"novocain" poems
Nothingness.
Imagine nothingness.
That nothingness which is nothing of the nothingness we are all familiar with:
Not that nothingness which is nothing but empty space and time
Like when you open an empty room.
No.
That nothingness where nothing truly exists:
Not space,
Not even time.
A singular point.
Imagine a singular point.
The ultimate singular point that contains all possible points
In the development of the universe
Come out and expand
From the birthing of time, the instance of The Big Bang,
(Which by the way is not a large explosion, as the words imply, but a silent rapid expansion)
Pushing the envelope
Where nothingness begins.
Chance.
Imagine chance.
The random occurrence of events:
Of fundamental particles colliding and uniting
Or annihilating each other,
Giving rise to protons, neutrons and electrons;
Giving rise to the periodic table,
To compounds, both organic and inorganic,
To macromolecules.
Billions of years.
Imagine billions of years
Gone by,
And billions of galaxies filling the sky:
Stars and quasars and pulsars
Planets and comets and meteors
***** nilly hurtling through
Dark matter and ever expanding space,
Yet inanimate still
,
A single cell.
Imagine a single cell
Form inexplicably so,
In a staggeringly highly improbable way
As carbon molecules combine,
Start to throb and pulsate:
Chance bringing forth life
In a barren and otherwise
Lifeless universe.
Consciousness
Imagine consciousness
Purposive, willful, deliberate
Feelings
Imagine feelings
Love, compassion, hatred
Imagine all in a universe that came out of itself from nothingness.
It is hard, of course,
For after all, we are creatures of somethingness!
But at this point
You must have seen the Point
Of all the ramblings and turns in the trajectory of my thought
Tracing the evolutionary course of the universe
From nothingness and that singular point
That without God
All things are
After all
Pointless!
.
And so,
Let us not deplore, as a great poet once did,
That this world “so various, so beautiful, so new
Hath no joy, nor love, nor light
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain…”
For what else should we expect
Of a cold, unfeeling universe?
What?
Give us some Novocain?
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 4:36 PM UTC
Live by the sun; feel by the moon.
The sun has set; a rainy night in early June.
Numb as novocain,
Emotions pouring out like rain.
I can dream of spreading my wings, just flying away.
But I have to get behind the wheel, take on life’s highway.
Even with roads so dark and dreary, wet and slick…
There’s something calling me into the night, calling me quick.
The promise of feeling again lingers at the end of the road.
After all this time an answer, solution…a crack to the code.
But life never projects a straight shooting path…
Sometimes we are meant to slip, or maybe even crash.
Even so, the road splits…to burn out or start walking?
I take a breath, remember the moon…remember who’s talking.
One foot in front of the other… no sense in hesitation.
The sun will bring about another day, re-genesis of my own imagination.
Misty rain kisses my face as a struggle to walk tenaciously.
Feigning for the strength to accept these obstacles graciously.
One step, two steps; pro, cons:
One foot, two miles; pro, cons…and so on.
Just when my heart couldn't feel much colder,
A warm ray pokes at my shoulder.
Tapping back into reality at hand,
I kick off my shoes and let my toes twinkle in the sand.
The moon is low, now behind me, yet always hanging around.
& Before me the sun making an entrance, glistening against the dancing ocean sound.
An epiphany swims ashore.
Another day: to live, to reflect, & to unveil the reason we do it all for.
Embrace life; stay in tune.
Live by the sun; feel by the moon.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 1:20 AM UTC
Pure cane sugartar that sits on teeth,
sits on a canine porch swing
and swings too far, kicking the enamel
siding, wood knots, and greying-thin
windows. More exposed than Brad
Pitt's marriage or JonBenét Ramsay
on the cover of Old World News Daily
in the dentist's office. And there we
are. We're bleached white and burning
beneath paparazzi bulbs and a
a ****** case. Brief case money/
two thousand fourteen and it's still
relevant, still useful blood money.
Novocain lightning flash; burn a tree.
Cali home tucked behind parsley
palms. Fortune teller, baby, O.J. didn't
do it. Not The Juice, not him.
The gloves. The gloves. The gloves.
Comfort of picket fence rainbrushed
paint stripping. Raymour retail
of a mocha-cushion couch half-off
'cause the back's spattered with
toothpaste and taxpayer juice
like Grandma's cancer handbag.
Put your feet up, stay a while.
Don't leave.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 10:14 AM UTC
I want to
feel nothing for you.
I want to
soak myself in Novocain
when you pass me on the street.
