Mainly Mania, 33

(obsession doggerel)

Teen-Freak: ephebeomania

Because he was obsessed with teens,

He never thought of what it means.

So with his thumbs he tried to text,

To guess what fashion fad was next.

He dressed the way he saw teens dress—

Though he could never quite impress

The teens themselves. And so his cell

Lay silent. Soon, he wasn't well

And realized this wasn’t great,

Returned to being ninety-eight. 

Mainly Mania, 32

(obsession doggerel)

Shopper: oniomania

Obsessively, he loved to shop—

And, yes, until he had to drop

And hit the floor—a loud ker-PLOP!

He had no interest in a cure—

You'd offer one; he would demur

And claim, “My motives, yo, are pure!”

But soon he had no cash to spend,

And even friends refused to lend.

His cards were maxed—this had to end.

And later on, celestial grace

Returned the smile upon his face:

He’d wished he’d find a shopping place

In heaven. And he did. But smells

Were awful, residents were fell.

He realized: He’d gone to hell!

Mainly Mania, 31

(obsession doggerel)

Rhymester: metromania

Inside was so much doggerel

He feared he would one day explode.

Words were his banquet—he was full.

He’d hit the poet’s mother lode.

But “poet” is too generous

To use for him, an amateur.

To label someone giftless thus

Is to award a heartless boor

A Nobel Prize for Peace. But on

He scribbled, day and night, until

His words, at last, were finally gone.

He paused, then wondered if some pill

Could make the vanished words return.

He tried them all, found no relief,

Then realized he had to learn

To live alone in wordless grief.

But Love arrived one day in spring,

And words that had all flown away

Returned (yes, Love can do this thing),

And words again, both night and day,

Flew from his fingers, and his mate,

Who read his output every day,

Thought all of it was just first-rate.

And thus Love grew, in every way.

Mainly Mania, 30

(obsession doggerel)

Ice Cream: klazomania

Doyle probably had just misheard—

It all can be so difficult, The Word,

Confusing as an unknown bird.

And so when someone cried, “Ice cream!”

He thought that he had heard “I scream.”

To Doyle, it was his dearest dream—

The answer to receiving treats

Was simple: Nothing ever beats

A scream (among his greater feats).

Thereafter, Doyle would simply yell

For what he craved—and what the hell:

It seemed to work so very well.

Until those men arrived—in white—

And dragged him off into the night

And took him to a room so bright

Where he now lives—with pads on walls.

Where he hears voices in the halls.

And no one answers when he calls. 

Mainly Mania, 29

(obsession doggerel)

Workaholic: ergomania

Sue was a ergomaniac—

She left for work, did not come back.

Instead, she sat there at her desk,

And soon she looked a bit grotesque.

She had not bathed in oh so long;

She sat and hummed the same old song.

A crazy smile sat on her face,

As if to say, “There is no place

I'd rather be!” It ended soon.

One day, in early afternoon,

They heard a thud. They saw her head

There on the desk. And she was dead.

The coroner was quick with such:

“Sue just loved working far too much.”

They buried Sue, still at her desk.

I know: so very Kafkaesque. 

Mainly Mania, 28

(obsession doggerel)

Jumper: catapedamania

As soon as he could stand, he jumped—

And soon his body, bruised and lumped,

Bespoke his fondness for the leap.

Much later on, he bought a Jeep

And outdoor clothing—just the best—

For now he’d picked his final test:

That canyon Grand—so vast and broad,

But also deep. They’d all applaud

When he jumped to the canyon floor,

Then walked back up to do some more.

It didn’t quite work out like that:

He jumped and landed—loud ker-SPLAT!

Mainly Mania, 27

(obsession doggerel)

Holiday: noelmania [I made this up, I think]

He had a strong fixation that

Commenced in late November. He

Became a Christmas autocrat—

Expressed in Christmas lunacy.

His lights went up; the music played;

He dressed like dear old Santa Claus;

He bought a reindeer (named it Wade)

But soon was ostracized because

He was a little past the pale,

The fence that most of us observe.

And soon he found himself in jail—

A sentence now he had to serve.

