Fuck, it screams, shit. Smash it all and let them burn.
Another part wants silence (but it will never get silence).
The third part…
The third part is far too afraid of silence to ever let that happen.

It plays itself out as … Continue reading

PTSD, a Poem

My devil is a sick and profane companion.

When he wrings out the cloth of my mind
and finds my frequent failures
and pathetic attempts —
on the days my devil is Depression, he tells me
to stop struggling. Relax.

It’s peaceful only by comparison to other days.

Because my devil is not Depression every day.

On the days my devil is Fear, Panic, Anxiety
he runs to and fro,
wildly waving his hands
with my fears and future held,
one in each hand.

He menaces me with them
like a … Continue reading

Prefrontal Reverberations: Part Deux

It’s been a long time since I’ve done one of these, but now feels like the right time.

Okay, so once again I will consult the oracle and see what our topic is for today.

The suspense is terrible. I hope it will last.


Hmm… well I have a little haiku about recursion:

What means GNU?
“GNU is Not Unix.”
The name never ends.

It’s a little dry, so let me try something sandier:

Recursion goes on
Like Ron Jeremy sucking
Having lost a rib.

Maybe too filled with imagery.. hmm, how about … Continue reading

BoD IV: The Last Voyage of the Donnie Marie

I hope someday to make a recording of this one, but I have very little skill with music-making

Just imagine a guitar plunking out a folksy tune while you “sing-speak” the words like Bob Dylan. Then, every so often, grab a friend and interrupt the song for some random commentary and you’ll have a regular Talking Blues classic!

The Last Voyage of the Donnie Marie

Now way down south Mississippi Way
There’s a little old tugboat people say
And she had a purdy name: “The Donnie Marie”

Her captain was Desmond Taylor Chunkee
The first mate: Kiki, … Continue reading


For your reading amusement, I present two original limericks:

There once was a young man named Ben
Who had himself only one hen
He tried to breed more
But he found himself sore
Because hens, it seems, can’t breed with men

An eager New Yorker named Beth
Cooked herself up a big batch of meth
She got proper fucked
For her recipe sucked
And exploded, resulting in death

I was originally gonna do another one but I couldn’t make it work. It was about a man banging a golden retriever.

But I … Continue reading