"autonomic" poems
The parasympathetic nervous system
is responsible for regulations
unconsciously transpiring
within the organs and
the glands of
the body.
Such as:
urination, salivation, digestion, defecation, and
lacrimation
(noun. ‘the flow of tears’. Latin.
from lacrimare (‘weep’) and lacrima (‘tear’).
It’s why I cry
even when I don’t want to.
You are the parasympathetic nervous system.
The (ortho-)sympathetic nervous system
is responsible for the mobilization
of the fight-or-flight response
and constantly maintaining
homeostasis within
the body.
It acts
rapidly, enacting an attempt at stability and
the necessary and critical ability
to suddenly escape
on pulsing legs or
cling to survival through
brandishing adrenaline-doused knuckles
and dilated pupils.
It’s why you live
even when you don’t want to.
I am the sympathetic nervous system.
The parasympathetic and sympathetic nervous systems
are two of three essential nervous systems which
compose the autonomic nervous system
(a part of the peripheral
nervous system)
that manages
involuntary
functions of the body. Such as:
swallowing, perspiration, arousal, breathing, and
heart rate
(noun. ‘the speed of the heartbeat’.
usually expressed in beats per minute. mine speeds up when I see you).
Individually these two systems oppose
but compliment
each other like our hands do—
pressed together and omitting equal force;
veins meeting
at the fingertips and throbbing at the wrists
but running amuck on our respective digits otherwise.
You are the invariable and unspoken reminder to
breath,
love,
sweat,
and live.
I am the sudden snap of reality always aiming to save you
but grudgingly willing to fight you and
ready
to
leave.
From the deepest lower half of my brainstem
and from every nerve
in my cycling body,
I’m sorry.
From all of my chromaffin cells
and from the truest parts of submandibular ganglian,
I am sorry.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
Fast food
Fast cars
Fast girls
Fast world
Fast paced
Shoes laced
Heightened heart rate
Don't be late
Sweat beading your being
Aren't you tired?
Your soul's taking a beating
Tweeting instead of reading
Face booking instead of looking up
Have you forgotten how to breathe?
Involuntary actions* now include refreshing your news feed
The best years of our lives wasted on the internet
Reblogging pictures that reflect our interests
Hoping the next follower is our next best friend
What happened to human interaction?
We're all connected by a single thread
Let's take a stand and realize this now instead of on our death beds
Look up
Look out
Look in
Lose doubts
Lose sin
Lose shame
Open your eyes
Forget the game
autonomic functions
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 1:35 PM UTC
bonetender night, polaric.
windswept crown atones
weeping wanderer.
rigid matriarch condones
tantrum medication. vast
control shapes diminished conscience,
actuating frustration;
migrane pulse doctorate.
sad shell housing beaten wails,
a closed eye, ear to brains.
steady now, absorb sultry stance.
dim lamp set on autonomic fade.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 6:00 AM UTC
I’m thinking about the doctor's hands shaking as she
struggles to intubate a cat.
I’m thinking about the technician's hands squeezing the cat’s rib cage,
pulsing life with a delicate force; she is much more gentle than
practitioners are with humans—
hard and quick down with the palms; the ribs snapping,
the sternum sore.
Some time ago an 80-year-old woman on my unit was
opened up bedside for a cardiac procedure during a code.
After a week in ICU, she came back to us on the unit, was up and
walking and talking, and was discharged home within another week.
Meanwhile, the 60-year-old man was dead in the morgue
after a 45-minute code failed to resuscitate him.
The flip of the coin. The thin line. The blessing or the curse.
The absolute darkness of a body bag. The cold chill of absolute zero.
The fresco painted on the catacomb walls could either depict the
light of the sun or the multicolored lights that the
brain shoots off minutes before death.
The eleventh hour,
isn’t that what it’s called?
We don’t want to talk about body care, death care.
We have to, but it won’t register.
After a loss, after a trauma,
we are on autopilot.
I think of my mother,
six feet beneath frozen soil in
a pink padded casket and think:
I don’t want that.
I think of the prearranged plots my grandparents picked out
next to her in an above ground crypt and think:
I don’t want that.
Bacteria still causes decay after the embalming process.
Putrefied flesh. Bones visible. Muscles eaten. Tissues disintegrated.
We don’t talk about it.
