Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"novocaine" poems
Dear Pickle, You are making my face sour. Mom is mad at you for skipping school and I have to talk her down again. Maybe next time you can write me a 1200 word essay on "How stupid your decisions are", So I can mark it up with red pen before you lose grades on your ribs. Sister, you need to calm your *** down, because the world isn't a race and the underdog doesn't always come in first, or even second. But take a second to stop breathing that smoke you call air, everybody is choking on the smell of teen-spirit. The tattoos not yet ingaved in your skin will serve as a reminder of how you took last place in a family full of sharp broken pieces of glass. I tell Mom "Don't worry, it's just a phase, she just needs a second to find her place, in this world" But, at this rate, I'm not sure you will. Because, people will knock on your door and hand you bottles of quick fixes and Novocaine, and I hope that this poem isn't in vain to serve as a reminder of that little girl that still caught fireflies in her teeth. And I am sorry I left for 3 years without watching your molecules multiply, but I wrote my times tables on the back of my diploma for you to study. That 6 year old girl with woodland creature cheeks hasn't been forgotten. That 6 year old girl who never failed to puke in the car after a glass of milk hasn't been forgotten. That 6 year old girl that cried every time we told anyone you are cat food under the kitchen table hasn't been forgotten. I am sorry, can you bring her back now? And for me, could you stop making Mom cry, she has watered so many Forget-me-nots that I am afraid her roots are drowning. Don't get me wrong. I appreciate all the time you bared swords and shields to defend me against the stereotypes that threatened to staple them themselves to the inside of our cheeks, but come on...get your **** together. We are blood-brothers...with vaginas. Don't you dare break that bond because if you do I will lock you in the closet, turn the lights of and leave you in there screaming and crying until the rebellion leaves your bladder. I'm your sister, not your mother. I will not birth any more brother screw-ups for you to father. Love, Vinegar.
0
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 2:39 PM UTC
A Letter To A Younger Sister
Dear Pickle, You are making my face sour. Mom is mad at you for skipping school and I have to talk her down again. Maybe next time you can write me a 1200 word essay on "How stupid your decisions are", So I can mark it up with red pen before you lose grades on your ribs. Sister, you need to calm your *** down, because the world isn't a race and the underdog doesn't always come in first, or even second. But take a second to stop breathing that smoke you call air, everybody is choking on the smell of teen-spirit. The tattoos not yet ingaved in your skin will serve as a reminder of how you took last place in a family full of sharp broken pieces of glass. I tell Mom "Don't worry, it's just a phase, she just needs a second to find her place, in this world" But, at this rate, I'm not sure you will. Because, people will knock on your door and hand you bottles of quick fixes and Novocaine, and I hope that this poem isn't in vain to serve as a reminder of that little girl that still caught fireflies in her teeth. And I am sorry I left for 3 years without watching your molecules multiply, but I wrote my times tables on the back of my diploma for you to study. That 6 year old girl with woodland creature cheeks hasn't been forgotten. That 6 year old girl who never failed to puke in the car after a glass of milk hasn't been forgotten. That 6 year old girl that cried every time we told anyone you are cat food under the kitchen table hasn't been forgotten. I am sorry, can you bring her back now? And for me, could you stop making Mom cry, she has watered so many Forget-me-nots that I am afraid her roots are drowning. Don't get me wrong. I appreciate all the time you bared swords and shields to defend me against the stereotypes that threatened to staple them themselves to the inside of our cheeks, but come on...get your **** together. We are blood-brothers...with vaginas. Don't you dare break that bond because if you do I will lock you in the closet, turn the lights of and leave you in there screaming and crying until the rebellion leaves your bladder. I'm your sister, not your mother. I will not birth any more brother screw-ups for you to father. Love, Vinegar.
Continue reading...
