hello I am your nurse, she said.
There will be a small pinch.
From behind her back, she brings out something enormous.
it takes two hands and a foot
because it is huge
the biggest shot dispenser I have ever seen
I begin screaming
no one comes
I am alone with this killer nurse
my second most horrible nightmare
the first one concerns a dentist who is poking holes in my teeth
Her eyes are laden with drunken sleep,
Silhouetted by lank, tired hair flimsier
Than the spine of an elderly, broken night.
Tattered, it buries the horrors of night;
Braided, it creases the rows of black corn,
Sweeping swiftly south and downwards;
Ponytail ties the umbilical linking life
And skyline light.
Lissome, she traipses with no lamp,
Even when darkness confidently pitches its nightingale’s romance
To district judges seated on the kerb of the apothecary’s creed . . .
With her the night loses its potency,
Its sacredness,
Expelling flies that die out on their own willpower,
Like winged dinosaurs,
Through the age of decomposing summer.
It's all been analysed before?
The oneiric spell cast upon slow, difficult nights
When the breath smells like the anus of hell.
By the way, I drivel.
Not saliva.
Oh, no!
I drivel on about hissing nights that ought to be lonesome,
Stretched out, dark, and without rays borrowed
Earlier from a twerking twilight.
Restless nights, worn like silky cloaks, diaphanous,
Seeing through the naked veins of her sweet eyes.
Leukemia boys and
Leukemia girls wave
in hospital volunteers,
as the angels wave
them away.
What is
love?
Beyond
an overpriced
ambulance ride,
and an unnecessary
hospital stay?
The most beautiful things:
summer sweat,
and Rome after
rain.
Inside,
a child draws
a yellow sun
with trembling fingers.
The IV, taped
down like it’s trying
to hold him
there.
Forced positivity.
A heart full of
apathy.
I see that
same world you try
to see with substance sober,
and I’ll be the first to tell you—
it isn’t a
blessing.
God has a
hand-grenade
smile, and it’s
hard to find
the grace
in that.
There’s
6 dead, 4 wounded,
and one on the
way.
What an
unimpressive
collection.
The Nurse of Zionism (part 1)
She visited the stolen land
loved putting her feet in the sand
the sand was not pleased
the crushed bones of Palestinian dreams
olive trees burned so Europeans could party
Over three hundred bullets in a six year old
"Its complicated"
Thousand of children slaughtered
"Its complicated"
Doctors raped in IDF prisons
"Its complicated"
Children used as human shields
"Its complicated"
Hospitals bombed on purpose
"Its complicated"
Medical equipment smashed by soldiers
"Its complicated"
IDF dress up in Palestinians women's cloths
"Its complicated"
One will never heal
with a heart so cold for others
selfish, self centered, self absorbed
to the core
Nazis had nurses too
I should not be shocked
The Angel of Tel Aviv (Part 2)
I ask why the ones
with hearts of gold
carry such a heavy burden
of pain, loss and sadness
The world such a miserable place
nurses should carry compassions grace
mostly true
for in the afternoon sun,
the Hanoun in bloom
in Tel Aviv an angel of mercy
restored my faith in humanity
Nurse Nicole, with calmest eyes,
Moves through halls where silence lies—
Right hand steady, strong, and sure,
To Dr. Gabriel, she is pure.
Level-headed in the fray,
Guiding hearts from night to day,
With hands that heal and words that mend,
A fierce protector, faithful friend.
In every room, her kindness glows,
Like rivers where the soft wind blows,
Or streams that twist through shaded land—
She reaches out with healing hands.
She speaks in tones both firm and low,
Where pain and panic often grow,
And patients, lost in weary hours,
Feel her strength like sudden flowers.
Among green leaves and tangled trees,
She finds her peace in ocean breeze,
But never shuns the blood or bone,
The mess of life—she stands alone.
Empathy flows like summer rain,
Through aching hearts, through fear and strain,
And though the world may spin and call,
She’s busy, still, among us all.
A light in white, with soul so wide,
She walks where mortal hearts collide,
A woman made of will and grace—
The world feels safer in her place.
The leather tethers kept loosening.
I had to pull at them until
they dug into your body
binding you to a rocking cross.
It was all for nothing
you died snapping at unseen knives,
arching up, bending time into
frozen waves.
You once said you were Irish/Scots,
Appalachian.
You called yourself: Applachan.
Sinewy girl --- wiry poppy stems
in you, and engine oil
to soften tenacious roots.
The fever racked you up.
It shook your bones loose.
It blossomed,
pouring you out
in thimbles of awareness.
In those intervals,
blue hills filled your eyes
with summer rain.
I would talk to you of Ireland.
We went there on that last night.
We made a hasty camp
in the dream felled woods,
the deep raw stumps
were already greening.
Then I watched,
and kept watching
as feeble death broke its teeth
on your blood.
Having been so long untouched,
I’d become a child beyond touch
and unclean.