We try to think the opposite. The positive vs the negative.
(But that’s not always possible or healthy.)
I’m thinking about hands inserting IVs, hands taking
blood pressures, hands documenting the code notes
on a clipboard in the back of the room.
I couldn’t do these things.
My hands tend to break what they touch.
The glass bowl in the pet store.
The clay project in art class.
The succulents, the basil, the orchid.
I’m good at things I don’t have to think about:
good at the autopilot, good at the autonomic,
good at trauma.
Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 2:47 AM UTC
When you have met the point of intersection where doubt doesn't exist in the mind
And you have left evil eye and imprints of the dead at the center point
At the moment that the high self is just slightly altered and the total manifestation begins to trickle down into the autonomic functions of the ego
It begins an infantile form of self forgiveness that is void of nested spaces that house an association to the systematic map of words and actions that held trial and judgement
Somewhere in the particular dimension Hecate facilitated the depths of soul to be worn about the outer rims of the aura while fastened securely to the glow of high heart chakra
And the soul can depict the source form energy peering into its center with white eyes
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 9:52 PM UTC
Somebody come and pick me up
(the heart of the bird is the weight of the bird)
I've been sinking into the universe
(the size of a needle eye)
And I'm beginning to really, really lie
With my autonomic nerves
And their will to life.
Sep 19, 2025
Sep 19, 2025 at 3:08 PM UTC
When I get out of bed
at night,
the mind is quite nuts
because it is on auto-pilot,
and stuck in an in-between
dream and awakening state,
and the autonomic nervous system
is what is working,
in it's automatic way,
but I get nervous
that maybe some demons
crawled into my ears
while I was asleep,
so I begin to meditate,
and that calms me,
but I shouldn't be afraid
of that lizard mind
because it could well
be illuminating.
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 11:34 AM UTC
The sun cheerfully rises every morning
As does my hope
Coffee flavored with a hint of ambition spiked in the liquid caramel drizzle
The curtains are drawn back
Just like my despair
Hidden beneath all of my "to-do's" and "do-later's"
A cluttered mess I hope to never sift through
Three missed called from an old enemy Depression and I'm too busy to ever call back
I crave my quotidian omelet like I crave a fulfilled life
Inside, surprises delight my enchanted taste buds
And my appetite for being alive is heightened with the spices electrifying their energetic flavors
Caffeine sparking my newfound devotion to activity and business to leave no room in my schedule for sadness
But as the sun sets every evening
My hope and beliefs are suddenly invisible in the vacantly somber sky
The stars shine like my thoughts
Ricocheting ideas in the back of my mind
Inching their way forward like the caterpillar in the cage
As the darkness sets in, my eyes adjust in a timely matter
A form of classical conditioning I picked up on early in my life
My irises only responding to the anchors holding me down
I vent to the moon all night about my confusion and unhappiness
And it laughs at my tears, begging for me to "wait and see" when the sun comes up
But I hone in on the negativity surrounding me like the pictures of him and the music of the crooks in the night
We aren't all bad people for feeling this way
To choose a side is to choose night or day
To choose a connotation for my life
My autonomic response is negative
Night and day are merely metaphors for life
And every aspect I experience on a daily basis
It's enough insanity to drive my car off the cliff at night
Only to rise to the top and reverse it all in the morning
Waiting around to make your own sunshine in the world of darkness is complex and seemingly impossible
To fall to an impasse or to rise against?
Ask me in the afternoon how I feel
And I may end up letting you know
I am a night owl
No matter how hard it hurts me
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 9:09 AM UTC
A bit of another story
for someday when we can
make the time,
to think how old river tales are,
those ones when a river is bent,
to the will of empires, using tiny
autonomic nanobots, scene human scale.
Here your mind crossed mine in all probability
exactly once, just
right, it all was just fine, grinding
to a halt,
frictional tension, old blisters recollected
as reminders, what the science misthought right,
and sold mysteriously, for the promise to pay
all the taxes you manage to squeeze,
from the cash cows digital representation,
brass bull, where once stood a golden calf,
in the blood of a red heifer and a white buffalo.
Mar 24, 2023
Mar 24, 2023 at 12:16 AM UTC
My heart beats
some manic
American dream
just
like
yours
We just have to go deeper
and not get too
emotionally attached
'cause destiny's a *****
just like the distance
Short-term impulse episodes
of mass enjoyment
vs.