20
(Hypnos- God of Sleep Eros- God of Love Nyx- Goddess of Night) ME: I closed my eyes And met 3 strangers Whose names I knew but, Could not express. They stood with grace and prowess, Each one grander than the next. They petitioned me to ask them, Anything at all, So I asked them about dreams, Given to us by gods. HYPNOS: A weak internal monologue, Lapsing into night. They sleep and breathe So slowly, They sleep; and breathe so deep. EROS: Their dreams I clouded, Tinged, with crimson haze. They long for one another, They long; To find each other. NYX: The dream ends now! As my darkness overwhelms. They no longer need to think, They drink; As to forget. ME: Pretence keeps up my dreaming, Innerspeaker of my thoughts, Past tense reveals it all: Groundskeeper To my soul. An arrow from your quivers Surely would do the job, Of a thousand Quarts of liqour Or novocaine, or god. NYX: When you see light You will see clearly, The truth of misery. Though I know nothing of such light, The darkness lives in me. EROS: Soon your day will come, To feel as all the rest. The burning fire of passion, Bellowing wild, A fire without smoke. HYPNOS: And now as you awake, Arise! Dear sir, go forth, Knowing of what you learned, In this episode, This dream.
0
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 5:50 PM UTC
Eros, Hypnos, Nyx
when she says she is empty, she is not asking to be filled. stretch her thin and you will see gold peeking through her worn body. stretch her thin and you feel her fire burning what you hold. do not hold her. when she says she is numb, she is not asking to feel something. do not wait out her novocaine mood drooling down her chin. do not wait out her novocaine high she is elated. do not bring her down. she is a bookmark holding someone else's place: do not move her. someone left her, waiting, she does not know the other side: that does not mean you show her. someday she will be fire. she will dry all that she has soaked with her ravine heart. you will follow her black markings to something gold she will be followed. do not be surprised when she does not moan, she will not moan, she does not feel. she is still ice. when she says she is ice do not try to melt her. she will be fire.
0
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 10:46 PM UTC
She is Fire
no novocaine, no experience the nurse on break tells me to "wait right there." the big lights above the pleather chair my pale skin illuminated and glowing under rays of white white light - and I'm tied down like a banded submissive to a blacker than black chair it's only me and invisible monsters in a game of cat mouse tick tock tick tock sweating, I realize I must move there's no other option for this lab rat I feel like All I've ever been, is here - sprawled out in the open hand choked of blood and oxygen I cannot take this    I cannot take this! Something in my mind turns off Something in my mind turns on I chew the soft parts away easiest it slides in my mouth my teeth are cold and wet now Chattering and lurching sounds come from my mouth & teeth as the splinters of bone crackle away in my bite. It took either a minute or a day But it was over. And so, I left it there tied to that black chair. I opened the glass-paneled door with an exit 'bing', and I was happy I never met the Doctor.
0
Apr 5, 2012
Apr 5, 2012 at 1:52 PM UTC
Chewing Through My Arm
Night beckons to strange people. Actually, if you can accept this premise, then the mind makes everyone strange. And still yet, there is something specific about darkness, I cannot put my finger on it, that sends odd sparks of real life on a mission to city street corners. I hide in my car after leaving the café with the hope of seeing, "The Pigtailed Man." This isn't his name. However, I need say no more to any stranger for him to envision my character. We objectify him and his image becomes clear even when spotted in narrowed alleyway darkness. He has a beautiful wife with locks past her shoulder of auburn and lillies, and two wonderfully bright children who sit on his knee when listening to nighty-night, bedtime stories. Their ringing laughter illuminates the darkest corners of their happy home. They'll never know why he needs to go bye-bye at dangerous evening hours, hunting sour scowls from passers-by. He's unkempt: legs unshaven, chin covered by midnight shadow, beer belly hanging over his plaid picnic-basket red schoolgirl skirt, and his face sags as if a topical novocaine was applied generously to his chubby, rosy cheeks. Upon seeing his aimless strut and dead-to-self eyes, I wonder: Where does he dress? Does he put his outfit on from plastic grocery bag around the block from the lamp-lit looks of the neighbors' friendly daytime greetings? More importantly, if I were friend and was to catch him in the act, would I say anything? Darkness calls out the most intriguing creatures. We're afraid to call them "human beings," because being human most certainly does not look like this. Or, does it not look like this? Shadows claw walls around all because not one body projects light. There are some who know, and some who appease. The pigtails hang to his knees as he stares at the mannequins of pretty women in the window of the closed department store.