I want to
not be blown away by the way
your hips shift when you walk .
I want to
delete memories of you
like they were data on a disk.
I want to
shove you so deep into a crowded backpack.
That thousands of years could pass
before I found you.
I want to
be like the neutered dog
able to **** away and away
with no consequence.
I want to
close my eyes and think of anything else
literally anything else
like dead bodies decaying
or something along those lines.
I want to
be free from your chains
and I mean that.
You don't seem to understand that
but I do.
Mean it.
Believe me.
I want to feel nothing for you.
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 4:07 PM UTC
Consuming devastation
as if it's life-giving bread
Flesh, a merciless master
Ineffectual thoughts sway my head
With each indulgence
the captor becomes more emboldened
Betraying the true master
to whom I'm beholden
Surrender comes easier
with each new concession
Just one more link
in the chain of spiritual recession
Slaking every desire
as the senses grow cold
While the battle rages
between body and soul
One will be nurtured
the other put under thumb
Sin is spiritual Novocain
just making me numb
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 5:00 PM UTC
Dylan got it first, as he often did,
That American youth were ignorant kids,
Betrayed by the things our parents hid.
And we were insulted just a little bit
But we listened and took the plunge,
Determined to expunge
The poison and let out the Id.
It was up to us not heed the call up
And as one voice we stood up,
Saying, shouting NO!
Twenty or so legendary years for some;
While others sold out, we beat the drum.
Our peers oddly died around us but….
Even as we ‘felt those cold hands’ touch our skin,
As The Capitalists were closing in—
& Some of them were us…
We sounded the drum.
Later on some hippie-punks or is it the other way(?)
Sang about extraordinary girls & then took a fall.
Sometimes begged for Novocain
Which wouldn’t relieve psychic pain,
Like being Ramonely sedated in a concert hall.
Nobody knew what to do with them.
Except to give them fame.
(It was just as bad for them as for the Clash)…
Hell, they almost invented the mash-up.
And too many anti-hippie punks
Loaded on cheap ****** or always drunk,
Claimed all those heroes had sold out.
But Ziggy would’ve known Ash from Ash.
Then came their Blood on the Tracks;
They finally saw what Dylan saw,
Or, if they saw it before,
They got some Real Emotion back.
Nothing has changed and everything has changed,
Said The Heathen…and he should know.
But how do we see, stuck here ‘so far below’,
Not remotely in the know;
They might be on an intergalactic trip
Or as in “A.I”, nothing more than a binary blip?
But encased in virtual ice, how can we live?
Until the end…and even then…
As John wrote, we only get the love we give.
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 1:28 PM UTC
The still English heat,
The ***** promise of July the 1st
Leaves the grass a mottled yellow
And the dappled shade of the purple birch
Almost holy.
Specks of precise and glittering pollen
Rest upon beds of browning foxgloves.
Cats are left collapsed,
Blissed out, lulled into dreams
of this motionless sun shining forever.
I feel your hands in my stomach
And I'm hungry for your grip
As the hot sky only ripens
My daydreams of your laugh.
The thick scent of withering hyacinth
Is the curve of your back,
the taste of your sweat.
A stain of certainty is baked in
By July the 1st.
Novocain for my infected English heart.
Whispering the start of a love that will be
kicking leaves through October
And sharing warmth through December.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 7:34 AM UTC
The freedom stored in the metal of a syringe
Brings fire to the hollow point that breaks the skin.
Secular glory in the pipe of faith
Supplies the habitual drag that you would take.
The endless hallucination is real; it seems-
As you wake up in the chair, realizing the dream.
A happy-gas mask was placed on your nose.
The uncomfortable state the dentist chair sustains
Gives birth to the pain.
A tooth is pulled without Novocain-
Doesn’t this resemble the average life we live?
Because you dream of the syringe that should break your skin.
Jun 26, 2010
Jun 26, 2010 at 10:26 AM UTC
Gossamer ghosts
Of what is longed for
In the soul
An ideal tried
To be forgotten
With the aid of poison
And the thump of a beat
Woken by
The thump of a book
Slamming the desk
Bringing me back to
Heavy boots
A heavier heart
The long for a fresh start
And still no resolve
No solution or direction
My loneliness spreading like a
Contagious infection
Except it goes
Past the clock
Over the line
And it
Cuts
So deep
But I’m too numb to notice
Like Novocain
Piercing my brain
While my eyes
Ice over
And my feet shuffle
To the beat
Of silence
I float for hours
A balloon unattached
But no holiday here
Trying to feel concrete in where
I stand
And though my boots are heavy
They don’t stick
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 5:12 PM UTC
Words that were not meant to hurt me pierced through me like a million tiny needles filled with Novocain.
