"cardiac" poems
"Stoner's Poem"
I see your snapstories,
I see your ask profile.
I see how you comment and reply and flaunt your English skills.
Trust me, I love your rebuttals,
More than Biryani and the Lebanese pornstar.
I see your Facebook posts,
I see your WordPress,
And I see, how you craft your poems flamboyantly,
And then, and then,
Pilfer my breath,
And rob my me.
Sometimes, just sometimes,
Your deportment bewilders me,
More than Lowry-Bronsted's theory.
I see how you dance in the rain,
Like "All, sin, tan, cos", do in my brain.
I see how you frequent every segment of my cardiac muscle,
And then desert it, like it's one of the many dilapidated constructions.
My reminiscences about your thingness,
Escalate me to a higher spiritual level,
More than **** does.
Oh, that smile,
Oh, that look,
Oh, the mystique in you.
And again, I am writing of Love.
And the pen doesn't seem to stop soon,
For I have taken a greater risk,
Than asking my friend about cathodes and anodes and electrolysis, while I took my last chemistry exam,
When the invigilator was around.
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 3:55 AM UTC
You said
The most brilliant thing
You said it was
Like a heart surgery
But he was only a
Surgeon in training
And had neglected to
Mention beforehand
That it was only
Exploratory cardiac surgery;
And it was just for his
Simmering curiosity
*(He couldn't have carried
Out a simple angioplasty?)*
That he cut the aorta
That's what you said
And his curiosity subsided;
And he left as you bled.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 5:54 AM UTC
*I am a nymphomaniac.
I'm not really but it got your attention.
I bet I nearly gave all reading a cardiac.
I have to make bold statements now, as I have a condition called,
"Black Glasses" and no one makes passes at ladies in glasses.*
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 6:07 PM UTC
Here is to the bitter eye of the even sky
The acidic beverage I imbibe
So I can feel just a little more alive
For that cardiac killing back breaking
Blood spilling sweat distilling nine to five
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 6:00 PM UTC
There was a time I saw...
The beckoning stars,
in your eyes, juvenescent.
Like beacons from afar.
There was a time I felt...
The burn of your lips.
The rush of crazed blood
that held in tight grips.
There was a time I inhaled...
your intoxicating scent.
Inciting cardiac somersaults
in a time long spent.
There was a time I thought...
We would last forever
through the last of grains.
Hourglass doomed to shatter.
There was a time I knew...
That nothing could ever alter,
same tune we have hummed,
words we've carved in each other.
There was a time I dreamt...
Of floating in your seas.
Your vast body enveloping,
drowning out my insecurities.
There was a time I worried...
for your dreams of grandeur.
When you spoke of seeking,
the dream of life much better.
There was a time I died...
When you had packed and gone.
Leaving only the broken
promises and empty dawns.
There was a time I hoped...
That sooner you'd be back.
Standing at my door,
beside you, your travel laden sack.
But now you're back...
The pain gnaws in greater bites.
The stars, they twinkle no longer
they were killed by the city lights.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
This axe was made from
Oak and
Anger.
Forged in the fires that
Shaped my cardiac
Armour.
I'll never surrender to a
Woman
Who sees love as war
Ever again.
It's been a long,
Lonely time.
But I've seen peace.
Still sacrifice to the gods,
Praying for brief, cold
Winters; for all other
Seasons to be neither.
They all have room for a
Woman between them,
But my hatred for ego
Is a burning beacon of warning
Even I myself shun.
I just want the silence.
That deep, deep silence,
Whose last word will never be:
"Me,"
But:
"... ... ..."
That, I can love.
This axe was made from
Oak and
Anger.
It beats paper; scissors; stone.
Sees me armed. And still
Alone.
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 7:54 PM UTC
Lips curling towards blue hues
bestow scintillant cut pearls
which bite cardiac tissues
like fur companions nip hands
The physical sensation
lacks pleasure in a vacuum
yet the conveyed affections
grip the fabrics of being
How those star gazers lift, too,
and cradle a future, thus
beckoning mine towards you
with no ending in sight.
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 4:25 PM UTC
Incapacitated, infuriated,
In doldrums.
Cardiac explosions,
Waterfall eyes.