Long-term miracles
of wishful thinking
I'm on that "Be the change you wish to see" ****
or believe long enough to see some strange ****
Truth be told,
it's amazing
how much you don't know
because you're
too scared
to look inside
or ever ask "why"
more than what
you read online
No.
It's always some new notification
an autonomic phantom vibration
of the lost soul
Missing out
on it's missing
piece/peace
That stumbles in tune
to delusions
of
Godlike
tendencies
Gracefully,
all the way
back to the pharmacy
As long as they're prescribing
hope and ambition
This American dream,
I'm sleeping on it.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 4:19 PM UTC
Drunk in a glass
Drunk in a thought
One all consuming moment
I am lost in thinking
And lost in unthinking seeing
Autonomic functions compunction
Maintains the living construction
But my mind is gone in it all
I am sight and sound and thoughts unheard
Chasing a feeling that's bent on concealing
Hidden behind the layers of things
I am energy transforming,
Matter conforming
To god knows what
I am a corpse out of time
I am drunk and still drinking
Thoughts in my glass and beer in my mind
Though I look I cannot find
My keys
Thank God
Bartender! one more, and call a cab for me
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 6:48 PM UTC
The superior are not superior.
They thrive from abundance,
They thrive from virus and dispersion.
They live in the bodies of a tyrant,
It is their plentifulness that renders oppression,
Not their dialect.
Our vision may be more vulnerable than our hearing.
Tell me i'm crazy,
I shall not mind.
I do not mind.
Make me privy to your plentifulness,
My autonomic reflexes put me at a discomfort
Abnormal heartbeat was unknown to I.
The shadow they've left behind, brings more fright than their non-existent emotions.
T'was my visionary sense,
That brought me this discomfort.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
"I'm yours now. You can do whatever you want to me."
I didn't even know what to say,
I never did,
I was still shocked you could want anything to do with me
You said you had hopes for us,
But what hope was there?
We had no direction, no plans,
We just plodded forward hoping this foundation we built could brave the trials of winter
I've read that soulmates can come together and apart just as easily,
A tragic scenario to be certain,
And if that's the case,
What is a soulmate but a reminder that love is eternal agony?
I do still love you,
Love is,
It's become like breathing,
Autonomic
I can't even remember life before this,
What it was like to be absentminded,
The loveliness of ignorance,
Oh how I would gorge on its sweetbreads
But this is simply life now,
I live in flashbacks and moments,
I love ghosts and candied words,
And I drink the liquor of empty hopes
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 1:32 PM UTC
dog wiggles and wags and shakes his tail
while cat hisses and spits and bares its nails
dog catches ball and Frisbee alike
cat hangs around and mews when it likes
dog protects and marks its place
cat sleeps all day and is hard to trace
dog lives by pack rules and mentality
at times i think cat lives unattached to me
dog is all drool with autonomic leg kick
cat is all purr but can't catch a thrown stick
dog i must walk or run with attention
cat leaves home with barely a mention
dog marks its place again and again
cat pees in in a square box as its been trained
dog and cats both age in human years times seven
both age quickly then go to heaven
my dog is still imaginary or so it seems
and my cat has moved on live in its dreams
perhaps in the future when all is clear
say goodbye to my kitty and a puppy I'll rear....
Mar 5, 2010
Mar 5, 2010 at 5:44 AM UTC
.
When the feelings run and hide
and when there is nothing left inside.
I cannot even begin to disguise
the fact that I have cemetery eyes.
An empty shell, a carcass, a husk,
autonomic movement from dawn to dusk.
I will not allow my emotions to rise
and bring back life to my cemetery eyes.
There are words I just cannot repeat,
questions and probing, an enforced retreat.
The shutters fall, there is no compromise,
nobody sees behind my cemetery eyes.