0
Aug 17, 2012
Aug 17, 2012 at 4:05 AM UTC
A Shadow Will Follow Wherever You Go
Night beckons to strange people. Actually, if you can accept this premise, then the mind makes everyone strange. And still yet, there is something specific about darkness, I cannot put my finger on it, that sends odd sparks of real life on a mission to city street corners. I hide in my car after leaving the café with the hope of seeing, "The Pigtailed Man." This isn't his name. However, I need say no more to any stranger for him to envision my character. We objectify him and his image becomes clear even when spotted in narrowed alleyway darkness. He has a beautiful wife with locks past her shoulder of auburn and lillies, and two wonderfully bright children who sit on his knee when listening to nighty-night, bedtime stories. Their ringing laughter illuminates the darkest corners of their happy home. They'll never know why he needs to go bye-bye at dangerous evening hours, hunting sour scowls from passers-by. He's unkempt: legs unshaven, chin covered by midnight shadow, beer belly hanging over his plaid picnic-basket red schoolgirl skirt, and his face sags as if a topical novocaine was applied generously to his chubby, rosy cheeks. Upon seeing his aimless strut and dead-to-self eyes, I wonder: Where does he dress? Does he put his outfit on from plastic grocery bag around the block from the lamp-lit looks of the neighbors' friendly daytime greetings? More importantly, if I were friend and was to catch him in the act, would I say anything? Darkness calls out the most intriguing creatures. We're afraid to call them "human beings," because being human most certainly does not look like this. Or, does it not look like this? Shadows claw walls around all because not one body projects light. There are some who know, and some who appease. The pigtails hang to his knees as he stares at the mannequins of pretty women in the window of the closed department store.
Continue reading...
49
~ Look at this girl With wildfire eyes, Beautiful flames That will burn you alive. Look at this girl, A tornado in skin. She tears through hell With a bone chilling grin. You think you know That she’s numb to the pain, That novocaine Somehow runs through her veins, But her wildfire eyes Hold tales she won’t tell. Her bone-chilling grin Is just to spite hell. You’ve become passive, So absently blind. Her fiery facade Has convinced you she’s fine. But her wildfire eyes Can’t relieve her lament. Her bone chilling grin Can’t change hell’s torment. She’s dying alive As the fires of hell churn. She’s not fireproof, And she feels every burn. This girl that you see, And her wildfire eyes? They’re beautiful flames, That burn her alive. ~
0
May 17, 2021
May 17, 2021 at 10:09 PM UTC
Wildfire Eyes
Your love is not a hurricane It is not an earthquake It is a sweet, sweet salve to an old heartbreak Your love is not lightning It is not a tidal wave It is a deep, deep breath at the end of a long, hard day Your love is not a fever It's not an addiction It is not my nicotine nitrous Novocaine or nitroglycerin Your love is not suspenseful seismic shellshocking stomach-churning sugar cane saccharine or surprising Every love before you has been a frantic, careful dance of close but not too close honest but not too honest Yet you strange you can look at me from across a room or across a tabletop and there is wonderment, but no wondering passion, but no pondering Defined by choice not whim We always crave the love that is our hurricane Novocaine sugar cane to sap away our pain But what about the love that simply is? Is that what makes it real? Is that what makes love Love?
