Best Anesthetic Poems
Egotism is the anesthetic that deadens the pains of stupidity
It lowers the shield that lets one think they have complete validity
Started drinking fruit flavoured water now
Not the tastiest but I'll keep trying, I vow
In the winter months I always seem to gain
Inactivity is the culprit, exercising's a pain
When I walk, it's much more like a waddle
Sure don't resemble a Givenchy model
Gonna keep on trying to recapture my youth
Downed another swig of gin and vermouth
Now everything appears to be quite copacetic
Gin works wonders as an anesthetic
So getting back to the fruit flavoured water
A lot more concerned than this guy oughta
I'm almost eighty-eight so why should I care
Soon I'll be trapped in my big easy chair
Wifey will feed me some ground up mush
Dentures down the toilet gets flushed
But there's a silver lining waiting for me
If I could only get rid of my gimpy old knee
Bottom line is this, sure had a great life
Came up a big winner by a roll of the dice
Time, night, and sleep, I could not tell,
For down on the bathroom tiles, I fell
I hit my head but not so bad,
My hand, my muse screeched “are you mad,
What have you done”, confused, in pain
I looked, down at our hand, a monster
Glared at me, broken, swollen, angry and red,
“Wake up first don’t sleepwalk from bed,”
Hubby rushed for he heard me scream,
Called our son for this needed two, a family team
Dressed and wrapped me up, my hand, cried,
“Careful ouch" my muse sadly said,
"Its three degrees outside, a cold winter night”
I was in shock do not remember all, I got a fright,
Carefully I was bundled in the car and taken
To our nearest Emergency Department.
X -Ray’s on the double, diagnosis broken wrist.
My muse was still muttering, did you say something,
Asked the doc about pain,
There will be an injection soon,
No, I hastily replied, I merely said it looks like rain.
I had an injection on my bum,
The following morning an injection to succumb,
To the anesthetic at 7.30 am.
The photo hubby took of me shows I have no pain,
In my snazzy theater gown, which are always so plain.
10 days later stitches out, my baby elephant tattoo,
I noticed surprisingly was joined up like a puzzle by,
The greatest Orthopedic Surgeon I have ever,
known, heard of, or seen.
I am typing with my broken wrist, have a guard I wear.
Oh I’m “sorry, so sorry” said a little voice,
“I’m your, Muse we're one, I know,
You have the same pain as I,
Do you believe me as I look into your eye”
We both got a shock,
Walk mindfully is my motto,
Hey, I ditto,
You on that,
I’ll warn you and you warn me,
And together from danger we’ll
Always be free.
Your toe bone's connected to your foot bone
That's usually how this ditty begins
Continuing on up there's your ankle bone
Commonly known as your shin
If you ever get kicked in your shin bone
You'll feel what is known as pain
Your eyes will cross and you'll wet yourself
Never wanna feel that again
Better to have your finger nails ripped out
With pliers and no anesthetic
Though that can be really painful as well
But ankle pain makes you frenetic
You'll utter words you didn't know you knew
But some will likely need deciphering
Probably create some new ones of your own
Block the ears of all the wee kidlings
Now if your ankle and head bones are connected
You've had some terrible mishap
Suggest you see a surgeon right away
Or your ass could wind up in your lap!
© Jack Ellison 2012
A woman’s spirit hovers
above an inert body that is hers.
She sees the surgeons cutting
and then sees their frantic efforts
as they try to bring her back to life.
She had died and yet is able
to describe exactly everything
they’d said and done
when her anesthetic wears off!
Others – many others – have had
similar experiences called NDE’s.
Many see a tunnel or a light,
and some with loved ones long departed
may briefly unite.
Their hearts are gladdened.
They wish not to go back to this life
that most of us fight so hard to stay in.
But God alone determines when we die,
and so we know it was not time for THEM either.
Science cannot prove the afterlife,
nor can it disprove it.
How can anyone explain NDE’s
wherein the subjects’ hearts stop beating
or there is no brain activity?
They try to say the mind hallucinates
when on the brink of death,
but how can they account for miraculous recoveries?
