#fluorescent - Hello Poetry

"I've seen medicine that breathes life into stone" - Shakespeare A wet-eyed med-student was roaming the hall earlier. She’d lost her mind around the half-hour mark of an oral assessment - whether from the questioning or the expression on the examiner’s face - it happens. It’s designed to happen. We must handle pressure. On break, she’s was an absolute squirmfest of emotion - trying to look part of the linoleum and not meet anyone’s gaze. She’ll be ok, until the next professor, having a bad day, picks her apart for sport. But tears dry fast under fluorescent lighting. I gave her a smile that tried to say ‘Come on, it was just a bad moment.’ She’ll probably go home and watch an episode of ‘the Pit’ to remind herself why she signed up for this masochism and maybe she’ll post about it with hashtags like #KillMeNow and #INailedThatRespiratoryQuestion. By Monday the feels will have passed like bad weather and she’ll paste on a smile. Future doctors aren’t quitters. Later, she’ll laugh about it with the kind of laugh that means it’s not funny yet, and this weekend she might weaponize her trauma at some rude guy in a bar - it happens. . . A song for this: This Is How We Do It by Montell Jordan Hurricane Waters by Citizen Cope

0

Apr 18

Apr 18, 2026 at 1:09 AM UTC

anaisvionet

wet-eyed

"I've seen medicine that breathes life into stone" - Shakespeare A wet-eyed med-student was roaming the hall earlier. She’d lost her mind around the half-hour mark of an oral assessment - whether from the questioning or the expression on the examiner’s face - it happens. It’s designed to happen. We must handle pressure. On break, she’s was an absolute squirmfest of emotion - trying to look part of the linoleum and not meet anyone’s gaze. She’ll be ok, until the next professor, having a bad day, picks her apart for sport. But tears dry fast under fluorescent lighting. I gave her a smile that tried to say ‘Come on, it was just a bad moment.’ She’ll probably go home and watch an episode of ‘the Pit’ to remind herself why she signed up for this masochism and maybe she’ll post about it with hashtags like #KillMeNow and #INailedThatRespiratoryQuestion. By Monday the feels will have passed like bad weather and she’ll paste on a smile. Future doctors aren’t quitters. Later, she’ll laugh about it with the kind of laugh that means it’s not funny yet, and this weekend she might weaponize her trauma at some rude guy in a bar - it happens. . . A song for this: This Is How We Do It by Montell Jordan Hurricane Waters by Citizen Cope

16

Tale to tell Three piggies Wearing a suicide, like a feat of hell And the rage of a wolf, with a prayer between liberty's A spidery breeze... Aled to allure, the *** of repose Come curious, my sincerity is an avid squeeze... Compare me to silence, a need confirming those Days end, in a savoring grasp With the eyes of time, to these we tell a different story Places of wishing hours, with the grace to live at last With the flesh of light, comes a drama let, never sorry... The pride, the copious sorts When the world has a patience for your gifts Subtle is the crave of possibility, to try, in short The eyes of heaven have lent us, and an eye lifts... A world of voices and presiding choices... That collects itself, to a fury of poise, live lover The awakening hunger we make, is a now's more In the belly of worth, we have seen a creation overt... Pretty as a picture, pity in a turn of cheek? That has said the adding wink, of a salty memory That has me by a quiet song, merit in the place of world's seek Here is your purpose, under the very light's we know, are your story

0

Jul 20, 2025

Jul 20, 2025 at 3:37 PM UTC

david-hilburn

The Benevolency: Demonic Alka Seltzers

Tale to tell Three piggies Wearing a suicide, like a feat of hell And the rage of a wolf, with a prayer between liberty's A spidery breeze... Aled to allure, the *** of repose Come curious, my sincerity is an avid squeeze... Compare me to silence, a need confirming those Days end, in a savoring grasp With the eyes of time, to these we tell a different story Places of wishing hours, with the grace to live at last With the flesh of light, comes a drama let, never sorry... The pride, the copious sorts When the world has a patience for your gifts Subtle is the crave of possibility, to try, in short The eyes of heaven have lent us, and an eye lifts... A world of voices and presiding choices... That collects itself, to a fury of poise, live lover The awakening hunger we make, is a now's more In the belly of worth, we have seen a creation overt... Pretty as a picture, pity in a turn of cheek? That has said the adding wink, of a salty memory That has me by a quiet song, merit in the place of world's seek Here is your purpose, under the very light's we know, are your story