So, when suffocatingly
roused from a nightmare of death
to unbreathable silence
in an oxygen tent, I cried
afraid of dying alone.
From somewhere
(outside of all darkness)
you appeared
(starched-pinafored and perfumed
a student nurse working nights
after classes)
bringer of light
restorer of air
redeemer.
At your spell, cool air whispered
around us, and you held me
despite my uncleanness
(and I felt
your heart
beating).
My tears eased a path for breath,
your fingers gentled my face,
and I fell back into sleep
at peace.
I have forgotten your name
but I remember your touch
and the silver nitrate stain
on your hand, a sky blue.
If I believe in Mercy
it’s only because of this:
You fearlessly touched one
whom others would not
and if God has a face
it is yours.
Thrust in the center of the storm
All I could see was You
My deepest fears had been born
My sanity like strings unloosed
Nerves unglued by life events
Perhaps this broke my mind
Strapped to a bed I no longer lament
Refused food or drink of any kind
The drugs they tried made me hide
Inside my paranoia so I didn’t speak
Except for occasionally with my eyes
At this one mental health nurse you see
She would gently hold my bound hand
And offered warm wishes and compassion
Through her empathetic angelic glance
I gained something humane in her passion
She’d offer me food which I refused
But fed my spirit with her kindness
After days my mangled mind improved
God sent her and a divine kiss
Through the eye of a manic storm
Where I lay broken despite grace of God
All I saw was this nurse's form
She grounded me with her heavenly heart
scuffs in the pearl white floor
when she leaves the room,
for empty hospital hallway memories,
haze of sterile gloom
like snails, the chronic men
each slowly wear away,
their minds left to trail behind them,
their faces falling into decay
the grey walls with snake green stripes
always constricting them,
the dim fluorescent flicker of the fate
to which they have been condemned.
To be a night nurse takes skill and grace,
Caring for patients in this darkened space.
With every step, we must be alert,
Ensuring their comfort, never to hurt.
We check vitals and administer meds,
Making sure each patient is well-fed.
Through the night, we work with dedication,
Providing care with love and admiration.
It takes compassion and a steady hand,
To be a night nurse, we must understand.
So here's to all the nurses who work late,
Thank you for all you do, you're truly great! ??
By Anna Tauvaa
A bat cries differently,
eats fruits,
gliding, hanging insectivore,
Jackal-Kite, living mammal, nursing offspring, pup , quarrelsome, rodent species, terrible, umbrella vampire, winged xebec, yearn zoo .
Laid out for surgery, a patient prude
Swaps self guided for guile - Medusa’s will
Noisy neurons mute, poor Nerida nude
Serpent puncture spreads in her, poison pill
Twirls twilight silent, sticky dark danger
Cotton candy cloud, clement synapses
Petrifying practitioner changed her
Nerida’s urge for control collapses
Fang flung, spiralled far from mediocre
Transfixed in toxin, menacing method
Venom swoll jugular veins squeeze choke her
Doctor’s dose meticulously measured
Tangled snake strands, table statue taboos
Dagger dipped in blood leaves only a bruise
Numbing Needle
Ninth of January
When the devil comes
For you
He will be in disguise
To take you by surprise
And free you from
God’s defenses
Trick the trust
You have in your senses
The devil he cheats
Wins your trust by deceit
Rachel Marchand
I need you to understand
When i come for revenge
The only question you need comprehend
Is whether I will give to you
What you did not give to me
The opportunity to fight back
Trauma has wrapped me in its slimy tentacles
Tightening, till my depression becomes clinical
Man with yellow pad listens obligingly
Then into my happy place he is guiding me
I imagine my beautiful tropical island home
All is serene and I am finally alone
Turquoise waters pet the shores sand
Oh so ready to rest from life in this land
With long hypnotic strokes, newness is washed away
Carried into the Icy depths of ancient days
I sit, contented for once, on the hot white grains
Coconut in hand yet taste of... oatmeal remains
I cannot tell the time, nor anything truly measure
In my island retreat, alone, I will stay forever.
*the nurse continues spooning oatmeal into the patients open maw
Wiping his chin after each bite and closing his jaws.
Nurse Narcolept’
Give "poetry" a go She said
She said, you won’t never look back
take a lie down on my couch She said
She said, give my poetry a go
she pulled me in deep
the agony was infernally slow
Nurse Narcolept’
and her whip
traced my outline
in a steady stream
of purrfectly pert poems
such an odd sensation
my hands and tongue tied
poetically biting the bit
there was no turning
which way or that
white square or black
right or left
what’s left of right
let alone finding
the most decent
indecent way back
from the craziness of It
the mind caressing the
anima animus id
the cool cats all watching
whisper under
their hormonal horror whiskers
run Dick Run
for those cross-dressers
voyeuristically entangled
run Jane Run
oh what fun
doesn’t walk like a duck
absolutely no quack
lethally tap dancing
gang'star across keys rat-a-tat-tat
no need for a gun
Candide Diderot. ‘24
News for Andy/Iggy Pop
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