It was not really pain at all.
With those words replaying in my mind, over, and over, the circumstances slowly began to sink in. When I finally worked up the will I could not get my fingers to move as I tried to type my reply.
I was numb.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
I blanket my mind
Blurry my view
And nothing but
Fuzzy faces
Fluorescent lights
The hum
Of inane static noise
Envelope my head
Like a shot of Novocain
With the sweet
Sense of distance
Disorientation
Is the only destination
For a world with a compass
Spinning out of control
But to let go
Is to fling into space
Slowly suffocate
And fade away
But the problem is
I
Don't
Care.
Compass
Please fly me
Away from here
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 7:57 PM UTC
Learned more from this pain than i ever did from a church.
Listening to your gut but make sure you detox it first.
**** be killin me softly, leave me in a Hearse,
Never a good thing when i hear from you first.
Be careful what you see,
even salt look like sugar,
Maturity is not throwing salt when you know you could've,
And not smackin ******* when you know you should've.
People Be like "oh i miss you"
**** i miss me too.
Had to use these teflon tissues to get me thru,
You not alone, **** i wanna be with me too,
Deadass On some days , smiles were too good to be true.
I be business minded when i be minding my business.
And ****** be ******* and ******* be on some ***** ****
Overcame this novocain,
Recasted the impression of depression,
Ring around the rosary,
Never relying on religion.
Im from a home of funny bones
And My elbows been ashy,
I knew It would take more than macaroni art to kraft me,
And i been itching for this platform
If you ask me,
I used to wonder if i was a real person.
I used to wonder like what's my real purpose?
When i was young ,I taught my shadow to stick to my toes,
When lifes a battle, I fought to stick to mottos.
As a poet i never looked at it this way,
I never booked myself for this reading.
I was overbooked.
I bookmarked my favorite moments ,
I been forever overlooked.
And never understood what "more" ment,
I been overcooked.
The preheating of this season left me bleeding.
This farenheit left me heavy breathin
No fear of heights but Excuse me while I fall from
- grace -
me with your presence and
These broken promises,
Never been transparent to this degree,
Had to leave that monster house.
That was my American horror story.
I used to be couped up,
Had to tell double d to get outta my laboratory,
See mfs want my jazz but not my blues,
They Wanna be in my class but aint payed they dues,
Yall be Morally incorrect,
....More or less...
Lately i been Moralless,
Need to get saved no church bells ,
Put me on the zach Morris list,
These rhymes be like my confessions,
Front row seat to my ascension,
Carry out this life to which we've been sentenced,
Delivery me from evil - with even more incentives,
I dream in MLA format.
Double spaced a letter to my younger self,
Just some **** I wish i told the older me
A ***** laundry list of things I thought ought to be owed to me,
My OCD be blowin me,
Need all my ducks in a row,
My prolonged silence been leading this Crescendo,
Im not playing NO GAMES, fuxk you and your Nintendo.
Mar 10, 2021
Mar 10, 2021 at 10:00 PM UTC
Who are you in the in-between?
"Love."
a title. italics space don't forget the paragraph please...
odd space new
face teeth eyes memories
and how to
reconcile?
the odd shimmer of spirits between
the used up
and the still yet
undiscovered
how do you jump
twice
without tugging the dentist's sleeve
to issue: fervent plea.
Novocain?!
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 12:03 PM UTC
With a voice as liquid and soothing as zzzquil
Skin as smooth and calming as a depressant
Give me a high dosage of you, ignore the label don't consume with alcohol, and inject me with your love.
With lips as numbing and dangerous as Novocain
With a smile as tempting and breathtaking as a stimulant
But it was your hands that had me quarantined from any other woman
Because they weren't labeled contagious but they were infected with your love.
But **** I swear the only cure I need is More of you.
I don't know what category that love falls under a syndrome or illness
But it is crippling and the thought of you being with someone else is like having acid in my stomach
And this love is toxic because it mutates and its a disease that spreads and I swear its taken my brain and formed fatal thoughts
But no matter what the damage to my brain has been caused
I will always remember you
Because when love causes you hurt
The stitches may be pulled
But the scars always stay
And so will you.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 4:17 PM UTC
Synthetic leather cupping my head
while i'm inverted by a switch.
This is getting old.
