"anesthetics" poems
so greed took mankind
with genetics
decomposed from the inside
a sick thought, I thoughts.
... inhale your doom, I thought. change your ways, you ought, I thought.
choke the carcinoma cells.
knee swells, Capricorn.
better go later for assurance of;
Death.
talk to those doctors;feed your own lies,
only to discover
them being drunk off of disguise.
sick conditioned,
The words definition, domestication
of everything
Everything
gratitude gratitude to Pavlov, whose name capitalizes;
a way of nature
creature creator, part of the world's annihilator.
cousin to eugenics we have cosmetics, anesthetics for the mind.
a nice golden walkway for mankind.
inevitably so, We herd along, too dumb to fight what we refuse to know.
Ignorance, etiquette, silence; rhyme.
herbal healing humans; survive.
© 2015 Kate Volk
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 3:07 AM UTC
When Van Gogh cut off his ear
It was for reassurance that the rest of him could disappear
That illusion of ownership that nerves create
Should have faded with each baby tooth I lost
It didn't though, contrariwise I worried I would extend
Into roads or trees and then feel the tire's friction or the elm's blight
Empathy is a ***** of its own
I pray I never wake up with a Siamese twin
I'd have to care, lest we lapse into mutual sadomasochism
That hilarious territory of bored lovers
The Thalidomide kids might get a kick
out of feeling new arms attached to other people
but that's the exception that proves the rule
After the Vietnam war, some men believed Agent Orange
Had followed them home, alive in newly discovered nerves
Now what odd god must be behind that ****
Mengele often awoke from dreams sweating and sure
That his patients would learn a trick to generate biological anesthetics
He needed the feedback of sound to really understand the human body
“Prayer or pleading” he used to say with a wink to his bartender after work
Sometimes I worry that my nervous system
Might have a Mengelian agenda of its own
That I am woven into a potential torture chamber seems clear
but then I remember that I can always pull the tooth or cut off the ear
Aug 10, 2012
Aug 10, 2012 at 3:48 AM UTC
when i was little,
i cried because i wanted It.
It being the crisp sound of fulfillment
that keeps the black hole in the middle of my body quite.
i wanted, i needed It.
sometimes the black hole
would turn red as lava
and it would feel like a volcano
wanting to erupt
but the thing is,
it doesn't have anything to force out.
and i do not like the feeling.
i woke up today
and my mind was a shade of blue.
i don't quite remember
drinking 10 bottles of anesthesia
to feel this pale.
every crack on the pavement
looks like a long razorblade
that would cut my foot if i step on it.
here comes the habit of right first then left,
counting the leaves of my neighbor's bush,
and the amount of C's i swallow
because everything should be even.
2,4,6,8
only that to relieve the ache
because you are what you eat
and who wants to be odd?
there in my bed,
i wonder if the rain is infused with anesthetics
and the black hole erupting
is the only pain i am feeling.
and i like the feeling.
now im older,
i cried because i do not want It.
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 5:08 AM UTC
Don't be the fluid
that slowly fills my lungs
and makes it harder for me to breathe
Just because my problems
Are smaller than yours
Does not make them inferior
Or insignificant
Dont you dare tell me
I am over exaggerating
Because you are not in my skin
You dont really know how this is
Just because you've gone
Through millions of miles
Of problems and successes
Does not mean my achievements
Are measly or amount to nothing
Just because you are numb now
Doesn't mean you should numb me too
I can't have a life full of anesthetics
Just let me be
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
The pilgrim's pull ashore....
Strange glass waves smash their feeble ships...
In the meanwhile upon land
In the distant abyss.....
The wildmen dance in song singing....
Ya ha ha-way!
Ya ha ha-way!
Ya ha ha-way!
Ha ha ** ha ha ha-way
Ha ha ** ha ha ha-way...........
Connecting to the creator
Hellion's to sojourner men
Outlandish semblance
Blush maroon colored skin...
