"compressions" poems
Making that final decision,
When to stop compressions,
To give up on a life,
Create a family depression.
Someone has to cope with calling,
When eternity calls,
We let doctors play God,
They stay professional as life falls.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 6:36 AM UTC
Train spotted on ancient rail tracks
Mucks and grants on submerged pasts
Copper and ***** metal poles point
Upwards in heaven above the panelled tops
Price all the intentional conditioning
A paradise of self sufficiency
A dew of ranting , the metal raiding
Price the substitutional compressions
A timber frame of tunnels
The heightened temperature
Price and tag her beautiful mind
An attachment of glorified plinth
The punch of the chaotic medals
Pride and rearrange her plentiful plight
Show all her cast frame in crimson and greys
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 8:57 AM UTC
I saw a man dead today
Head on
Chest liquid
Legs no longer
The truck he collided with
Totaled
A human sized dent
The bike he rode
Destroyed
The compressions don’t help
Though many try
Human’s banded together for one man
Who stood no chance
In this death I learned
There is good in this world
In this death I learned
There is sadness
Once a friend
Gone for now
Yet he lives on in the friends he rode with
Those who witnessed that horrific incident
I did not know him
I never saw his face
We prayed for him
For those he was with
For those who have seen
For those who grieve
For ourselves
I saw a man dead today
But remembered why we live
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 12:13 AM UTC
i ride the wave
of brighter days
hoping hard to find a way
to realize & recreate
that blatant stress
i was so obsessed with,
that violent mess
to which i made
a blind investment.
i looked to you for chest compressions
when my veins prayed for resuscitation lessons
but you're a ******* ugly loveless corpse
absorbed in the self-esteem endorsements
i adorned
& orphaned
on your doorstep...
you adopted it but dropped it quick
the first birth on your
abortion list
cut the cord legitimate
so i've gained bleeding fetus freedom
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 7:50 PM UTC
Heart attack man lies, fallen
Splayed out like the Vitruvian da Vinci .
The sidewalk his bed of lilies,
while a woman cries over him.
Another man, in a wife beater, kneels down
and starts compressions.
His face turning blue, the same color blue
as his neck tattoos.
The tattoos disappearing-- causing traffic to stop.
One cop car stops, blocking the intersection.
Lights in eye aching flashes
alert others to the danger.
They flash, "don't look here death is prowling"
in an Aldis lamp language only the subconscious reads.
The man in the wife beater beats compressions on the mans chest
while a Nurse pulls over and another cop shows up with a defibrillator.
His blue face looks like mine, I see the resemblance as I drive past the scene.
He's nearly my age and I figure there is enough help.
Just drive on past like its another day.
I try not to tell myself, as I pass the blue faced ghost with the neck tattoos
just standing in shock,
"Whatever you do, do not make eye contact."
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 4:07 PM UTC
is how long
it took the
paramedics
the whole while
we breathed into
you
pumping your still
chest, counting
beats
we brought you
back for a
moment
our eyes met
you gave us
permission
to let you
go but we’re
stubborn
and never stopped
breathing, compressions
counting
pupils dilated, stained
bed and us
failures
[Note: This poem was originally published by _Cadence Collective_: https://cadencecollective.net/2014/11/01/fourteen-minutes/-]
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 4:25 AM UTC
How long did you lie there?
Crumpled like discarded waste
Slowly decaying into ash, so
Putrid not even the vultures dare feast.
Did you wait with your body?
Slowly seeping from soft flesh,
Not yet ready to relinquish your grip,
Little fleshy slugs coiling up;
Their heads peaking sideways.
Hands clasp, molding tissue.
Clay so susceptible to indentations,
Yet you had never recognized,
How faulty these compressions are.
How did you realize?
Symmetrical bone understands
What she never will
One palm embraces another,
Knows what hers cannot.
Are we made to intertwine?
When she found you, we waited.
Placing those worms amongst the dirt,
But you found no comfort.
Maggots deliver messages
But the larva is poor with snail mail.
So let go.
Time to understand has long passed.