© Pagan Paul (2018)
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 1:04 PM UTC
i am the caffeinated Hours of my Children
who expect me to distill their Dreams
so they can dance with Reality
i am Constant
hurting from the blinded Kiss between
Your Toe and the glass Door
i am the Aftermath, the new Beginning
the Realization that Your bed is empty, cold
the ironic Affinity of my shiver and Your miraculous warmth
i am an autonomic Machine,
a double Entendre of Monotony
the Routine You never realized
i wait for You
because You make me all of this
and That is all ive ever wanted
Feb 7, 2012
Feb 7, 2012 at 4:51 PM UTC
I regurgitate my thoughts and
Immediately reprimand my mouth
For letting the word ***** escape
So badly wishing I could stuff it back in
The words flow out faster than I can stop them
My brain urges me to stop but the word ***** becomes autonomic it switches to autopilot
It self destructs me and continues to speak without my say
The words flow, thick in regret, recklessness and resent
My mind is a garbage site
One that wishes to be cleared
Call that the three r's
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 8:28 PM UTC
I'm talking in poems,
Not taking out loans.
Should I stop?
Listen to rhyme cops?
Limbic brain knows
As expression flows;
Alliteration assignations,
Word associations.
Autonomic metonymy
Brings out the best of me.
Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 10:27 PM UTC
Lets get over the stupid **** about God and the Devil
Satan is the serpent power
originating at the base of the spine, this is primal power corresponding to the id
With out Satan you would be dead
This power regulates primal autonomic excretory and ****** functions, ie. survival and supports the higher activities of the body mind and soul
corresponding to the ego and super ego, your God
The ego is and integrative mechanism that stands between Id and the super ego ie Devil or Id and God or the super ego
The id is the original primal survival mechanism and true will not to be ignored or denied
The light is born of the darkness and is born-less
The darkness is eternal and the light is everywhere within her
The super ego is discernment ...principal ....reason...ethics and ideation's of mythic heroes , not to be ignored or denied
In religion aspects of the higher self are personified as a Christ, Buddha, Krishna etc when God takes human form
and the Devil is personified as Satan, Asuras Beelzebub Demons or various miscreants in human form
If Christians adhered strictly to total purity they would have to insist on castrations and analectomies to purge their so called evil elements and die because surviving with out the lower is undoable
conversely the Satanists would require lobotomies or being guillotined because living without essential principals is indoable
God and the Devil are not mutually exclusive except when they're viewed through the maw of religion...God and the Devil are different sides of the very same coin
In the royal yoga of the the east when the serpent power ascends up the spinal column the id, ego and super ego are instantaneously integrated and transcended into an all together different order and the fractured nature of self is over come by unity
This unity transcends all myth and concepts of god ie. religion ethics morality
It is a totally transcendent order..
In western terms as a human you stand between the the higher and the lower
Spiritual evolution is not about taking sides its about the integration towards a whole self
You are potentially the magician who mobilizes the lower to serve the higher
This may be an over simplification but
you use your demons to create a base ...they are work slaves to get money so you can go to your temple, your home...the higher self in effect and reflect on the beauty of life
.helllooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
CAN WE **** NOW :)
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 3:08 PM UTC
While you decide--
The weight of my tears are heavy.
The pulse in my veins is thready.
My heart aches, it's not ready.
But my lungs--my lungs remain steady.
My vision blurs as my heart splinters.
My lungs feel frozen, like a lake in winter.
Under the pressure I hear it creak,
I hear it squeak.
The traitorous ******** keep on going.
They open & close beneath the pressure of a broken heart, the oxygen still flowing.
I have weary heart syndrome.
The lungs supply its misery to the beat of their own autonomic metronome.
My heart is looking for the one whom my soul loves.
It is indeed a mourning dove.
A mourning dove inside a cage.
My atriums are fluttering, waiting to see what's written on life's next page.
Is it your name next to mine at the starting line?
I thought I was, but now I wonder if that was ever genuine?
You are the person I choose.
But also my favorite person I'm terrified to lose...
My heart is breaking.
My soul is aching.
Please, won't you choose me like I have chosen you?
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC
Im glad that the Heart
Beats only on its accord
For my Mind, gave up
Mar 8, 2025
Mar 8, 2025 at 3:31 AM UTC
more drivel
like autonomic
pouring from these flapping lips
am I comfortable with silence
or can't I stand my thoughts
Aug 2, 2022
Aug 2, 2022 at 10:06 AM UTC
The day of my life is not eternal
Neither without the warmth of the sunlit hands
Nor the chilling stare of the moons bright eye
And yet…
As the days amidst the months pass by, like the tides
So I stop and start my heart from beating
Autonomic is this loving way of mine
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 5:09 PM UTC