"anaesthetised" poems
Ye won't comprehend what I mean
Unless acquire the eyes to have seen
Emotions by their true image
Do you know what I mean?
Once harnessed power to play with emotions
Impossible seems revival, work no potions
When crawl back half alive
Anaesthetised images, walking drunk motions
That deep sorrow, sadness and pain
The efforts and struggles all in vain
Isn't what you cry for and say?
Ask thyself,
Who drove you into that lane
Pitch dark corners of thoughts arouse the feel
Four stanzas including this one's just half meal
Clouds of this kind circle forever
Pressing the haunting words, in time I'll heal
--------
<***>
Presence of happiness none sees, a pity
As we surmise, there does exist a Deity
For a reason, all this emerged
In everything, there might be something pretty
<*>
Once gripped that strange feel in the prayers
Shall form over body, invisible protective layers
Addition in tons, not kilos
Of sagacity, on each climb of the stairs
<>
Life devoid of expectations isn't the option
The mindset's worthy enough for adoption
Great expectations pave dirtiest of roads
Too precious to be displayed up for auction
<**>
On Him can we lean and must firmly believe
Direct contact's the medicine for mind's relief
Affordable yet unaffordable jewels await
For the closest beings in His regard to receive
F.A teeri
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 2:32 PM UTC
Calm and cosy
Curled up in my cotton tomb,
Transported back to the womb,
Where I dreamt endlessly.
There I smelt my life
Imminent, timid,
But ****** and vivid;
Here it is different
And deadly.
My life reeks of decay
As it burns away;
I taste the ash of my lungs,
Anaesthetised, desensitized,
Stupefied and condemned.
Scorched by conflagration,
Numbed by smoke,
But I do not choke
Just sleep
And keep on dreaming.
My cotton tomb ablaze,
A-kindle and consuming,
Collapses while still fuming,
Swallows me as I slumber
Or so I thought.
My maid she came a-wandering,
A-wondering,
And saw me here a-slumbering
In my cotton tomb of fire.
I felt her drown my death,
Extinguish Hell,
Restore my breath,
And I awoke in a fit of passion,
‘Deuce take me, what has happened?’
The timid creature,
Like newborn life,
Stood trembling, as well as I,
But told the tale
From start to end.
I implored of her
To not say a word;
The events of which have occurred
Are our secret –
Instead I enclosed her in my arms
As rapture seized me in its jaws,
Dragged me back from Death’s door
And threw me at her feet.
I praised her long
My preserver, my protection,
Then let her shivering form go
In the wake of my affection.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 3:39 PM UTC
Expatriated.... silence swallows whole,
enunciated expression:
Fists pummel at an empty sky.
A voiceless scream tears anaesthetised night.
Who needs gravitas,
what piety awards accolades;
why strike a solemn clarion
where dignity and virtue fail to roam,
when last breathe approaches?
How can we repatriate orphan, edulcerate elocution?
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 4:36 AM UTC
Sugar
A thousand colours combine
in a war, a rage against darkness
and nothingness, the evils and goods of this anaesthetised numbness
residing within me,
blinding with the promise of the blank canvas
the porcelain wrist before the cancer takes hold.
For that is what I am, a Cancer.
A breath of hot air against your innocent flesh,
suffocating, intoxicating.
You yearn for me in all I am
from the moment dark hands drag me from life
til your lips close around my scent,
an envelope of love letters
you never sent.
I am your addiction
(let me be the sugar within you)
your infatuation
(stir me into your tea)
your drug.
Let me in.
Let me in
and I will **** you from the inside out,
I will ignite your eyes with flames
and the world will marvel at your beauty,
like acid at the back of your throat
tears burning
like fireflies
like embers dancing
none but me will see the ashes fall inside you.
A black snow,
drifting slowly down inside you
A black snow,
nothingness has won; the war is over
as your speech becomes slurred
A black snow,
come
to make me grey
as I watch your mind unravel
like the wire of an old cassette tape
and wind around my neck.
You thought it made sense,
this story.
Like the words had an order
Like your footsteps had an order
as you danced across the ballroom of my flesh.
one two three
two two three
engraving your history
into my skin.
As though it cannot be undone,
Like the letters cannot unwrite themselves
Like you cannot find yourself
in a snare of black cassette wire
screaming
as it winds itself around the tree trunks and branches that scatter your mind;
piecing me back together.
Like the letters cannot unwrite themselves
the snow cannot fall upwards
the ashes cannot fall upwards
Like you cannot find yourself lost in the forest of this story you found yourself in
and retake
retake
your very last breath.
You thought it made sense,
this story
J.S.
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 8:29 AM UTC
She fell into an eternal slumber,
Her beloved’s path lead away from her.
Anaesthetised, she dreamed only of him,
The way his heavenly scent seemed to wrap around her,
The feeling of his teeth sinking into her soft flesh.
With no reason to awaken she dreamed on..
A million miles away from her he stares at the sky,
Wondering if there is a way to align the stars.
Trying desperately to hold on to all the pieces of his world,
His thoughts drift to his secret lover, she was his sanctuary,
He longed to run his hands through her long blond hair,
To drown once again in her hazel eyes so full of secrets..
Their future together is written in tears and blood,
For their love to be realized, many must fall.
Their devotion for each other turned into a war,
On this ****** path of theirs,
Sacrifices are inevitable.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 12:44 AM UTC
Turning nocturnal
Eternally slipping deeper
Into sleepless abyss
Darkness shrouds
Thoughts drowning
Crowding internal
Futile attempts
My vile mind can't find peace
Awake but paralysed
Open eyes
But anaesthetised
Restraining
Taming fury that abides
Inside
Cold to the core
Unsure
What it's all for
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 3:23 AM UTC
I lie in the half light, shadow of dusk approaching.
Beside me lie the empty boxes of every prescribed drug I could find.
Confetti of blister packs surrounds me.
Too late now.. It's done!
The telephone lies within my drowsy reach.
Three little numbers.... I picture them in my head... Those three 9's that could still change the outcome .....
My index finger twitches briefly.. I see it.. Then it returns to stillness.
I feel a little sedated now....ever so slightly detached and I think to myself that's a good thing ..
To drift away on a sea of peace and tranquillity,
I hear the most haunting melody.. Real or imagined I can't tell......then I smile to myself.
As if my exit from this world would be accompanied by beautiful music!
Alas I shall slip from this world unnoticed.. Without so much as birdsong.
I shall leave behind so little to aid remembrance ..: no real evidence that I was ever here ,
A tinge of sadness in my drug soaked mind....
Not completely anaesthetised yet..still pain there in my heart.
I turn my head.. The telephone eyeballs me...
My finger twitches a second time .
I feel strange now.. Floaty and ethereal ,
The pain has nearly gone away.
I roll clumsily towards the telephone,
It seems to be moving away from me .. The bed is enormous,
I know there's not much time ...
I stare stupidly at the receiver.
Three little numbers....then nothing.
Nothing for quite a long while,
Then the smell of hospitals assuages my nostrils,
Wearing a crisp white sheet.. Not a shroud..
I muse if my failure to die was a weakness or a strength?
To leave or face a nothingness world...
Perhaps there is no glory in either choice,
Each path as empty and desolate as the other....
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 6:09 AM UTC