You are
My downfall.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 2:10 PM UTC
stress like the rest I’m trying to get something off my chest. its a weight so great my body begins to shatter all i want to do is yell but this weight is hell it pushes all the air from my lungs till they are bare. do you even care? are you even there? stress is the pain in my chest it feels like cardiac arrest i feel like i should be wearing a bullet proof vest because I’m wearing a red target on my chest. just something to aim at. stress is a mess with no clear way to clear a path without being cluttered by fear. it will bring tears, it will make you think of the ones you hold dear, stress is that weight on your chest making you feel oppressed. its something i deal with normally dont worry i dont repress. i paint it on this page with each move i make a digital valve releases letting you read this.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC
This verse soundscape
is labelled dejected and angry.
Procrastinated
pockets
of
hope deferred
make the heart choke
in a vice-like
pressure cooker
tension filled
with
the cardiac solution called
LIFE
Think about it.
Tasting your own medicine
is
such a bitter pill to swallow.
They say
“Be the change that you want to see”
but
NO CHANGE
I see
on paths traveled
now
&
before
me.
Does this mean
the change I want to see
is
‘no change’
– a Spirit
personified
slowly
dying
yet
living
within you and me?
Think about it.
Tired of a dead lifes' heart attack?
then
SEE THROUGH
the change you want
to be.
On your journey
bitter pills do digest.
USING
the
MEMORY
of that
ill
taste
to heal
&
outlive
the sickness
prevalent in this
human
**RACE
?**
Think about it.
WHAT REALLY IS YOUR HURRY?
S L O W D O W N.
Can't you can see ?
GRAVES'
great joy
is
to
blind & thieve
"your grace"
leaving you
with just enough energy
to
kick the bucket,
while robbing you of understanding
that these
sweet words
origin
from
YOU
to
ME
reflecting
what 20-20
would let you
really see...
**You are Kings & Queens**
Think about it.
We are all connected unilaterally.
Put plainly;
we agree to disagree,
in the midst of the fact that
there can be
no lasting freedom
until there is a weathered
wisdom
of
UNITY.
So(w),
If you see her
hold fast,
relinquish not,
D O N 'T L E T GO!
For
that's the point
when we truly become
LOST SOULS.
© Qwey.ku
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 10:44 AM UTC
A blank space occupies my existence.
Sleeping alone again.
My hearts thermometer shattered.
I've caught a cold the day you left and I haven't gotten better.
Loneliness is a detriment to the cardiac.
A coffin without its corpse.
The hollowness of an empty hearse.
Both of us know that funerals don't work this way.
We belonged together
you said we'd never be alone again
you said we would never end
you said
you promised
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 5:20 AM UTC
just now my heart gave two great
and heaving beats
that shuddered my whole chest.
i know this is just a symptom
of the cardiac quirk i inherited from my mother
but it felt to me like some sort of physical closure.
for a moment after it happened
my chest didn't have that emptiness anymore.
my body is healing my nonbody.
that's what it felt like.
for a second, anyway.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
Do you like science? Cause I've got my ion you
we're a dance of subatomic particles, you get my cardiovascular system worked up
"Nerd," you declare with a smile sweeter than C6H12O6
I glare at you and giggle louder than 194 decibels, we break all the laws
I'm so attracted to you, scientists will have to make a 5th fundamental force
we fit together like sticky ends of DNA
I fall in love with you every time I see you, faster than my DNA replicates
being in your arms feels like homeostasis, we'll last longer than thorium
I think I'm kinda maybe trying to say
every time light reflects off of you and onto my retina the sudden protracted cardiac arrhythmia I get tells me that gulp Iloveyou
Aug 10, 2016
Aug 10, 2016 at 11:01 AM UTC
.
*… and the look of fear
co-existing with pain
on a contorted face
that knows
it is in mortal difficulty,
as ragged fingers
clutch,
clutch,
at a fire they cannot reach,
ripping agonies react,
to an enforced cardiac episode,
as blackness closes in
gravity heaves its hardest,
but the fall is fake,
a red herring in the event,
and the weight of the world
presses down, searching,
retracts
waiting,
presses down, searching,
retracts
waiting,
as breath is given freedom
in exhalation to the light,
that slowly rolls back
the pitch hue of the void,
returning back images,
feeling,
a new belief,
and the fire inside quietens,
and the fire inside quietens,
to the intense glow
of a burnt aching heart.*
© Pagan Paul (2018)
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 5:45 AM UTC
There's a new kind of war.