And how do they account for the utter joy and love felt
by the many who get that precious glimpse of heaven?
What kind of light of such resplendence
could make a person wish
his soul had not even been returned to his earthly body?
Things that mortals cannot understand
in time (and in death) will be comprehended.
Lucky are the ones for whom
near death comes to them,
for death to them would have to be
a thing never more to fear again-and instead-
would be a thing to live for!
N/A April 27, 2022 in Chantelle Anne Cooke's Near Death Experience Poetry Contest
Submitted Sept. 18, 2022 for Sotto Poet's Your Second Chance 2Nd Submission: Poetry Contest
On the street, it is known as “angel dust” colloquially.
It has a formal moniker in pharmacology.
The name is rather long, but is abbreviated to “PCP”
It was first synthesized as a dissociative anesthetic.
Among its side effects, it is hallucinogenic.
More seriously, to the nervous system, it is toxic.
Junkies can inhale it, ingest it, or it can be smoked.
With its use, the brain is adversely provoked.
What are often produced are hallucinations.
Sometimes, the drug fashions delusions.
There is numbness of pain, but distortions of reality.
This cannot be anything to use for you or me.
Thanks to wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.
Robert Pettit
October 8, 2012
For Gail’s “Angel Dust” contest.
Find peace, 6 feet under
Harsh wind tears the skin off of her soiled fingers
She's set fire to every bridge she built
And inhales the smoke that lingers
She's stroked Dawn's crimson ringlets
And grasped her blood soaked hands
As she made love to regret
And turned shame into a dance
She crawled on her hands and knees like a wounded slave
And whispers that this is how she was taught to pray
Then begs him, "Please, don't think any less of me, because you are all that matters to me now."
He pleads, "God, please set her free,"
She's writhing in circles on the floor
Screaming in hatred of an unknown origin
"She's speaking in tongues again.."
He found her digging up the flower bed
Talking to an invisible stranger about white roses
And how they've been planted beneath her fingernails
"They're so pretty, but the thorns grow from beneath my skin,
And it hurts me.."
She claims she can't feel the pain anymore, though
So it's alright, the scent of fallen petals helps her sleep at night
She swears, "I'll be fine,"
She falls on the steps of Constantinople
Running from a crying child
Despite the dirt and decay on her hands, he helps her to her feet
He says, "Come walk with me."
She remembers the last time she stained his robes
He punished her by feeding her every lie she ever told
She follows him anyway, she'll believe anything he'll say
Wrapped in his rain, she feels safe from harm
So he is burned by the stars and she is leaving bloody footprints in the sand
As they walk beneath the picture perfect galaxy, arm in arm
She vows,"That whole scene was just a dream."
There could never be a demon disguised as a priest
But she knows they think she has lost her grip on cruel reality
In time, I should tell you, this girl dwells inside of me
She and I, we still collide
She's like the catastrophic queen in my mind
We pray the memories will fade with time
But not even the most anesthetic soul forgets that kind of obsession
This story is one I call "The Possession"
"I'm not going to say it, but my emotions are spilling and breaking, and it's you I'm chasing, forever face this, I really like you, and no I'm not confused, I feel so estatic, magic, and energetic, I'm blushing it's pathetic, the synergy is so synergetic, I know sometimes I act so apathetic, but you got me feeling so anesthetic, when I'm with you I don't wanna leave, call it magnetic... You got me running like I was athletic, but I didn't follow that one day, I'm sorry, I'm apologetic, you say I'm cute, but I'm ascetic, you're truly a beauty, you're aesthetic, you apprehended my feelings I better not regret it, you got me going so poetic, I hope we're not so serious, I know I maybe be mysterious, but you got me feeling so delirious. this energy is loving so furious, I hope you're not fearing this, but I hope you're hearing it, see if you ask me, what's a heart broken, it's a lonely soul that's just hoping, to me it's art stolen, every person feels emotion, but we're different fishes in this ocean, see I'm not sure what will be enough, never knew that this existed, I was stuck in a place that was sick and twisted, you assisted with hugs and kisses, I was never ambitious, but with you I need to stop with the what ifs, and jump these cliffs, I don't want us to start drifting with distance, cause I hate it when people go so distant, so at night, i'm hoping for wishes, is it 11:11, is this heaven? Your smiles expression has got my progression aggressing at your possessions, like your time, even seconds, I reckon, I want to answer all your questions, it's only my time invested, I'm ready to learn, show me a lesson...."