0
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 8:22 PM UTC
Hurricane, Novocaine, Sugar Cane
Sheepishly held-down dental floss guitar strings and cracked hands like sink-side toothpaste. Cuspid picks in a mint-scented, plastic bag beneath textbooks and a zipper rusted like gingivitis. A backstage house of pamphlets slurred time like novocaine speech. Thirty-two people sat at coffee-stained tables talking about their routines between sips of créme de menthe cocktails and water. Fluoride lyrics dripped from his mouth as people closed theirs.
0
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 2:07 AM UTC
Fluoride Lyrics
You're still breathing But I can't sleep Please don't leave me Please don't leave me Let me hold you And rock you to sleep With lullabies laced with Novocaine Rest in peace Rest in peace I promise I'll be here in the morning Will you? Say you will Say you will
0
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC
Say You Will
August still catches in my head like that Manhattan melody when he was my little vial of Novocaine. when the moon showed her face and we slept on my floor and our knees and hips and shoulders—all the hinges of our bodies—washed with a twilight of mauve and Bordeaux. And one night he painted me with two rows of clenched teeth—dipping in and out of white pools of Selene. I have a bed now that he has left with sheets that billow on the right side, with real blankets that aren't hospital blankets. And he is my little vial of Novocaine that took a train to states away. And the miles between have left me with a weight in my chest that I'm sure fell from his suitcase. I've got bones made of buildings, and a metropolitan heart, and a steady smile knowing this same moon hangs over him and that borough.
0
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 4:12 PM UTC
Floors
I’m the one who walks a lonely road the only one I have ever known With my own ST. JIMMY who I ask to GIVE ME NOVOCAINE The one who gives me my novacaine, so I won't feel a thing And be a 21ST CENTURY BREAKDOWN losing what's left of my mind Just being one of THE FORGOTTEN inside someone’s memory Always singing the punk SONG OF THE CENTURY Wishing I wasn’t the song EXTRAORDINARY GIRL Hoping that I’m not always ST. JIMMY THE AMERICAN IDIOT
0
Mar 29, 2022
Mar 29, 2022 at 12:37 PM UTC
ST. JIMMY THE AMERICAN IDIOT
He read me my precautions Only removing my own decay In return his novocaine  Don't you worry about nerve endings, They'll splinter up eject themselves away In time you'll teach yourself to capsulate the pain, Just sign your essence away, I'll give you more novocaine. "Sometimes it's better not to feel"
0
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
Coffee and novocaine
Most of these choices evolved from random thoughts. The learned way had been abandoned. The air held hostility and the peoples minds were polluted with a threatening view of the world. There was still trust in the talking heads and trust in the Novocaine. I found I could drink and use and be able to stay cool while everyone else was panicking. A radio played and the lyrics rang true. "Trust in me and fall as well." The pigeons sat on wires in groups like gray clouds full of anxiety and doubt. Stray dogs shared negative thoughts and ran the streets with pink tongues swinging from in between stained and bloodied canines. The moon took flight and produced a new era of paranoia. A Fleeting feeling of worry and reasons blew in with the wind. I closed the door and thought out loud. Why risk it all and step out into the world when I look around and listen hard and find so many reasons to avoid it.
0
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 6:06 PM UTC
Close The Door Outside Is Cold
She took the stairs and followed her mind shaped road to nowhere. Nowhere had novocaine and a whole lot of what  should not be shared. Mind trips, Dulled her to otherworldly stares, Bruised lips, And no one in sight to look for her welfare, Comatose limbs taking her from nowhere to nowhere. Fogged brain taking away every bit of care, But her dulled heart, Still dare. Thump, thump, thump.
0
Aug 7, 2016
Aug 7, 2016 at 11:46 AM UTC
Thump, thump, thump.....