They let him out on Christmas Eve.

He raced to check upon his elves.

And found he still had time to leave:

They’d done the needed work themselves.

He loaded up his fabled sleigh,

With Rudolph leading at the head,

And off he flew—he knew the way—

Delivering each doll and sled.

Mainly Mania, 26

(obsession doggerel)

Grinder: bruxomania

For reasons that we’ll never know

Duane just loved to grind his teeth.

Perhaps it eased his human woe?

Or offered him some weird relief?

But—sad to say—it wasn’t long

Before he realized his flub,

Before he knew that he’d been wrong:

He’d ground each one down to its nub.

So now it’s Jell-O for his meals—

Or yogurt if he’s in the mood.

He rarely talks of how he feels

While slurping but not chewing food.

Mainly Mania, 25

(obsession doggerel)

Wisdom: sophomania

His parents named him Socrates.

He hated it and begged them, “Please,

Dear Mom and Dad—it’s awful! Geez!”

But they refused. And later on

He found (all his resentment gone)

He was a king—no, not a pawn!

“Oh, I’m a genius!” he maintained.

His therapist had then explained

That he was not—and had him chained

And kept the poor guy tranquilized

Until, perhaps, he realized

His error. Then he stabilized!

And cried, “I’m just a normal man!

Oh, let me go, please, if you can.

I’ll settle for the name of Dan,

A name that fits a slower dude—

I hope you don’t think I am rude?”

Thus chains can change your attitude.

Mainly Mania, 24

(obsession doggerel)

Liar: pseudomania

I saw the boy, his pants on fire.

That shepherd boy will soon expire—

But not from flames (he put them out)

But from those wolves he lied about.

His lying fed his playful mood—

But soon he’ll serve as lupine food.

And so this boy will lie no more:

He’ll be inside a carnivore.

Mainly Mania, 23

(obsession doggerel)

Days Are Numbered: arithomania

“You seem obsessed with numbers,” said

The doctor with the chart.

“The numerals are everywhere—

Inside your head and heart.”

"I know," sniffed Boris, “and I'm glad

In ways that I can’t count.

I love that numbers multiply;

Forever they will mount.”

“Oh, they will stop,” the doctor sighed,

“Inside your heart and head.”

“When’s that?” asked Boris skeptically.

“When you,” he said, “are dead!”

“You’re wrong!” cried Boris, self-assured.

“Now listen well—attend!

The years will still accumulate

And Time will never end.”

“It ends for you the day you die—

A fact you can’t surmount.

The numbers really stop for you

When you aren’t there to count.”

Depressed, poor Boris headed home

Inside a sort of daze.

He was unhappy—angry, too.

Oh, let me count the ways!

Mainly Mania, 22

(obsession doggerel)

Mealtime: deipnomania

He loved he breakfast, loved his lunch—

He really loved his meals a bunch.

He loved his supper, midnight snacks.

But then … here came his heart attacks.

He’d added weight—he wasn’t well—

’Twas Gluttony sent him to Hell.

He asked old Satan, “What’s to eat?”

“Oh, we have lots of roasted feet!”

That sounded good, so down he sat,

And eating feet, he kept his fat. 

Mainly Mania, 21

(obsession doggerel)

Beddie-Bye: clinomania

He spent so many hours in bed

That folks suspected he was dead.

But no! He just had in his head

A love for lying ’twixt the sheets—

For him, among life's greatest treats,

Right near the top with sex and sweets.

But sex was complicated stuff—

And sweets? Well, he had had enough.

So he would lie there, in the buff,

Until at last he could decide

If he preferred his back or side.

But then one gloomy day he died.

His will required that in the grave

His bed must go. And so they gave

Him his desire: He’d had them save

His final bed beneath the ground—

With pillows (fluffed), a blanket ’round

His body—such a cozy mound

To lie beneath while you’re below.

And if you really want to know,

He’s happy that he’s resting so!

Mainly Mania, 20

(obsession doggerel)

Reflections: catopromania

With mirrors hanging everywhere—

With time galore to stare and stare—

Narcissus and the Evil Queen,

The weirdest couple ever seen,

Did not have kids— no, not a hex.