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 11:15 PM UTC
Sometime after midnight
A chilling sound fills the house
The noise of people yelling
In the distance sirens sound
From the bedroom I peek out
What’s that laying on the floor
Slowly I move closer
A cold feeling fills the air
Much to my horror
I see my dad laying there
His skin was grayish white
His eyes rolled back in his head
My mother yelled to my father
Please don’t leave comeback
In what seemed a flash
The furniture went flying
The room was filled with people
And my mother stood there crying
They did the chest compressions
They breathed into his lungs
But still he did not respond
Or come back to the ones he loved
The paddles were charged
One... two... three... clear
Again and again they tried
But it appeared to no avail
They put him on the gurney
And wheeled him out the door
Loaded him into the ambulance
But something was wrong
The siren didn’t sound
The ambulance didn’t move
What the hell was going on
They never did that before
My mother crying said to us kids
Go quick put on some clothes
We’re all going to the hospital
Wait we’ve never gone before
We quickly got into the car
Rushed behind the ambulance
We pulled into the hospital
Watched them rush the gurney in
We waited for what seemed forever
In the hospital waiting room
At last the doctor came out
But by his look we knew
He looked into my mother’s eyes
Said we did everything we could
But there was no bringing him back
I ‘m so sorry to all of you
They took us back to see him
So we could say goodbye
I approached the bed cautiously
With tears falling from my eyes
There were tubes in his mouth
And wires coming off his chest
His skin was white and cold
His lips were blue and cracked
I didn’t want to let him go
But they said that we must leave
I felt a part of me died that night
As they dragged me from the room
I wish I would have said goodnight
And how much that I loved you.
Jun 14, 2010
Jun 14, 2010 at 6:45 PM UTC
Hour 20:
The white walls soffocating me,
I'm a walking zombie
and a hero wannabe.
The background sounds
beep, beep, beep
and I just wanna sleep.
I have a worried mother
whose child has fever,
and a not-so-hurt drunk driver
that tonight became a killer.
A 40 year old that's been coughing a few days
and thought of coming to the ER at 4am
because, hey, they are probably not so busy anyways.
I like my job,
and I love saving lives,
but God knows I have to put in order mine.
A heart has stopped in bed number nine,
chest compressions and meds don't make it beat,
I don't want to, but I gotta call it.
A teenager needs stitches,
she's making a mess,
apparently her scar is more important than anyone else.
A few more hours and I can go home,
time is passing slowly.
Hey, look! There is the sun!
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
The doctor closed the fist-shaped hole
Of your absence,
With little black knots,
*"Come back in six months;
We'll check up on you"*
I'm sitting on the table,
But there is no doctor.
There is me and there is you.
You're whispering
Sweet nothings into my ear,
And tearing my stitches out,
One by one.
I can see the hole again-
"Code Blue"
Only it's not blue,
Your eyes are green.
And I when I wake up later,
You're back.
I try to talk, but you interrupt-
you tell me I'm pretty.
"Begin compressions"
Blood is everywhere.
Months pass.
You are lying in bed next to me;
You kiss me on the mouth.
"Charge to 300"
You are gone.
Please don't come back.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 1:37 AM UTC
We met as two broken vases
Holding the brittle remains of
Roses never received.
Bruised and scarred, one from
Thinking love is pain, one
From finally seeing that it
Isn't.
Colliding drunk drivers on an
Empty Lover's Lane, both
Alternating between the roles of
Victim and rescue worker,
Mouth-to-mouth and chest
Compressions;
Caresses.
Blue eyes blue lights,
The taste of the blood of the other
As comforting a comfort as any to
Any parched vampire.
We leave the scene as we have
Many: Covered in type O negative
And hope.
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 2:05 PM UTC
Pressed into the issue is my neck into the block
They said "you'd lose your head if you 'unhinged' it" so they'd mock
I'm set to wreck defenses of the bets deception in the case of my detected
degradation in the path of my elation
waiting for annihilation is my sense of violation
I define the vices as a time to track, stack, and counteract my existential missile crisis
Dress this deflected duress invented by these compressions
and pulsing bloodlines distressed, with toxic vision's direction
Repeating the motions but coming short with the payoff
I'm stacking foundations, but the proof seems a way off
I've said to myself I've ordered glory by priority
If it's lost in the mail, good ******* luck with conformity
Candle ends burning and hold my crest til it's fallen
Burn the witch at the stake, cut my head at the block
I'm holding out for the truth, and keeping this as my rock
Your pilgrimage building, and running off with complacence
I'll make a Mission of me, my temple and my new nascence.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 11:57 PM UTC
Reflected in the tin foil
Of time lapse catatonic compressions
"I am the noble Hunter "
Hurdeling the casualties of uncercumspect confessions
When civility becomes the unruly masterpiece
Of a nobody candid enough to verify That the ones who choose to vilify
By paying homage to the usurper
Who... By premeditated lies and false alibis
Seeks to mend that which no one can defend
By ubiquitous and precient endearment Seeking ...to corner the homecoming faculty
With the latest Mantra
Of intersecting idealistic
Yet unrealistic
Expectations
Of a nobody who seeks nobility
As time lapse catatonic compressions Reflected in that wrinkled tin foil
Civility reconstructed
As so many of those inducted
Become the casualties
Of uncircumspect confessions
Flickering impressions
Released in the latest psychiatric sessions
For I am the noble hunter
Idealistic yet unrealistic
In my expectations
But I think.... I think I'm getting better getting better
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 7:15 PM UTC
playing the ***** at a puppet cocktail party
couldn’t be an easier audience
but my check is still in the mail
saving a skinny woman with chest compressions
single-handedly so-to-speak
i wasn’t alone but i’ll take the credit
the others were weak, i was going heavy
and that’s when she came back
resurrecting my villain for the TV series Heroineburgh
an afternoon shoot with 3 young ladies in tight spandex
acting!