When I write late in the night or early in the day, I like dimmed lights, pressing random thoughts into these keys, As she lays next to me trying to sleep, Novocaine plays and describes my day, My words slur in this hypogongic state. Lets take a trip somewhere far away. A voyage to Atlantis or maybe just to another state. Let my paradise be more then I dream. Let it be a place where I can enjoy the birds sings. With painted on scenery, Yeah, thats the way. Let me groove with you, let us dance on rose petals I feel so smooth with you. My eyes are to heavy to carry But the burden of sleep has already been buried. Suddenly life's not so bad the struggle is still there but The Struggles not so bad. I've revised my ways without any kind of Rehab. Eyes fall real slow lets hope I don't relapse. Perhaps this is the quiet before the storm Or maybe I'm sitting in the eye of the storm. Tho, I do adore her for more than just her form, I take whats inside the machine thats inside. Mechanisms that hide from the naked eye but I know them well so I can see them without even trying. How dry is this life without the rain that pours from inside. A drought thats good if you truly understands whats inside. Late night missions in place of late night cries. Stand up for what you feel is right, I'll play the Stick up kid and rob the rich of their joy and pride. I'll play Robin Hood in the storm tonight.
0
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 7:05 PM UTC
Late Night Thoughts At 5am
NONE OF THIS EVER HAPPENED BUT IT DID your nightmares had their petrol and fondled the dead pools of your eyes. they troubled the next world you just got use too but then; you had that thing with your eyes. you bit the moon in some kind of bite the moon why ? not frenzy. you kept your cell clean but bartered for mice that harbored a cat's hate, you sleep with jewish nuns from the planet Stop. you shared dreams with neanderthals of ponderous love. you had Novocaine to talk too. the brilliant sleep of Houdini and Passion. you had your demons sweep the floor of your cave and you ain't been seen since you got that way. gone are the things you had before the having was all ready false. you might slip into a giant's maw and cling to the uvula of " now what ? " i remember your scars like broken promises in a prom dress. you had your soul varnished by madness and black cotton... soft tufts of rough judgement and lightning and bad blood. a conglomerate of was. you're impossible if you might be you. i dream you a wrinkle in a Paradise for all the right Reasons for you.
0
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 8:27 PM UTC
NONE OF THIS EVER HAPPENED BUT IT DID
Ivory towers like third appendages flipping of the sky. Profane. Rivers run cris-cross beetles in the bog.Traffic logjam. Instant grats. Gratis time bomb ticking. Age is an obstruction. mindless pursuits of Material security blankets. Thumb suckers rule. Knuckleheads telling tales out of school. Glass house myopia. A cornucopia a chorus of jabbernows. Verbal diarrhea on wax. passes for reason. Sin-taxes pay the way Syntax gone astray. What the @**# did she just say ? Novocaine mainlined. Numb all over talking heads on the hill. Need a few meg-volts to jolt flat-lined hearts to do the people's will. War is raging, storms are raging. Quiet storms. Oil. Fuels from long dead fossils. Habit handcuffs. Cant get enough. Lites out soon. Powers that be. Juggernauts...Battlebots... Taking giant steps backwards. Chaos is local until in your locality.Doomsayer. The Giant slayer kneels to place his head in the guillotine. Appease the ruthless. Know it when you feel it. Babylon is falling.
0
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 10:20 AM UTC
Babylon
Dizzy, dazed, and sedated, Nightly rinse bleaching brains, Slowly spinning me apart. Roses flashing on screen, withered. Worshiping at the Pantheon, Novocaine for the brain. My habitual easy friends. Lust conquering love. Lights go out! Alone in the dark. Guiltless shame, I'll quit after tomorrow.
0
Mar 31, 2021
Mar 31, 2021 at 11:44 AM UTC
Novocaine for the Brain
Hummingbird, reflecting shattered strains of stained glass light, invoking the laws of physics... You, Threaded a muted conversation through soup can telephones into this delusional bubble within the Novocaine fog. Unexpected disruption in my comfortable illusion, grating vibration buzzing in... Inadvertently excavating that secret chamber, pressure sealed, Only to find there are no treasures inside..... For the Sphinx has lost them, and the mummy's venom reactivates in this bent light... and digests me... from the inside.