Pinna's stitched into costume
As bead's wrap their neck
Efflorescence garbs their smiles
As sage smokes their chest's
Trace bouquet Smell's as oak
As the Willow's they do gather
Pinecones and nut's the both
Are used, eaten, and slathered
Tis
Their friends with the forest
Watchmen of Cimmerian adumbration
Not thy average native
Not found on t.v stations
They follow not the world
Nor the things of material crud
They gallop exposed
All unclothed painted in by the mud
Their mundunugu's and isangoma's
Their healer's of sickened loma's
Their future reader's
And old time Greeter's
They hash up balm pharmaceuticals
And mix in remedy anesthetics
Antibiotic doctors
Believer's in angelic medic
The pioneers come in
Scratching their heads
Bearing babies of far distance
Bringing disease with no end
They park their Vessels on edge
Of those wild men they call beasts
They plant their flag of hatred
And the redskin's are forgiving treat's
The ivory men draws gun
Whilst the natives draw their god
The pale man doth run
This is native land didst the whitened did trod
The natal men's Architect was stronger
Against the real true brutes
As the shaman sent home those foreigners
Back to England and Europe's coupé
As when the bleached beau's had left them
They went into different song
It goes like this
Please don't miss
These are the original's of the law!!!!
They Carol in fire hot dance...
Wee hee nah wee hee nah hee nah
Wee hee nah hee nah
Wee hee nah
Wee hee nah hee nah
Wee hee nah hee nah
Hey **
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 8:51 AM UTC
there are no words
for the way my ski
n electrifies when y
our smoke wraps ar
ound our bodies and
sends shivers down m
y spine because you a
re trickling your finge
rs down my ribs and s
ometimes i can not hel
p but think about how
blood felt trickling dow
n my wrists and by the
time you came around
i was so far gone that i
'm more than surprised
about how someone wh
ose smile is always six m
iles wide could love some
one who wants to be bur
ied six feet under and if i
lost the chance to tell you
that i love you, then i don
;t know where i would be
and if i make my bed in a
grave before you do i hop
e you never pick up the bo
ttle again and try to find s
olace because we both kno
w that anesthetics are neve
r any different from poison
s and if your nerve endings
remember my touch and y
our breath gets short but h
eavy when you think you j
ust got a text from me but
you remember that the te
xt will never come; i want y
ou to know that i love yo
u and that you can make it
through anything and if yo
u do just one thing in my r
emembrance then i want y
ou to never ******* drink
my taste away because no
matter how strong you se
em i still think that my p
assing will make you a lit
tle uneasy and a little diff
erent maybe and i wonde
r if you'll cry anywhere c
lose to as much as i used t
o cry on a nightly basis a
nd will you sneak out an
d walk down to the stop
sign where we exhaled a
nd inhaled smoke and we
held each other and ****
man when i laid on the as
phalt i still wished a car w
ould come speeding by e
ven though that's so ****
ed up and this isn't even a
poem it's just a ****** up
story but if you ever love
d me at all, you won't pi
ck up the bottle- you wo
n't take a shot even if it m
eans remembering the tr
igger.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
**the depths beyond light
of dark primordial fears
ensnared in a trap of
winding dangerous paths
'tween passion and fire,
horizons like ink clouded seas
of menacing madness and
drunkenness' sanity midst
psychobabble's inquisitions
rushing rampant to devour
an overgrown hypothesis
of imagination's luxuriance
and anesthetics' coherency,
taming perpetual motion
of windswept emotions
lingering in shadows of
moonbows after resolute
mind bending storms of
teeming reigns &
elusive transcendence
amid skillfully evasive grapples
beyond liberated rationality**
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 9:29 AM UTC
If silence was ever to be described,
It would be a safe zone in a war.
The calm before the storm,
Or merely the anesthetics fueled in
Before you can start to feel the pain again.
Her silence was just different,
It shrieked in a tearing pain,
Also the numbs the body throughout.
Without voice; it's louder than anything you'll hear.
But you should be worried more when she breaks the silence; and breakout.
-HIY
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
I am hollow like the fragile bones
of birds soaring through the sky
I am numb as the anesthetics used in a surgery
I am quiet yet loud
I contradict myself
from my words and my thoughts
will you still love me when I break
time and time again
will you still kiss my lips
when I retreat into myself
to escape the pain I have seen
the pain I have experienced
I put my thoughts to paper
because my mind is to cluttered to hold them
thoughts spill out in a furious waterfall
of unspoken words
from my closed mouth
will you
will you
see the world as I see it
sit back and observe
the complex emotions, stories, lives
of human creatures
my mind never stops
rambling
I go on and on
I have nothing to say
I have said to much
I am not perfect
I am flawed and misused
I wish to inspire brilliance
but I do not know what to say
take my words away from me
do not do so
I may suffocate and die
I do not know what to say
have I said to much
of pointless things
I have said to little
I like to question the universe
rambling on
will you still care for me
with the invisible tear tracks
on my cheeks
or my uneven teeth
and my eyes that are to large
or do you even exist
will you care for me if you
are not real
this is it
I have lost my mind
bury me with patchwork canvases
of art from long lost lovers
this makes no sense
I make no sense
common sense is creeping into
my raging brain
I need to go to sleep
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 2:05 PM UTC
the room is empty
as a smile, walls that stand
blank as eyes waiting for truth
as i fumble for stolen words
and like children they
spill from outstretched palms.