They simply had no time for sex.

They loved their faces—quite enough.

No need for any … funny stuff. 

Mainly Mania, 19

(obsession doggerel)

Deep Fears: bathymania

Poseidon? Bathymania!?

Oh, don’t be such a creep!

Of course the ocean God is fond

Of all things dark and deep!

Would you say Noah Webster was

Too mad about the word?

To say such things is ludicrous,

Embarrassing, absurd.

Besides, our own obsessions—from

The weird to weirder, too—

Make absolutely perfect sense

To us, if not to you. 

Mainly Mania, 18

(obsession doggerel)

Chewy: phaneromania (biting nails)

While mad for cats, she buys a gross.

While mad for boats, she sails and sails.

While mad for drugs, she takes a dose.

But best of all? She chews her nails.

She chews them down, right to the quick,

In public—private—anywhere.

Her chewing makes her family sick,

But she keeps chewing—doesn’t care.

But then she grows far too obsessed—

And chews all night and chews all day.

She gives herself no time for rest

And soon she'll chew herself away.

Mainly Mania, 17

(obsession doggerel)

Web of Wonder: arachnomania

The spiders there in Middle-Earth

Suggest arachnomania,

Perhaps, was present at the birth

Of J. R. R. Tolkien—

Of fantasy, the reigning dean.

They were of such colossal size

(Remember Shelob? Oh, so huge!)

Well, she came from the mind and eyes

Of J. R. R. Tolkien—

Of fantasy, the reigning dean.

Miss Muffet—could that lass have been

An ancestor? Here’s what I mean:

Did she bequeath from way back then

That spider thing of old Tolkien?

(Of fantasy, the reigning dean.)

Mainly Mania, 16

(obsession doggerel)

James’ Paradox: xenomania

So Bond (James Bond)—an agent for

Her Majesty (of course)—

Adored his foreign travel, be it

French or Swiss or Norse.

He said he loved dear England most—

But could this claim be true?

He was abroad so frequently

That no one had a clue. 

Was he a loyal Englishman

With xenomania?

Or what about an an agent for,
Perhaps, Albania?!

Mainly Mania, 15

(obsession doggerel)

Lizzie’s Last Lament: toxicomania

“You poison people!” Lizzie cried.

“It’s slow and boring—those are facts!

I wonder: Have you ever tried

A few quick swings, a sturdy axe?”

Lucrezia just thought a bit,

Her anger hot, right at the brink.

“Well, Lizzie, hmmm … Why don’t we sit?

And just for fun, how ’bout a drink?”

*Lizzie Borden

*Lucrezia Borgia

Mainly Mania, 14

(obsession doggerel)

Ferdinand’s Horns: satyromania

“Yo, Ferdinand, you seem to be

A little horny, dude.

Is there a woman on the earth

Whom you would, like, exclude?”

“Well, maybe that Morticia girl—

From Transylvania?

But maybe not. I suffer from

Satyromania.”

Mainly Mania,13

(obsession doggerel)

Pick, Pick, Pick: rhinotillexomania

He picked his nose from dawn to dark.

He picked it in the city park,

Disgusting every dove and lark.

He picked all throughout his life.

He sometimes used a pocketknife—

No wonder that he had no wife!

Before he died, he thought a lot

About a cemetery plot—

And so he picked a decent spot.

But no one came to visit (sigh)

To see the spot where he did lie.

A picture that makes grown men cry.

Our story ends--and so it goes:

In life we suffer many blows—

Especially if we pick the nose!

Mainly Mania, 12

(obsession doggerel)

Bucks (and Ducks?) Up: plutomania

Old Scrooge McDuck loved money, so

He kept it all in massive piles,

The sight of which brought greedy smiles.

Yes, Scrooge could roll in lots of dough.

And Ebenezer Scrooge—yes, he

Of Charles Dickens’ lasting fame—

Gave to the greedy his harsh name,

A kind of immortality.

And Dyer? Well, he has lots of dough—

But just the kind for baking bread.