My blind willingness to follow you
into the darkest and most desolate alleyways,
my undying devotion to your warmth,
the overwhelming desparity of my struggle
all have me cardiac-arrested.
You're the captor.
It happened on the eve of a new moon,
her face turned away to hide her shame
over her daughter's decision to be guided by light.
The night may have birthed me,
but I could not ignore the brilliance of your glow.
Tides must be the forces behind your eyes
because I've seen the ebb and flow of emotion behind them.
Did you know the moon controls tides?
The waves are what bring you and I together,
contrasting yet connecting darkness and light.
Ebb--the moon pulls you towards her with the gravity of her breath.
Flow--she releases you from her imprisonment and into freedom to follow your own light.
Constanty swaying between two opposing forces:
that's when the battle was born.
I may possess enough strength to pull you towards me,
but other forces push you away and into her arms instead.
It is on the corner of her Push and my Pull
that the battlefield called Love was formed.
-mp
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 1:17 AM UTC
Love is suicide,
Loving you is emotional death
Hyperventilation,
Cardiac arrest
There exists no life without you
I am crippled by the absence of your warmth
Struggling to be free from thy love
Whilst chained to the ground.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
3 inches of dust
Coat my nails
Been so long
Since I’ve
Caressed
The golden waves
Stiffened wrists
Cardiac arrest
From ocean eyes
Depths unknowing
Only paper to guide
A pale hand
Towards a wizened tree
That used to scream
Songs so lovely
Core is rotted
Pesticides poisoned
Blood giving life
Through the roots
But not the right kind of life
The dead kind of life
Bounty dead
An innocent deer at the base
Her throat slit
And an arrow through her eye
The taste of salt
Still on her tongue
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 8:24 PM UTC
Hope died yesterday at 3:01 a.m. mountain time.
It was a massive cardiac arrest.
The hearts of every good person in the world
Exploded simultaneously.
Over six million instant deaths,
Unplanned, unexpected
Unexplained,
All the nice people died on mass.
If you are alive this morning
You are not one of the good people.
You are one of the ********
At least with clarity we can move forward.
We have a starting point.
I am an *******
Now let’s make things better.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 2:16 PM UTC
The constant fear of stomach aches,
back pain,
sore muscles,
colds and flu,
headaches,
bad coughs,
weird sensations that you don't even understand.
The constant fear of wrongly multiplying cells,
of hair loss,
of transplant,
of cardiac arrest,
of nausea,
of ***** failure,
of words like lymph nodes,
stage three,
clogged arteries,
terminal,
irreparable damage,
cancer.
The constant deaths,
in a thousand different ways,
in a thousand different hospital beds,
that consume you every day,
make you sick in the head,
sick,
sick,
sick.
The constant Grim Reaper's hand of health anxiety,
forever on your shoulder.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 12:33 PM UTC
I reach deep inside of myself
hoping to pull something out.
Tickling, teasing,
A game I like to play.
I know the risks:
Dehydration, fatigue, tooth decay, osteoporosis, anemia, hypotension, arrhythmia, cardiac arrest, death.
I roll the dice, because in this moment
I know I’d rather die than keep the Poison inside.
So, I dig, deep, into the dark,
Until I hit it: X marks the spot.
Tease it out. Force it out.
The treasure spills from the core of me.
I win.
I am emptied over and over and over again,
Until there is nothing left of the Poison and nothing left of me.
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 4:46 PM UTC
I.
I thought you were the one.
I imagined us flying to Manila, meeting the entire family,
you proposing on the pristine sands of Boracay or
in the small village where you used to play with spiders.
I thought of possible baby names pronounced beautifully
in both of our families' native tongues.
II.
We grew together, abandoned defenses until you were my only confidant.
I still haven’t recovered from the way you used that against me:
Sealing my confessions into bullets in a magazine and making sure
I was centered in the crosshairs of the scope,
a different kind of target practice.
III.
