Phunny Pharm
Kakie Mashburn
Wergle Flomp Humor Poetry Contest 2005 (view all the winners)
Second Prize, Poetry
Wading in the cesspool of self-loathing,
Despondent, suicidal, and dejected,
Loath to bathe or change from last week's clothing —
No monument to hygiene here erected.
Limp along, you lame synaptic firings,
This mind confused, confounded, and forsaken —
Victim to unseen and faulty wirings,
Seratonin mostly reuptaken.
And yet there is some faint, ephemeral hope
When the mind seems bound for mutiny.
To seek out messianic psychodope,
Merck tome scanned with avid scrutiny.
Elavil and Tofranil are old school,
That family of tricyclics tried and true,
Your mouth as dry as desiccated wool
And only once a fortnight may you poo.
SSRI's are newer, mod, and hip —
Prozac, Celexa, Zoloft, Lexapro,
And Paxil give you quite a cheery trip
(Reality and dream may meld some, though).
Increasingly desired they are by most,
Allegedly with milder side effects —
It's tougher on these meds to overdose
Or feel any vague sensation during sex.
And in a pharmily unto itself,
Wellbutrin keeps you up for nights on end —
Is this bupropion or crystal meth?
Methamphetamines are quite the trend.
To treat those wacky spin-offs of depression —
I.e., for those who suffer from attacks
Of panic, sleeplessness, or mild aggression
God created something called Xanax.
Beyond this, there's a wide variety
Of other swell benzodiazepines
To conquer most any anxiety —
Valium, Ativan, and Tranxilene.
Or if you're more the type who waxes manic,
A hardcore seesaw swinger and bipolar,
Lithium might make you less Satanic
And reactivate your magic mood controller.
Then of course there are MAOI's —
Death to those who mix with naught but water?
What brainiac this concept could devise,
So like unbalanced lambs led to the slaughter?
And let us not exclude antipsychotics —
When all else fails, these are the last resort.
These are not for the faint-hearted neurotics
Who rarely talk to walls or kill for sport.
Haldol, Thorazine, and Clozaril
Are most effective if you're more schizoid,
Though loss of self and purpose, soul and will
Might turn your life to vegetative void.
So n'er despair — prescription pads are plenty
And chemical adjustment no transgression,
Co-pays rarely more than ten or twenty,
And doctors less inclined to use discretion.
Do not endure delusions, fears, funks, dreads,
Nor accept your psyche's abdication.
Just pony up and score yourself some meds,
And book a psychotropical vacation.