What's the point of Dr. Dishwater?
Well, what's the point of anything?
The only thing that appears
to have a concrete purpose
is my car key
- And I haven't been able to afford a car in years!
Dr. Dishwater emphatically rejects anything
that is not dishwater,
and fully supports anything that is:
And that's how we'll keep the human race
pure of interbreeding
(with the always friendly faces of "eugenics"
and "Social-Darwinism" as our watchwords.)
The better you understand something,
the more like dishwater
it turns out to be:
In a triple blind taste test
- I preferred Dr. Dishwater
to having my eyes yanked from their sockets
(even while under general anesthetic.)
Dr. Dishwater says,
"Don't be fooled into thinking
there has to be a reason
for everything"
- Because you'll buy whatever we tell you to:
Dishwater or not!
Dr. Dishwater reveals the surprising truth
about people and situations
- Just add a little dishwater
and they're pretty much all the same...
...Dr. Dishwater does not subscribe to any religion,
or endorse any political party,
or do anything other than dishwater
- Those who disagree must be illegal aliens.
There is no real secret to feeling dishwater
- But if one is foolish enough to drink Dr. Dishwater
while visiting Seattle,
their stomach will explode!
Dr. Dishwater may be the preferred drink
of other people
such as yourself
- If you're anything like other people
and the situations they find themselves in
with dishwater.
Never overestimate the remarkable abilities
of Dr. Dishwater brand soda
- Try 'new' Diet Dr. Dishwater instead:
You'll swear you're drinking genuine dishwater,
at only half the calories!
Please wake up every morning
knowing that things are going to be dishwater
- They had better be, or you'll get diabetes!
It is therapy for me
to make the pen dance melodies
across an otherwise bleek
piece of paper.
To create words that don't exist
because I WANT TO is simply bliss or
to write about that crush that I want to kiss
in the third person as if it is a wish
of a young girl around 16-ish
can only be done in poetic form.
I can curse out my best friend or
ask God to let me into Heaven or
bunji jump off of clouds at night and
wake up flying a kite around the sunshine,
because I am the author of the masterpiece and
to me it is the best pain killer for reality.
It is MY therapy!
I can honor those who I loved so much
or degrade them to an anesthetic touch
just because
they pissed me OFF!
I can lay down and write haikus all day
about the rain personified or
the clarity of the water in the bay.
I can use words that those around me do not understand or
think with my pen in my mouth and
his heart in my hand or
vice versa or
write about sitting all day
while I stand.
I create a magical landscape
with a concrete jungle back drop or
sing a capella songs in hip hop.
It is my THERAPY!
And I can re-create my life
by myself
unjudged,
unrevised,
and fully certified.
Thank GOD for it.
Started drinking fruit flavoured water now
Not the tastiest but I'll keep trying, I vow
In the winter months I always seem to gain
Inactivity is the culprit, exercising's a pain
When I walk, it's much more like a waddle
Sure don't resemble a Givenchy model
Gonna keep on trying to recapture my youth
Downed another swig of gin and vermouth
Now everything appears to be quite copacetic
Gin works wonders as an anesthetic
So getting back to the fruit flavoured water
A lot more concerned than this guy oughta
I'm almost eighty so why should I care
Soon I'll be trapped in my big easy chair
Cathie will feed me some ground up mush
Dentures it seems, down the toilet got flushed
But there's a silver lining just waiting for me
If I could only get rid of my gimpy old knee
Bottom line is this, sure had a great life
Came up a big winner on the roll of the dice
© Jack Ellison 2015
Communication
Communication is a medium that opens many doors,
An exchange of thoughts and idea, through figurative metaphors!
Verbal transmissions through actions, sight, sign and sound,
Communication connections are literally all around!