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 4:56 PM UTC
Watch me make things complicated
It’s a gift
So much a gift I never got much further than long division
Or tying my shoes
Or learning when it’s okay to touch people
Turns out
Life is not the game of tag I thought it was
Not everyone touches you back
Never learned that
Gets so bad
I break handshakes for hugs
and then I stand there way to long
I can never go back to my dentist’s office again
After he finally pried me from his shoulders
He was kind enough to loosen the foot in my mouth
Told me I got toes for teeth
And I was thankful
For the suction tube
And the Novocain
Asked him for more
And more
Just enough to numb the jabber in my jaw
Took 2 vicadin after to keep my arms at bay
If I could have
I’d’a told him
Every word burnin holes in my brain
And I am thankful
Knowing that I’d’ve at least stopped at long division
And tying my shoes
I never learned how
not to say all the wrong things
Never really learned anything
May 16, 2011
May 16, 2011 at 9:44 PM UTC
Novocain hurts me,
snowflakes burn me.
Give me ********
but give it softy.
Run to me slowly,
warm up coldly.
Leave me be,
so I'm not lonely.
Can i borrow your time of day?
I've wasted mine away.
Can i use your hands to hold me?
Can i borrow your soul to pray?
Can i swim inside your ocean,
or do we have low tides today?
Can't listen to your mouth right now,
your eyes have more to say.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 10:13 PM UTC
When I was six years old
My father let me watch the Omen.
For the three months that followed
I was convinced I was the antichrist.
Every morning I would stand on the step stool
In front of the bathroom mirror
And scour my scalp
For the imprint of 666.
Not even the devil wanted me as his.
For years I thought I was adopted
Because my hair isn’t straight like theirs,
My skin isn’t clear like theirs.
My legs stretch like sunflower stalks
While theirs wilt
Like tulips after spring.
It turns out
Genetics is a lottery
And I did not win.
My body is 90% wishbone
And 5% muscle.
I can’t do a pushup
But god am I good at daydreaming.
I run out of breath after walking up a flight of stairs
But my spine is made out of wind chimes.
My mother once told me
I was the easiest child to take care of.
I didn’t cry, I didn’t scream.
It wasn’t until I was 15
And leaking novocain onto the kitchen floor
That my pent up music
Shattered the wine glasses.
I cleaned every bit of crystal up
And no one knew about my symphony.
I wear my secrets like shawls.
Everyone compliments the pattern,
Ask if I made them myself.
I say “a girl I know helped me.
She is the reason I am where I am today”.
They ask if they know this girl
And if she can make them one.
I say, “caged birds don’t give free birds directions”.
I lay in the bathtub
And push my head underneath.
I listen to the steady ticking
Of the bomb wired in my chest.
Its only a matter of time.
Run. Take cover.
Leave me to the ashes.
Maybe we’ll find out I am a phoenix.
Maybe we’ll find out I am just another girl.
Another swan feather kissing the river.
Maybe this will be a wakeup call.
Maybe metaphors aren’t band aids
And maybe stanzas aren’t gauze.
Or maybe god really does exist,
His home just isn’t in the clouds.
Maybe I am god.
Maybe god is home and I am finally home.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 7:38 PM UTC
She is tired of fighting, sick and tired of changes
Weary of the battles, the struggles and the challenges
She left so much, just to possess so little
Limping from holding on at every single angle
Faith came from the fight, now it is night
And she is exhausted, despite having a dim light
Holding on to her little faith for so very long
Clutching it tight, even singing it a song
Her faith cries out, her little faith screams out
Still young but giving everything out in a shout
But she is without concerned. Her pain is stronger
Holding on to her faith seems to make the pain linger
...So, she rocks her faith to sleep
She wants the pain to be numbed with aspirin
Knowing that there's no cure, but a brief separation
Like a bad toothache, she desires Novocain
Anything to relieve her from life's constant pain.
She now became apathetic. Her fire flickered out.
Unfulfilled promises and failed expectations about
How things will be better, how good life will be
But instead she is faced with constant trials and misery.
Wanting something so bad, but cannot get it.
Desiring a change, but it fails to manifest.
So the best thing to do when your heart is sore
From not getting what you want is not to want it anymore
...So, she rocks her faith to sleep
Suppressed her desires into the bed of her unconscious
Covering sheets of darkness over something so precious.
Her faith: covered in darkness, now out of sight.
Then she turned off all hope when she turned off the light.
Allowing her fears to surround her precious faith
That is under the sheet of darkness that resembles lace
Because she lived a life of promises, chasing a dream
But it was so troublesome that she wanted to scream.