0
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC
Oikotropic
someone will be tired one before the other that's just the way it is I wait for impatience in my lighthouse of uncertainty & doubt is diverted through sunlight-kissed waves nearly the precise hue of his eyes someone will be tired how could you love anyone with such a hidden temper? the kind who stalks herself through the night never fully satisfied with destination or decision she wakes, inadequate & improperly rested the day is a haze of unpaid bills empty cabinets & her rebellious toddler don't be her don't be tired don't say a word the imaginary harbor of hurt shall subside with the rush of tomorrow's tide & she'll still wonder when he'll tire
0
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 6:56 PM UTC
.scrambled eggs and novocaine.
You are so kind. One of those you search for but never find. For whatever reason, I can’t get you off my mind. I want to give you all my time and have an opportunity to call you mine. We're made for one another, one of a kind. I feel as if our minds are intertwined. Created to heal the world… divine. I know this may not be the right time, but theirs something about us, I have to find. It's more than chemistry in my brain. You’re the Novocaine to all my pain. There is no other I want the same. And you are the one to blame. It's your goofy smile that keeps me sane. And if I am committing treason. I know I met you for a reason. I get high looking through your eyes. Those bright blue skies give me butterflies. I tried my best to stay away. Your eyes don’t lie, I look away. Your heart is pure let's keep it that way. And he walks away...
0
Aug 10, 2017
Aug 10, 2017 at 7:01 AM UTC
Nomad
It's Novocaine, in a way Slathered over my brain In a chemical cocktail That's supposed to keep my mind From the endless cycle of self imposed Punishment. There's no On or Off And therein's the problem Capping off something With no particular filter. To clarify, I'm a bit all or nothing, And the promise of peace they gave me Also implied artistry of my thoughts; The conversely sharp and wonderful inner workings That once gushed forward effortlessly Are locked up inside in the plugged up Pool of sludge. What a paintbrush they have these days, Drenching things in black and white; I see the logic in settling, to gripping these little oval promises Of a better life for sanity. This cold clarity enables me to remember What once was with a measured calculation Of the good weighed against the bad. Grey is a foreign object after my descent into the Matrix Red pill, Blue pill, I finally understand Cipher. Somethings are better left unknown Sometimes ignorance IS bliss.
0
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 11:32 AM UTC
Red Pill, Blue Pill, Ignorance Was Bliss.
Now here we are, what have we become? Our world is not like it use to be... It's Very messy now, and people not caring. What happen here? Our world needs our help! What happen to this Culture? We were suppose to be the dreamers And  the creators, but wait!! It's not too late. If we start now, we could still save our world and maybe the Next generation can do better; learn from our mistakes. Everyone: We're all in this together!! Together we can change our future!
0
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 12:16 AM UTC
Novocaine
3 days 4 months 5 hours 6 minutes 7 ways to make you say "ooh" I bought pizza kittens flying through space Find your advertising ******* on my shirt Let's travel to Pacoima I hear it's nice there Left field relationships Right behind the nearest Amusement Park It's getting easier not to give a **** Oh goodness, language, good sir Let's me and me lay down naked Bear's fur I do enough self loathing for the both of us Single-awareness I've tried to keep vigilant Self-fucking for the hell of it I spaced this one to the right I take showers in flowers made of Novocaine and sea salt I just realized the misspelling of lyrics and song names will never by my fault Long lines of words and ******* Let's go to the nearest cineplex Bottellas de vino y mas cerveza para mi! Let's watch Jurassic Park in 3D
0
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 3:13 PM UTC
3rd Eye Questions from Sandra Bullock's Blindside
Please don't be my novacane Because that is no good for me Don't try to numb my pain Pain is my sweet misery I don't want a love additcion Because I know you won't stay I couldn't bear your rejection Your love is a drug to me
0
Jan 29, 2011
Jan 29, 2011 at 6:39 AM UTC
Novocaine