a gift to the gutters,
a gift to the gods
who laugh in my wake,
inviting me to whiten my bones
among them, among their
house of trees and their
all-knowing shadows.
landlocked words that sit
stagnant in my muscles,
whimpering in cold corners
and clamoring at whitewashed windows.
i want them,
not the labor, not the anesthetics,
but the small, pink-lipped
baby of them.
words like garbage, words
like paper Mache, or as
silent as both.
they are maddening, porcelain,
but they are mine to nurture,
mine to cure,
mine to hold.
Jun 8, 2012
Jun 8, 2012 at 10:00 AM UTC
Sometimes you don’t know it’s the last time until it’s too late.
oftentimes it comes so suddenly,
a goodbye that you thought was only for the night
until you wake up to find that from here on out the only thing kissing your forehead before bed is your pillow.
other times you know it’s coming,
like the last time you’ll see that person laugh before an angel comes
and wipes away every sparkle from their eyes
with the same disinfecting spray used on that hospital bed.
but sometimes, the saddest way, is when you realize that last time has already come and
gone
you realize that a person you once knew, has already left their impact on your life
and has exited without a sound to stage left
after their last scene.
it’s true that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone,
but it’s also true that sometimes you can’t prepare;
like an unexpected hurricane,
and the only thing you have time to grab are some anesthetics for your heart
before evacuating.
every moment of every experience has value,
but sometimes you can’t see them
like the constellations that hide behind a cloudy night;
but they’re still there, they just choose not to reveal themselves.
the trick is, learning how to appreciate them.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 1:58 PM UTC
I should've known you were a bad idea when I asked you what you wanted to be when you grow up and you replied with "surgeon." You failed to inform me that
your interest was in cardiology. You said that you'd like to travel someday. Though your idea of exploration wasn't a foreign continent but a trip through my four chambers. And when you hit the edge of my pulmonary canyons, you wouldn't spare me the anesthetics. I asked you what your favorite color was and you told me it was red. Little did I know, thats because it reminds you of open chests. I should've known you were a bad idea when you took me on a date and only kissed my neck. Said you liked to feel my pulse on your lips. Said it made you feel alive, knowing I'm not dead. I thought that your obsession over my veins was cute. I never thought that your tracing and analysis of my wrist was in any way abnormal. Or that when you squeezed them too tight, it wasn't just cause you like the color purple. I don't really remember our second date, maybe because I was high off of your intoxicating breath. But I do recall your finger tips dancing across my sternum. They must've missed a step because It didn't feel too graceful. Your nails acted as scalpels, each misplacing a rib like an unsolved jigsaw puzzle. tearing apart every piece of certainty, you've always liked surprises. Thats something we have in common. But when you began splitting each artery from the center of my beating image, I couldn't help the shock. The art sketched into my cardiac muscle didn't appeal to you. A corner was missing and the edges were faded and you weren't interested in piecing me together. I think you were hoping for a better picture.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 4:39 PM UTC
i've become overwhelmed and i need to put my emotions down somewhere.
i've realized my feelings for a boy who in no way deserves it. he is young and selfish and in love with another girl and i am a woman and impatient and incredibly annoyed.
we are friends. he has spent the night at my house and i his, and i've told him things very few people know, and i hope its the same with him. however he is in love with a small beautiful girl who will break his heart and i hate it. i will never be with him but he deserves someone who will treat his hardened heart and kind eyes the way they should be. he runs away from his problems and uses drugs as anesthetics and talks about the universe like it holds every answer and when he's tired he uses my shoulder as a pillow. his eyes are light brown and often red from tears or *** and he cries at movies and he wants to kiss her so much and she is silent. she loves the attention and he is willing to give it and i don't know what to do because he is incredible and this is pointless bye
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 10:23 AM UTC
Solving for the x. Step by step
Time is clocking theres no time for any misstep
Thought I had been getting ready for these arithmetics
But now I feel like in anesthetics. Maybe it aint in my genetics
These mathematics got me feelin dumb
Aint got energy to solve. Ive been feeding myself of crumbs, been livin in a slum
Aint easy to have the mind in the equations when everything else is off
Balancing these numbers dont go so peasy when all I want to do is tell the world to **** off
Because who cares about this x when theres no money in the checkbook
I got more problems than the chapters in this textbook
Hoping all this senseless calculations will improve my situation
But waiting for the future is hard when Im living on a ration
Been working all my hours in exchange for some dollars
All of this cause my momma said the only ones that make it are the scholars
But the work I put in seems to be less than the money I receive.