Now walking in utter darkness, no hope or ambitions
Just one with her carnal desires and temptations.
Her faith, teary eyed and whimpering, at last closed its eye
And she closed the door of her heart, leaving it inside
And in there is where her faith still slumber
While she lives without a dream, failing to persevere.
Thought that life would be better, but instead
Is living a life similar to being brain dead
...Since, she rocked her faith to sleep
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 8:42 AM UTC
The days pass and I remain,
Remain now only slightly insane,
The strain starts to fade but my heart always feels the pain,
You were like Novocain,
You took it all away,
if only you would stay,
I'd be grateful if it were only a day,
But I guess that day isn't today.
Aug 17, 2011
Aug 17, 2011 at 1:52 PM UTC
I finally unblocked you on Facebook
Sounds childish to say at 22, but it was a big step
The only line of communication we've had
Dammed up like the hoover
Time, hard at work with his Pick Axe, finally broke through
And the raging warm water flushed my finger tips
Excited
Nervous
Angry
There he is
Unblock
Click
Scroll
Last Post: Dec 30, 2014
3 years ago
My Birthday, 3 years ago
The 3rd one he missed
He did manage to share a sports post
For a team I am positive he doesn't even like
I'm less than a sports team he doesn't even like
It's not so bad, really
I owe him a lot
Without him, I wouldn't be who I am today
Growing up without a father teaches you to wear shoulder-pads, and to check your gloves for holes
I know where to find the best prices on cleats specifically crafted to keep a heart from slipping when it goes through ****
I've become the epitome of masculinity
Numb without Novocain
Tear ducts run as dry at the Nile will, Circa 2095
Your impact to my ecosystem as devastating as throwaway plastic
Am I your throw away plastic?
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 11:40 AM UTC
A whispy hand reaches down to flip over a bronze device of tremendous proportions
Numb is all she feels
As she sees her life s
p
n i
i g r
l a
Out of control.
The only life this girl has ever known
Has been ripped out
Like a rug
Right beneath her feet.
Now, knowing the foreseeable future uncertain,
She feels so much more than numb.
Loneliness, sorrow fill this only child's ****** cavities,
To where the Novocain smiles and laughs of the sun are blessings,
But the sobering dark is a curse.
For only now has this teenage girl set her roots in deep,
Gotten attached to the life
That now proves so temporary,
Flimsy like a piece of paper.
Social nuances and schoolwork
No longer seem to matter in the grand scheme of things,
I'll be gone soon enough, she thinks...
It's best to detach early
From this ephemeral life,
So maybe it won't hurt so much
When it's all blown away,
Like cigarette smoke in the wind.
Lonliness drives itself into her bones,
Trapping the girl in her own internal world.
One which says
"It doesn't matter anymore."
*The golden sand of the bronze hourglass slips on,
As I slip away...
Begging for a new life,
But praying the old will stay.*
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 12:44 AM UTC
love on your lips
like Novocain
we speak the words,
feel nothing.
we smile and laugh,
the coroners dance
the smell of death
it lingers
breathing shadows
burning tributes
to the idols
that they worship
And you wonder
why my evenings are better spent alone.
I live.
I bleed.
I'm on my ****** knees
I break.
I cry.
I fall.
I fly.
you've already died.
you breathing shadow.
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 12:14 AM UTC
There lives the sweetest ignorance deep inside lies
like a parent giving consolation during a hurricane
because sin is easy on the conscious when nobody believes in heaven or hell.
Grey matter, brains neither black nor white,
gasping for air in a world where we've lost the ability to feel
empathy like novocain, stares and strangers with eyes lacking love
waiting to die young and become raised up like a martyr
instead of living the everyman's life.
Self doubt, the most beautiful of all flowers, like blood from a rose thorn's *****
pumping through bodies. The man and his guitar on the street corner,
dressed in his Sunday best, each note a silent prayer.
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 8:02 PM UTC
I’m numb. It’s probably the anaesthesia
The doctor gave me.
All it did was make me feel more numb.
Morphine, aspirin, Novocain.
No medication makes me feel once again.
It’s an empty void of nothingness
******* in any chance of retaliation.
I’m not cold, nor hot, but lukewarm;
A middle ground for breeding apathy
And so begins my heart’s atrophy.
I think of you, iridescent in your own light,
And I’m halfway ready to annihilate
The destructive force dwelling in me.
I’d asked myself this once before
But I can’t remember the answer anymore:
Can you make me feel again?
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 10:54 AM UTC