24

Neon’s radioactive glow in a window, offers the cheap promise of pleasure. Like a hypnotic, fluorescent serpent, it flashes, blinks and winks - “Welcome” It fairly slithers on rain-slicked boulevards, warms like moonlight on cold unfriendly nights, and signals cool, ready fun in the summertime. We dress our vices in silky, pastel colors, like the gamblers choices of Disney flavored whiskies. It’s the soft, velvet glove that hides brass knuckles, oh, you’ll feel those bruises in the morning. The world’s a dark alleyway with an electric blush, whose color flatters the lonely, desperate, and makes sin look like something you could fall for. Neon is perfume for the optical senses. In that light, everything seems possible. Isn’t that girl smiling at you? You see, beauty is easier to trust than the truth. Neon imperviously reflects off regrets, and glitters brightest on broken dreams. Of course daylight is harsh, but honest. Didn’t we come in here to escape it? . . Songs for this: The Ballad of Mac the Knife by Sting & Dominic Muldowney Any Old Thing by Swing Republic

0

May 15, 2025

May 15, 2025 at 10:11 PM UTC

anaisvionet

beckoning

Neon’s radioactive glow in a window, offers the cheap promise of pleasure. Like a hypnotic, fluorescent serpent, it flashes, blinks and winks - “Welcome” It fairly slithers on rain-slicked boulevards, warms like moonlight on cold unfriendly nights, and signals cool, ready fun in the summertime. We dress our vices in silky, pastel colors, like the gamblers choices of Disney flavored whiskies. It’s the soft, velvet glove that hides brass knuckles, oh, you’ll feel those bruises in the morning. The world’s a dark alleyway with an electric blush, whose color flatters the lonely, desperate, and makes sin look like something you could fall for. Neon is perfume for the optical senses. In that light, everything seems possible. Isn’t that girl smiling at you? You see, beauty is easier to trust than the truth. Neon imperviously reflects off regrets, and glitters brightest on broken dreams. Of course daylight is harsh, but honest. Didn’t we come in here to escape it? . . Songs for this: The Ballad of Mac the Knife by Sting & Dominic Muldowney Any Old Thing by Swing Republic

27

The rocks don't stop you, And neither does your prey's sharp teeth. Gold, silver, grey and blue, Darting into salty view, What a lovely shade and hue, I want to have you for my own, And yet, Here you are, Away from the net, Dart, dart, darting away, Wonder of your fluorescent skin, Smoother than the smallest pin, A jokers smile is plastered for show, Swim, swim, swim away.

0

Jun 16, 2015

Jun 16, 2015 at 1:31 PM UTC

Rockie

Dart

The rocks don't stop you, And neither does your prey's sharp teeth. Gold, silver, grey and blue, Darting into salty view, What a lovely shade and hue, I want to have you for my own, And yet, Here you are, Away from the net, Dart, dart, darting away, Wonder of your fluorescent skin, Smoother than the smallest pin, A jokers smile is plastered for show, Swim, swim, swim away.

14

Our fingers knotted and crossed locked in a finger hug hand hold on the roof in the moonlight. Always in the moonlight. And you said how glad you were to be away from them - they would laugh if they saw. Stupid immature idiots. I guess later you changed your mind, because your long fingers reached for mine in a big room, under the glare of flourescent bulbs Everyone saw, but no one laughed at us.

0

May 20, 2014

May 20, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC

annabel-lee-95

summer 2011

Our fingers knotted and crossed locked in a finger hug hand hold on the roof in the moonlight. Always in the moonlight. And you said how glad you were to be away from them - they would laugh if they saw. Stupid immature idiots. I guess later you changed your mind, because your long fingers reached for mine in a big room, under the glare of flourescent bulbs Everyone saw, but no one laughed at us.

21