Yes, sourdough keeps family fed—

It is his favorite, don’t you know?

He doesn’t drive a Cadillac—

But they have bread to share and eat.

He makes a mess (he’s not too neat),

This baking plutomaniac!

Mainly Mania, 11

(obsession doggerel)

Dead On: necromania

The Ghouls were really kind of odd—

Not just a normal family.

They hated salmon, steak, and cod.

Instead they favored what was free—

Like girls and boys and women, men—

Whomever they found lying ’round.

And what they ate? A mortal sin.

Their food was dead—and under ground.

The graveyard was their grocery store—

And also their beloved café.

They ate there every night—such gore!

A very special grim buffet.

There are few families like the Ghouls—

They live in ghoulish little packs.

Oh, do not think the Ghouls are fools—

Instead, they’re necromaniacs. 

Mainly Mania, 10

(obsession doggerel)

One Thing … monomania

Yes, Ahab had it—to the max—

All due to Moby-Dick’s attacks.

And so did Stanley—he’s the one

Who searched for Dr. Livingstone.

And Custer was not really through

Until he met some swarms of Sioux.

And then there was poor Elmer Fudd,

Whose hunt for Bugs was such a dud.

And I loved cookies chocolate-chipped—

Which took me quickly to my crypt.

The message here (or so I guess)—

It’s not too good when you obsess. 

Mainly Mania, 9

(obsession doggerel)

Words, Words, Words: logomania

He had words stitched into his shirt—

And tattooed all across his back.

He scratched words in the very dirt—

Before he had his heart attack.

His favorite soup was alphabet,

And Scrabble his beloved game.

He owned the OED (a set)—

To memorize it was his aim.

But then there was that heart attack,

And words just failed him after that.

His mood declined from blue to black,

And he became a total prat.

But one day a librarian—

Oh, you know how this story ends:

Yes, they got married, had pure fun

With frequent games of Words with Friends. 

Mainly Mania, 8

(obsession doggerel)

Ring Around the Burglar: kleptomania

We all love Bilbo—got the ring.

Yes, he could steal most anything,

But he was gifted with the bling.

We shouldn't give him too much flack—

For Bilbo went there (there and back)—

But such a kleptomaniac!

But Smaug was not at first impressed—

A Fellowship! A hopeless quest!

But then an arrow in his chest

Knocked Smaug down from the fiery sky

Into the lake (they watched him die)—

Oh, Bilbo Baggins! What a guy!

Mainly Mania, 7

(obsession doggerel)

Writer and Writer: graphomania

He found a pencil in his crib,

He picked it up, commenced to scrib-

(ble).

He soon moved on to pens and “crans”—

Oh, so much writing filled his plans!

 Computers, next, were on his list—

And when they failed, he got so pissed

He threw his laptops at the wall.

That’s too bright—no, not at all.

He died with pencil in his hand.

The floods of writing he had planned

Would stay unwritten throughout time

While he transmuted into slime.

(I know. I know. A little grim.

But so it did transpire with him.) 

Mainly Mania, 6

Selfie: egomania

Jim bought himself a selfie stick

And learned to use it (he was quick),

But soon his Facebook friends were sick

Of seeing of all the pics of him,

So they unfriended our poor Jim,

And things were looking pretty grim.

A suicide? Perhaps with knife?

But then a girl came in his life,

And soon they married—man and wife.

And then Jim learned another trick—

And thought that he was really slick.

He bought a longer selfie stick.

And soon his wife grew awfully tired—

Her love for him just soon expired.

She left him—not what Jim desired.

And now Jim’s left with only Jim.

But Jim does not grow tired of him.

In fact, he wrote a lengthy hymn

That celebrated who he was,

And now he's really thrilled because

Jim’s always thrilled with what Jim does. 

Mainly Mania, 5

(obsession doggerel)

Boozer: dipsomania

She married him without a hitch—

Our Jill now happy with her Jack.

But he got drunk and called her “Bitch!”

Our Jack—a dipsomaniac.

She took it for a week or two—

But couldn’t stand him, crude and rude,

And so she moved to Waterloo,

Where she, astute, divorced the dude.