And it all goes away to the bills. Got barely any left to live.
Divide the provisions and multiply the meals
Make sure that tonights dinner is a bit more than beans
Hope that my body has had enough proteins to keep all this going on
Because it seems my mind is about to shut down. Dont know if I can find the answer you were hoping for.
Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 8:46 PM UTC
X-ray my heart tonight
No radiation I can’t take
Drip me my anesthetics
Yet I am widely awake
X marks the soft spot
Never ending maze
Drive me to your heart
You never fail to amaze
Xylophone can be heard
Neither soft nor loud
Dagger through my soul
You are what this is about
X-Files resembles us
Never-ending alienation
Driving into an abyss
You are my constant confusion
Xerox my feelings for you
Note it down in fragrant paper
Drowning…in hopes that
You have the best birthday ever
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 4:32 AM UTC
"She is the souvenir shop that He visits to remember how much people will miss him when He's gone."
She cries so often that She runs out of tears and the sobs escape her in the form of red disappointment that streams from her tiny little-girl wrists. She is the nothing but a landmark. She is the band-aid that He uses to feel beautiful after He is told that He is not. She is the thread that holds his ego together at the expense of her own. And every time She undresses for him, She knows that He is thinking of you. Because, when they're in bed, He's touching her, wishing She was you, and She's touching him wishing He was anyone else. And they're both just anesthetics to fill each other up with a feeling of nothing because somehow, that's better than any type of something. And He never says "I love you" in person, because She knows that He only loves her from shoulders to ankles, no hair in between, ditch the bra and ******* let that Brazilian fall in waves down her chocolate back as She gives him more and more of herself. But then He does say "I love you" it's only when He's still inside her; still a part of her; still taking from her. He'll say he loves her. He'll say it again and again and again. Like a prayer. Like a lamentation. And as He finishes for what was supposed to be the final time, She'll fall apart. Glass trinkets will fall to the floor, tumbling from the decrepit shelves of her heart and shatter all around them for his love of broken things. Like her. And He'll leave.
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 4:20 PM UTC
I held my swimming pool stomach
as they unraveled the hose from the side
of the house. I laid on my back in the needle-like
grass that perforated my skin. They cut beneath
my ribs and lined me with a wood tarp to keep
the water in. No anesthetics, just a cup of fruit punch
to numb the pain. The yellow parasol inside dropped
deeper into the cup with each sip. They placed the hose
in my incision and sewed the skin around it.
As my stomach expanded, I sipped harder, so the pain
would go away. But as I neared the bottom of the glass,
the liner ripped, and summertime was ruined.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC
Sixteen years old
Another night
Another one
FADL guard*
She smiles
the leather belt
around the stomach
is tight
i can see
the sun set
through the window
with the lock
it hurts
in my heart
and
my cracked
ribs
I break down
in tears
and I tell her
about the assault
about the humiliation
that now
on the seventh day
occurs
forced
to derive stools
in a parcel tray
urinate
in a flask
with both hands
bonded
in leather
injected
by force
with anesthetics
denied all movement
Deprived of all freedom
deprived of all dignity
Still
She smiles
while she
calmly
skims
my hair
and softly whispers
the doctor is on his way ..
He's bringing anesthetics...
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 4:52 PM UTC
As some of you know, my father was in crisis yesterday (7/8/17). He went into the ER at the Veteran's Hospital here in Tucson Arizona at around 10AM with tremendously labored breathing. The doctors were afraid he'd had a recurrence of the throat cancer he'd had in 2010. They were pretty much convinced of it, and we were prepared for the worst... but my prayer warriors and I prayed for the BEST.
At around 2PM he had a tracheostomy. They found out it was NOT cancer, but frozen vocal chords that were causing the distress! They used only light anesthetics, and he pulled through with flying colors. Hallelujah!!!
Now what they must determine is what caused the vocal chords to freeze. He could have had a mild stroke. But other than his throat problems he's in excellent shape for a man of 92!