You were my special kind of poison, the kind that slipped through my veins
unnoticed until it corrupted my cardiac muscle and collapsed my lungs.
I ate away at myself until I was small enough not to threaten you,
and even that wasn’t enough.
I finally got the courage to leave you, but I formed a thick cocoon
around my chrysalis of secrets to protect myself from you
and the next.
IV.
It’s been two years and I still have you, your mother,
and every Carlsbad or Mira Mesa area code blocked.
You realized you could invade my voicemail so you rang in 2019,
screaming whiskey-soaked wishes for a better year for us both.
I honestly believe you want that, in your own way.
I wish you the best too, but
I have outgrown you.
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 3:58 AM UTC
In moments of raging to the hospital, the jolts from the road, the squeal of the tires, and the tripping of your feet only multiply your anxiety. Delicacy is suspended amply in the air, hanging daintily on the thread of life and death.
Delicacy is the soft and inconsistent beeping from the cardiac monitor. It controls your thoughts; yet is only a shadow on your radar. It shares the rhythm of the pounding in your head, and the thumping in your chest. You strain to shut everything out, leaving only the shy quiver of breathe slithering out from their lax lips. Their lips tremor under the reign of some foreign enemy, and their eyes flutter from an unseen truth. It is the suffering you wish to unburden them from, the pain you would inflict upon yourself in return for both their lives intact.
Delicacy is a light fragrance, a mixture of disinfectant and sweat. Is it the scent of creating a life, or the imminent end of it? Beads of perspiration stream down your face and sting your eyes.
The sweet caress of silk treads faintly underneath your fingertips. You rub the back of her hand, clammy and fragile. Rubbing the skin, you forget who the comfort is more for while footsteps pierce the stillness in the air. A figure dawned in white appears before you. Their form blurs in and out of focus, their voice a toneless muddle seeping through your cloud of stupor.
Delicacy is a whisper flashing goosebumps across your skin, "We can only save one of them." It is the realization that too much pressure, and two months premature, is a cocktail dyed with poison. She looks to you with eyes of understanding and acceptance.
Delicacy is the collapsing of all you know. It is the berating of incoherent words tumbling from your lips for the pure sake of escaping. You're swiftly taken from the room, kicking and screaming to the hallway.
The unsettling tick of the clock mocks your every fiber. You **** the void of silence with the tapping of your foot, taming yourself from barging your way into the room. With the screaming from the bed, the instinct of protection, the stiffening of your back, the nurse quickly ushers you back in.
The soft and consistent rising of the baby's chest is surrounded with the light fragrance of life. The plush fibers of the yellow blanket tug on the skin of your fingertips. The fascination apparent in your eyes, look to her while wondering how this little body will have the biggest impact on your life. Delicacy is the soft whisper flashing goosebumps across your skin, "We made it."
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC
swim until you can’t see land
until names etched deep in cardiac tissue blur
and fade, scored over with seasalt and creases of a million maps,
a secret stash of maps. absurd and hoarded and crumpled under carseats and
rolled neat
and boastful in umbrella holders or worse, framed and hung
Maps jotted freehand on napkins stained with tea and mustard and left
to be bused with the crusts and pocketful of change.
swim until you can’t read the maps.
the lines to here from there are arteries
on your fresh, clean heart.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 12:15 AM UTC
The clock is ticking its cardiac arrest,
minds fall into the spastic timing.
Well, my eyes are falling.
Whisper lashes on my cheeks
not my own.
A panther's sigh on a leopard's side
Little girl step into your woman shoes.
I keep my smile above the painted ruse
their lungs filling with icy air,
turning my words to vapor.
Rainbow arching over my head,
lead me to your futuristic *** of gold.
Is that feathers tickling the skin of my arms
or is that your hair?
Make the ceiling your ocean.
Salty smells
just sail away
Just when I think I've conquered the shadowy mockingbird in my mind,
my heart jumpstarts at false thunder rolls.
Tongue, decide between blood and caramel.
Run, you little fears as fast as you can
so I can bend over to pick some flowers.
Watch my dreams travel into your eyes,
I've fallen into their velvet hole.
Spaces are filled,
branches bending,
As my feet pound the dirt back where it belongs.
Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 2:55 AM UTC