"parasympathetic" 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
May I not forget
The way skin feels
Beneath the wake of my hands
Smooth
Sympathetic to the touch
Rolling
Gliding
To the rythem I choose
My hands envelope you
causing parasympathetic response
Beneath my finger tips
Relaxing you to the fullest
A gift to me
a gift to you
Let me feel
Let me give
let me love
May I not forget
The way skin feels
Beneath the wake of my hands
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
just a poem it was
A poem of love at most!
in the form of
a flower,
a rainbow,
a bird ,
a tune,
a word ,
a picture
*
Some came in written
in technological terms
Some quantized
as futuristic incense
*
You have sensed it all
the untold
Even long before my say
*
Not ‘the all’ go though
through
You know … once you can close yourself,
set a fence…
*
but in that latter case
although you may have done your best
to shut these gates
It seems they have reached premises against
without my knowing
aethēr so lucid does trespass
once built an absolute bridge through souls of equivalent selves.
*
Each n every time is mine a hopeless cry to make you furious ?
A touch at the physical and meta-physical to eventually develop anti-sense?
*
Naturally so easy
As you reside at an exact opposite side of me
*
Angered n equally frustrated
in rage of a momentous burst
You sell my identity
<Intimately-shared-digital>
to a dreadfully operating net-entity
and target me as if to spears
oh how that really hurts
maybe you wished so
but no not really
*
a boomerang brings in a rhyme
of a thoughtless action
returns it to the center of a rotating spiral
where you stand
the exact opposite end
*
I won’t allow though
You to frown
this way you learned to simmer n cool down
became a clown of your own ghost town
as we’re entangled beings
already since sometime
*
so let me just also have fun
Instead of you- bring me down
On the competing wheel game of up n down
Oh no there we sit not anymore!
*
Realize to have targeted a wrong one
Once it is so much alike an opposing side or a town or a crown
Of you and both eventually you!
So wonder in sane what did I do
And put a SPAM mask on
To warn me through
and clearly do as if you were one of them:
an Intellect-Deficient-Agent scam.
*
So let me just P.S. a burp here now
Haven’t learned to develop gallstones of anger to compete thyn
but joy at most with a parasympathetic smile
Take it as a blessing if you like or a teasing
that she has you loved so without your willing
and equally convert it to a bile.
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 4:42 AM UTC
The sympathetic nervous system is your fight-or-flight response system
You must have been a bird with broken wings,
Because you only wanted to fight.
The parasympathetic nervous system is your healing system
You must believe that mine is so amazing
That I can heal any wound.
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 6:13 PM UTC
The blue cat sits over the moon
beside the vase of gun and fire flaker.
under the wanting desires
Invisible Dragons Eyes are cruising
Waves come in and out, crash
Switch on and off and then recede again
Is the parasympathetic nervous system activated?
Roar… Miao...!
The white lion stands in the wind of a deep violet night
Ancient PaPa flies through the clouds
He cried for his blue cat: No more
crimes. No need for detention
May everyone is happy. No more
thoughts of confusions
Everyone can be comfortable with their own reflection
Roar… Miao...
Yet it counts, this one cat
filling our courage of days
Experiencing
Ourselves,
One cat at a time.
Mar 1, 2021
Mar 1, 2021 at 11:41 PM UTC
It was visceral
My gut clenched like I was falling in a dream
Deep in the core of me
Where the parasympathetic neuron bundles coalesce
And tell you to be calm
They were yelling
The wave of their signalling swept across the whole of me
I tingled and itched from my scalp to my toes
All the tiny blood vessels expanded
Fueling the sensory nerves of my skin,
My pupils dilated
My mouth salivated
I wanted to reach out with every bit of me
I wanted to expand to consume and experience every part of the world
To touch everything
To feel everything
Taste and Smell and See everything
I wanted to invent new organs of sensation
To better understand it, to experience more, to feel all of it
I jumped up
Like a dog
And reveled in the pure ecstatic joy of the sensory intensity
Every smell, the ambient humidity, the warm breeze
The color, the warmth of the sun,
The sounds of all the biologic engines of the world
Each of which was individually responsible for an infinite joy
And together were even more
It was a feeling that lasted only moments
And faded in soft turns
Till I became acclimated and in time oblivious
And the grass was once again, just grass
And the flowers were just weeds
And the dogs, and the children and the people in the town
Were just local residents going about their secret lives
And not the heaving mass of cells and life,
Climaxing in the moment of their existence to become more
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 3:16 AM UTC