Thank you all who sent us good thoughts and prayers. Those who read, and *everyone on Hello Poetry...
YOU ARE **ALL AWESOME!!
AND SO IS JESUS!! THANK YOU LORD!!***
♡ Catherine
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 5:22 AM UTC
Perhaps one day I’ll look back knowingly
And smile with a twinge of sadness because you never fully forget the angst.
They don’t explicitly talk about it, you know.
The Angst.
The keepers of comfort shield the hopeful eyes from the sad truth.
Do they know it’s universal?
No wonder there’s hype over anesthetics.
“Let’s distract ourselves!”
Okay!
You can’t hide from what’s inside of you, you know.
“But you’ll learn one day, little girl.
Oh, little girl, one day you’ll understand.”
Okay!
Perhaps one day.
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 4:05 PM UTC
He thinks that his withdrawal
Will soften the blow
That his absence
Will numb me like anesthetics
But he doesn't realize
That even if
He's killing me slowly
I'm still bleeding all the same
That even if
I'm suffocated blind
I'm still going to gasp for air
Jul 14, 2023
Jul 14, 2023 at 12:18 AM UTC
*There is a certain amount of misery and sadness that emanates from within when two lovers part ways. Unmistakably so, a feeling permeating like the tails of a comet leaving trails of white hot light in its destructive path; Through the darkest parts of a hearts grieving wrath. The circumstances of separation are usually unimportant when viewed through the kaleidoscope like lens of a comets looking glass. If you blink right on time, you'll miss the haunted look blankly staring out in to the starry dark night sky. Yet all that was right and whole, in one fell swoop seems to disintegrate in to a mysterious black hole. It leaves your innards laughing devilishly scattering like asteroids on earths inevitable impact, scarred and ****** A state of unrest travels throughout the body as though anesthetics have been administered without fair warning.
You have not the faintest clue there is a storm brewing on the horizon, yet your first instinct begs further investigation. It is not the clouds or rain that moves you, rather the lightning that strikes you down; Turning all that you are in to a fragile piece of glass. The subtlety of the shatter gives way like a **** breaking leaving no room for second guesses. Pure catastrophe heeds in the foreseeable path one travels upon. I cannot stress as much as I can detest a lighthouses warning to an incoming ship. Those waters need carefully charted and calculated maps. However, with or without, one is sure enough to hit the rocky shores and crash.
© 2014 Christina Jackson*
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 8:09 PM UTC
Watching muscles ache from the stress in your back
Waiting for bones to break from the weight of what you lack.
I would spend all my time helping you find truth,
And it really cuts like a knife knowing I can't save you.
And it really eats me inside, knowing i cant bring you back.
AND I CANT TELL WHAT HURTS MORE.
PIECING MYSELF TOGETHER OR PRETENDING IM INTACT
THE FACT YOUR CONTACT IN MY PHONE IS JUST A MEMORY
OR THAT ILL NEVER BE ABLE TO ACCEPT YOUR MORTALITY...
Because saying goodbye hurts the worst when you know it's the final word
It comes across like a curse and I can't believe you said it first
So now the final word on the final page
of the final chapter of this narrative we made
Is my weak conscious whispering words through my mouth,
the very words I prayed would never come out.
I keep clinging onto the past and hoping the future will be the same,
But now I cry and laugh knowing the past would not remain
And I would argue with God, every night I would lie awake
And lie to myself, hoping all of this was fake.
But fate has a funny way of rearranging things.
It comes in unannounced and misplaces everything.
The hours are ticking and they feel like forever.
But forever came suddenly and it feels like nothing.
Because I got a new perspective on general anesthetics
When you finally went to see Jesus,
and all your family learned how to believe in a void,
because that's all that they could see.
Cigarette smoke and broken words,
My heart became the platform for everything they hated the most,
And I stayed clear of the lack,
Hoping somebody would come by and cut this rope.
And I wrestled with the idea of taking your place,
But I know that if anyone deserves a break from this world of pain,
It's you, it's not me.
And I'm still asleep.
It's not about being there for me, it's about respecting me enough
to tell me why you're not.
So I'll just slip back into my sleep,
There's a ghost in my casket .
and most nights, I wish it was you.
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 2:29 PM UTC
Someone,
help me.
Please.
They've replaced my blood
with anesthetics,
I
CAN'T
FEEL
ANYTHING
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 8:32 PM UTC