saving another woman with team compressions
went on for 60 minutes before her heart reignited
a christmas miracle
though i unplugged her 2 days later
continuous seizures
getting 3 of my 4 bands on one compilation
that and a quarter would give me a quarter
falling off my bike twice in 5 minutes
car ran a red light, then got doored in the bike lane
today was the first day my sprained wrist allowed pushups
(helps with those chest compressions)
making a money hat for the video i’m shooting for the Dumplings
they’re the Rolling Stones of my favorite bar
went to a hypnotist at the Fringe Fest
failing to get hyponotized
"you were obviously resisting," said my wife
i don’t know
i think i’m just obviously me
playing my ***** on a movie stage
for 8 second segments with the movie
don’t ask
we made $96 and bought tacos for $95
now i’m listening to my swinging new louis prima album
reflecting on this groovy month of spring
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 2:32 PM UTC
Words cannot explain the way I feel
at this moment.
I watched you die, I watched you
slip from this life.
Chest compressions, nurses on top
of your hospital bed giving you
CPR and trying to save your life.
It took you five hours to die-
3 critical codes. cardiac arrest.
I saw your heart, the echocardiogram
Your heart was beating so slowly,
I could barely watch what was happening
outside of the emergency room.
I felt numb, I felt nothing;
in the moment, I couldn't feel
a **** thing.
I have cried many times and
I feel absolutely guilty for going
out to dinner, and spending time
with friends and family without
you here.
I know you wouldn't want me
to stop living my life.
But by god do I feel guilty for
trying to live my life.
This poem isn't eloquent or even
beautiful. However, I feel I had to
release this pain I've been feeling.
It's as though a knife has cut straight
down from my chest to my stomach.
This pain is inconsistent-
heart disease is so common
Most people don't even think
about it until they are in the same
situation.
I can't write anymore,
if I do I'll end up falling apart.
© 2016 Christina Jackson
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 12:52 AM UTC
Girl's got me crushing so hard
I'm like a black hole
Pressure bulding up
On all sides
The compressions so thorough
That even the light dies
And gets ****** inside
And i cant even hide!
Not that I'd want to
My heartbeat
Fretfully flutters
Like its fighting to fly free
From my chest
Breathlessly waiting
For just one glance
Notice me.....
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 6:41 PM UTC
I got into a car accident today
My fear is rooted in the familiarity that I found
As we collided and in the wavering second after--
As my body stilled
In the sound of the metal crunching from a forward force
And the thump-like drop
That shot from my throat straight to the bottom of my stomach
The sudden compression of metal has startling similarities;
To those same compressions that reside in a realm of loose thoughts
The tension of my fibers contracting into each other
Reaps an illusion of protection
My left leg experienced a shocking pulse of pressure--
One which did not linger
My eyes took position;
Readying themselves to flow
Before the impact my mouth released--
Three
Small
Pitched
Words…
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 8:42 AM UTC
*More than a mystery of nature
these severe compressions show us
the extremes of the seeming separate self
of the ego triumphant..
Not separate though but as we
embedded in consciousness whole..
The black hole waiting for evaporation
and new awakening
as a wave in the ocean
as we in our longing
find Real composition...*
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 11:18 AM UTC
in times as ours
sharp compressions
pinch our insides..
and mirror
perfect storms outside..
these our possessions
our very own
black holes
out there
in here..
all seeking room
to transmute relieve..
a birthing rise
a burdened delight
a Flow introduced...
our toruSelf...
