As hedonists dally
to never explain
The greatest pleasure
— the absence of pain
(Dreamsleep: December, 2024)
Words are cures and killers.
Each flick of tongue or wrist, there lies a decision,
Twin pillars:
Heal and maim.
Will you build new dawns or prisons?
Self-same
You, them:
Applied visions,
Prey?
Words are cures and killers
Will you build new dawns or prisons?
Pray?
Only one in twenty-five thousand have CIP.
CIP stands for congenital analgesia.
This means you cannot feel pain.
Sounds good huh?
Not if you see blood spurting out of your toddler.
And the tip of his tongue is on the floor.
Children with CIP do not know when they are sick.
Unless chicken pox pops out, their parents do not know either.
So it is important to take their temperature.
There is no cure for CIP.
Your child can have severe oral cavity damage and not feel it.
This is why regular dentist and doctor visits are imperative.
Being impervious to pain feels good unless you are limping.
Because you broke your ankle three days ago.
Or you are spreading flu all over town,
because you do not know you have it.
Proof that people who cannot feel pain still have problems.
Ease after torment
delight for a time
Pain as a stranger
more fondly in mind
Absence entrancing
when courting a knave
Sweetest the silence
—where screams did pervade
(Las Vegas: July, 2022)
I come back to these scribbles
jotted down in broken verse
of when I felt.
When my body burned with passion and rage
when my loins ached or my heart broke.
Revisiting the epoch of life
trying to re-assemble the shape of those energies.
Yet I am still numb.
Apathetic and drifting on analgesia
the medicine my hysterias sought.
Humanity leached into distance and fugue.
Desensitized to the state of existence.
I cease to be me.
Courageous and bold even with the mantle of responsibilities
wine in total control riding on his powerful lust
a man is a man- is the comfort trapped in each misleading bottle
come rain, come shine its acute satisfaction is a must
its just mere liquid but so loved and a needed companion
penetrating through his unconscious surrender to snatch much trust
as the outside is at rest, the inside gets heavily agitated
senses standing on weak rods b’cos the Irons are facing a rust
one more risky step to insanity turns death on
the gutter, the stones, even opportunists he nears his home of dust
a pleasant zone, the soul’s analgesia and needed amnesia
the rocky side of reality only swells waiting for his next awareness to burst.
You look so pleased to see me
from far along the ward – Jim:
I recognised you after several years and,
returning after analgesia relieved the pain,
shared Communion. Christ's love
which reminded you of the struggle
of Isabel. Memories re-enacting
that stroke which took so much.
I recalled her first words, that revealed her
Scottish – the long commitment you made
to her recovery. You took her home – risen.
Her life I remember vivid, but her death
is absence.
I left you sorrowful, but
somehow thankful for what we'd known, and shared
and treasure still, of Isabel – her courage, our faith
made new there at the bedside. Bread
and wine hallowed again and again – risen.
I am not your mind, but I think of you
I am not your heart, but I feel you and I'm missing you
I am not your family, but I care for you
I am not your blood, but am ready to share the pain
I am not your voice, but I can tell how good or bad you are
I am not a comedian nor a clown, but I'll be happy seeing you smile
I am no engineer nor an architect, but I can be your blocks to build
I am neither an anesthesia nor an analgesia, but sure I can relieve your hurt
I am no priest nor a police, but I can well listen for woos and truths
I can be both devil and angel, but sure by all means I am mere human
Above all these, I am one willing person to accept the whole of you
by
olive_eloi
O3/13/2014
1:44 am
motif: romantic
CONTEST: IMPRESS ME WITH A SMALL POEM 1V
SPONSOR: GIORGIO A.V.
2ND PLACE (TO GOD THE GREATEST GLORY.. )
You repeat and post the same letter,
Again and again and again,
As if reinforcement renders things better,
And the litany melts away pain.
You reiterate, as though amnesia,
Distorts all the temporal thought,
As if restatement invokes analgesia
And offers some means of retort.
You replicate, chapter and verses,
Retreading the same weary road,
As if recurrence lifts self-imposed curses,
Confabulation lightens the load.
You recap photocopies of sleight,
In loops of a cyclic encore,
No meaning, just boredom and blight
We’ve all seen and heard it before.
I am the reaper man
and I’m always here,
striding through an ambience
of gut rot and fear.
I am the reaper man
with touch as cold as snow,
I stalk the darkest landscape
where angels never go.
I am the reaper man,
neither good or bad,
purposeful or random,
cheerful or sad.
I am the reaper man
lord of the blackest seizure,
the prince of anaesthetics,
the king of analgesia.
I am the reaper man
replete with scythe and hood,
astride the breadth of ages,
reviled, misunderstood.
I am the reaper man
the cataclysmic voice,
the saviour in the shadows,
redeemer without choice.
I am the reaper man
with kiss to render blind,
relentless for eternity,
so cruel to be kind.
I am the reaper man,
a leveller of the deep,
who drops the final curtain,
bestows the biggest sleep.
I am the reaper man
who won’t discriminate,
who visits every living thing
inevitable fate.
I am the reaper man
who pours the blackest rain,
foreclosing on all suffering,
nullifying pain.
I am the reaper man
who no one can avoid,
putting paid to life,
decreeing null and void.
I am the reaper man.
Always close at hand.
I am the reaper man.
I am the reaper man.
Galvanic analgesia
Settled my
Nervous jangle, keys
Rattled in echo chambers
Ravaged the still of the
Sultry craven day
And the nocturnal torpor.
Abided hush in cotton wool,
Silenced by her aura,
Dampened me down,
Soaked me up, saviour
Saved herself and quelled
My agitate.
In so doing, this halo
Shone sedation upon
My turmoil, and smoothly
Cracked the code
On vaulted sleep,
It's encrypted malady.
When twice removed, missed
Her vacating respiration,
Missed the beating of her
Heart, now pounds for someone
Else, someone other
Than I.
I call out in tacit phrasing,
By scant implication,
Some minute grain of mercy
In her mind will tease,
Beseech her aura dwell upon me
Still, once in a while.
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