with every passing day
my insanity blossoms
like pink carnations
in a garden of abnormalities
for her inspirations are delusions
that cling to my mind
like a crazy apparition
in my forsaken memory
her words became my asylum
in the circus of this mind
and she the ringmaster
that caused my manic instability
oh, how the doctors fail to see
my muse clasps
unforgettable words
inside my head
with her Velcro poetry



Wearing his white lab coat, Sam made his usual rounds. Peeking into the first room, he sighed. “Simon, how many times have I told you we don’t finger paint with feces?”

Covered in human waste, heavy set Simon looked up from his place on the floor. Adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose, he left a foul chocolate trail. “Dr. Barker, it stinks in here.”

Resisting the urge to say no shit, Sam Barker groaned, “These kooks will drive me crazy.”

Where were the attendants when you needed them?  Controlling his frustrations, he continued down the hallway.

Years slaving in this morose dead end asylum? Why didn’t he listen to his mother? He could have been a dentist.

“Mrs. Bradford, what have I told you about chewing your toe nails?”

Looking up, the old fossil of a woman with layers of old make-up adjusted a raggedy scarf she believe to be a mink stole. “A dignified lady will never dine at the finest cuisine with nasty toe nails.”

Before Sam could respond he noticed Mad Max tapping his forehead against a wall.

“Hey, Max. More headaches?”

“Doc, it’s killing me.”

Sam grabbed him by the shoulders and slowly turned him around until Max leaned against the wall. “How is that?”

Max continued his nervous nod. “You are the miracle man.”

A nurse interrupted. “Sam.”

“My name is Dr. Barker?” Irritated, Sam glared at her and the two large attendants behind her. “And you two need to clean up Simon.”

Petite nurse cleared her throat. “It’s medication time.”

“Make sure you give Simon an extra dose.”

She held out a paper cup.

Looking at the cup, Sam twitched. “Doctors don’t take medication.”

Before anyone could move, Sam raced frantically down the hall yelling, “I am a doctor not a patient. I am a doctor not a patient.”

My Asylum


My Asylum

With every passing day
sweet delusions of you
stroke my fragile psyche
you make me so paranoid
the men in white jackets
are always coming for me

Doc suggested a lobotomy
since hypnosis will never
successfully separate us two
Your loving drives me crazy
I converse with the strange
voices in my head about you

You have me crossing lines
beyond the edge of madness
as your kisses leave me numb
Doctors say I’m a case study
they refuse to acknowledge
your sweet love is my asylum.


Photo taken from Google Images.