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 11:19 AM UTC
lights flare and colour
the compressions of mislaid understanding
they turn like
spring without flowers
and spin like
winter without snow
they vacate like faded
concrete and burn like
wasted, pressing aisles
they sway like promises
of heartbreak, and crumple
like sharp, reflected whispers
they move like
formless shadows and
imagine like closeness
to you
—i bend:
throbbing
dully
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 5:37 PM UTC
Relying on someone for all your happiness is like giving breaths to a C.P.R. dummy and expecting him to get up and thank you for all the breaths and chest compressions you just gave him.
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 9:02 PM UTC
*Compress
1,2,3,4,.....28,29,30
Breathe, resume compressions
1,2,3,4....*
That's how it was
Compress the 30, breathe
Do as told, repeat
*fight the cage
break the wings
compress the 30, then breathe*
Continue to bang against the door
Slam into it so hard, pass out, hit the floor
*fight the cage
break the wings
compress the 30, then breathe*
How long has this gone on
When can I admit it's done
*fight the cage
break the wings
compress the 30, then breathe*
Finally out
The door came free
Time of death
August first, two thousand fifteen
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 3:55 PM UTC
I've grown aware that my brain
is tuned incorrectly.
The antenna that detects frequencies
(art, truth, and death turn things to marble)
of screams and whispers and noise
sticks out obscenely. Pornographically.
Sometimes I give in to it
and thread myself along its wires,
intertwining with the sharp ambiance.
My heart beats faster
An unholy fusion
And I contract, deliciously,
Undulating with the compressions in the air.
They light up the silent ******** scream
coursing through my veins.
Would he have liked it here?
Or would he have sat
Unobtrusively, as I do now
and longed to feel the surf lap against his toes?
Dec 20, 2019
Dec 20, 2019 at 4:22 PM UTC
***
I’d love to rediscover *** with you
Recreate it
Give it a new meaning
I want to learn how to have *** all over again - with you
Ma’am
My attention is on you
This class involves an interactive conversation of more than words
My lips
They will cease to speak but my hands won’t
Your skin and mine need to have a very important conversation
If you turn the page, you will see that I am in love with you. From the start of this sexbook to the last page, you’ll notice that each page is laced with the lace you wear when class is about to start
Class is in session
My attention is my affection so forgive me if I’m practical about my understanding
Theoretically, two are meant to become one without subtraction - it could be a fraction - not mathematically, just according to you and me
Class is in session
Mouth to mouth
You’d think I’m saving your life but you’re the one taking my breath away
Chest compressions turn thrusts
Chest to hips
Mouth to mouth turns to mouth to lips
You’d swear that one was drowning
Class is in session
I struggle to pay attention
It gets different when I have to articulate my understanding to your pleasure
It gets different when my grades are judged on your response
Class is in session
Physical Ed has never been this physical
I’m trying make sense of your moist skin
It went from sweats to streams of your satisfaction dripping down my lips like I just had a meal that left my mouth watering
Class is in session
I’m open to correction
Wherever you hands lead me, I’ll follow
I don’t usually ask, but do you swallow?
It’s not a prerequisite
As long as it fits
Class is in session
My attention is my affection so forgive me if I’m practical about my understanding
Your body is a runway
I plan to land
Your smile lighting up the way
Your eyes - my destination
Class is in session
I love you
I love everything about you
Recreating moments of intimacy will be one class I don’t mind repeating
This is the one class where being bad, is good
Your body
The memo to this test
Straight A’s
Class is in session
I’ve studied you
From head to toe
Physically
I’ve memorized what you look like even on days when your skin seeks refuge in your wardrobe
I’ve watched you grow
I’ve learned to love you seasonally
I’ve learned to love you with the warmth of summer on cold winter days
I’ve learned to Spring to your rescue when your leaves fall
I’ve been dying to make love to you
Spiritually
Emotionally
Psychologically
Ultimately, physically
Class is in session
If I promise to love you and make love to you like I’m falling in love with you daily, would promise to love me while making love to you daily?
Class is in session
Life’s toughest lesson was living without you
That’s a class I hope to never take again
Aug 6, 2020
Aug 6, 2020 at 5:33 PM UTC
He's bleeding, he's dying, His mother is crying,
Organized chaos we're trying to revive him but my hands just keep sliding,
Keep pushing more drugs and he's fighting, wait, now he's flat-lining,
Can't find a good vein from years of mainlining,
Shock one, two, shock three, for time borrowed not buying,
We can't stop the bleeding from holes we aren't finding,
Doc checks the clock so I know he's deciding, how much longer we go
when the seconds are flying but he just won't stop bleeding, his body is crying,
Call it,
Stop compressions,
Time of death...
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 2:25 PM UTC