It starts at birth with a kiss, a hug and a smile,
An infants fixed gaze eyes, trying to focus for a while!
Although still groggy from effects, of the anesthetic drugs,
Mom communicates with baby, through comfort, touch and love!
Communication continues on, as we grow through life,
Words learned, increase in size, our brains now sharp as a knife!
Expressing ideas, opinions and thoughts, through our human speech,
Is another form of communication that Man cannot un-teach!
Modern day communication, has technology winning the race,
With, snail mail, telegraph and telephone, fast falling from grace!
Information at the speed of light, for this microwave generation,
Now, communication as we knew it, wears the face of automation!
Written by: Sarita A. Milliner © 12/11/15
Control me, console me, bestow and bless with your power and beauty
Possess me, caress my senses with exotic intoxicating perfumes
Cast spells with your existence and immeasurable intricacies
Elaborate, exact folds as if replicated in God made molds
How such beauteous bounty sprouted up from solid, sullen dirt
Annual artwork appears, here and there, just everywhere
If you dare to pause and submit to the permeation of Earths' creations
Fill eyes and nose, let pores absorb, OD on natures' natural healing
Entertain and entrance, illicit pupillary and capillary responses
Health enhancing, life sustaining, sole saving, anger erasing
No effort required to witness these miracles of all shapes and sizes
Submit, permit the anesthetic to sedate and elate as the desired effect
In heart and soul, feel the surge and satiety of brains' happy hormones
If be contagious, infect me now, and remain as a long term condition
Eternally may I be ridden and wrecked, afflicted and addicted
Every second, day and hour, every thought and breath and blink
Safe and effective, only side effects being happiness and love and passion while under the influence of THE POWER OF THE FLOWER
Josh’s drinking days were long behind him. The three beers he drank before ordering his meal; the two beers he drank during his meal; and, the two Bailey’s he consumed after his meal had taken their effect on the middle-aged man. He talked incessantly to the bartenders, bothered the two young ladies who sat at the bar a few stools away and staggered back and forth to the men’s room a dozen times.
Finally, reluctantly, after many hours had passed, Josh paid his tab, leaving a generous, alcohol influenced tip and wobbled out the door. Not sure which direction to go to return to his hotel, Josh simply started off down the street, still thinking about his wife.
How much time passed is unclear, but he was many blocks away when he suddenly realized he was not wearing his fedora. Josh did an about-face and tried to retrace his steps to the bar and bar stool where he knew his hit sat waiting for him. Josh walked into and out of a number of bars he mistook for the one he dined in. Although he was fooled by the outside facades, once he stepped in, he knew it was the wrong bar.
When Josh finally stumbled upon the bar that he recognized as the one he had dined in, it was closed and the doors were locked. It was 3:00 am.
Tears came to Josh’s eyes. Josh felt as if losing the hat his wife had given him was a harbinger of the end and he was not ready to reach that point. Josh simply had to retrieve that hat. He had to get his wife back. Somewhere, deep down in his drunken soul, Josh mustered up the strength to lift the city trash can from the corner of the street and smash it through the large glass window in front of the bar – he was oblivious to the alarms that started blaring.
Josh managed to crawl into the bar through the broken window unaware of the glass shards cutting his wrists, stomach and throat. The moister from the blood simply mixed with the moister from his sweat. The numbness and anesthetic nature of the abundance of alcohol he was not used to masked the extent of his injuries.
When the police arrived on the scene, Josh was found in the darkness, clutching his fedora at the foot of the stool where he had eaten his dinner.
Josh’s wife received the phone call later that morning announcing his passing.
He was buried with the fedora.
There is currently an increase in bedbug infestations
due to an increase in foreign travel.
Bedbugs, hide during the day to feast at night.
They inject an anticoagulant into their host
to keep its blood flowing as the insect feeds,
as well as an anesthetic agent
to keep the host from feeling the bite.
A number of products can control bedbugs
but the difficult part is finding the bedbugs
so that they can be effectively treated.
Due to bedbugs desire to avoid light
and fondness for tight spaces
they are often difficult to detect.
However political campaigns
are always a good starting place
in finding such blood-suckers.