DSM-5

~ qbit 
I don't want anesthesia for breakfast again,
no pouring naptha on my cheerios, or ether 
in an oatmeal feed bag over my nose and mouth.

(However nasotracheal intubation of coffee
is indicated per DSM-5, 315.30 (F80.89) –
Pragmatic Communication Disorder, e.g. Poetry1)

Better your feral kissing stays stitched
across my skull, sutures of the cranial plates
fused into a flight of starlings, like radios

tuned to the shillelagh station – Swing, somewhere
between Cab Calloway and a blackthorn club
arcing towards my head.

Awareness.
Concussion.
Only you.

1Diagnostic Features:

“Social (pragmatic) communication disorder is characterized by a primary difficulty with pragmatics, or the social use of language and communication, as manifested by deficits in understanding and following social rules of verbal and nonverbal communication in naturalistic contexts, changing language according to the needs of the listener or situation, and following rules for conversations and storytelling. The deficits in social communication result in functional limitations in effective communication, social participation, development of social relationships, academic achievement, or occupational performance. The deficits are not better explained by low abilities in the domains of structural language or cognitive ability.”  (From DSM-5, pg. 48)

Shay’s Word Garden

22 thoughts on “DSM-5”

  5. Oh I see, Mister Snobby-wobby, oatmeal nosebags aren’t good enough for you. I’ll give mine up when you pry it from my cold dead beak!

    This is the cleverest, funniest thing you’ve ever done, qbit. It had me rolling. Life-giving coffee is the only engine of survival as Leonard Cohen once said. I think he said that. Something like that anyway. And Cab-Calloway/archaic weaponry music is all I listen to. This is a story ’bout Minnie the Moocher…

    Thanks for writing this priceless romp for my list!!!

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  6. Of course I laughed. But I also really like that feral kissing and the sutures it requires.This world is turning out disorders faster than it is babies and plagues, but a poem like this goes a long way to reconcile me to refusing anesthesia. Really good stuff, qbit.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  10. “I don’t want anesthesia for breakfast again,
    no pouring naptha on my cheerios, or ether
    in an oatmeal feed bag over my nose and mouth.”

    what about a brown paper bag-full of home depot’s finest premium paint thinner? still not good enough for you? =)

    “Better your feral kissing stays stitched
    across my skull, sutures of the cranial plates
    fused into a flight of starlings, like radios”

    that stanza has the feel of a love poem, and if so, it’s the strangest love poem i’ve read, which make it one of the best love poems i’ve read. this is very clever and very funny, enjoyed very much

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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