Poem of the Week: The Brain Drain Limerick Chain

The Brain Drain Limerick Chain
August 4, 2014

Have you ever felt you’re getting dumber
As though your brain was growing number,
Just rotting away
In your head day by day?
Ain’t such a sensation a bummer?

It’s like one day, you were smart,
The you suffer a massive brain fart
That hits you like no other—
So much, you can’t recover,
And such is only the start.

Next thing you know, things you once knew
Suddenly become foreign to you,
And your drained knowledge pool
Colors you as a fool
In everything you say and do.

Your grammar’s all wrecked to crap:
No punctuation, all initial caps,
Misspelled words a-bunch—
Some as simple as “lunch,”
And sentences forced together and slapped.

Your math is a joke, in addition,
Where even simple addition
Becomes a big chore
As well as a bore
And is always in need of revision.

Even reading takes hours on end—
More than you would ever spend,
No matter the book.
Really, just one look
Will make your poor mind twist and bend

‘Til it’s naught but a cerebral knot,
And you’ve lost all sense of the plot
Of the tale you’re being told,
And you’re left feeling old
And senile from your mental clot.

What can you do, then, when you’re numb
In the head and feel so dang dumb?
What tasks can you take?
What moves can you make
To send your dazedness on the run?

Do you just need a little nap
To help you escape your trap,
Or are you so ill
That you take a pill,
Despite drugs’ deserved bad rap?

Do you switch your attention elsewhere
Until you’re finally “all there”
And return to taking on
The task you were on,
Now that you’re finally prepared?

Do you simply give up and give in
And let your mental glitch win,
Then wallow in defeat
And pity so sweet
All ‘cause of this bind you’re in?

Or do you keep trudging along,
Trying to keep your morale strong
In spite of dull senses
And crippled defenses
That might help your dullness along?

Such is the question I wonder
When slowed wits hit me like thunder
During a summer storm,
Making my mind worn
As my brain cells get torn asunder.

Worse yet is my growing fear
That the condition I speak of here
May have no real cure,
Leaving my brain impure
And getting worse year after year.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s