Best Anesthetized Poems
To the legend of silence
that speaks in trembling stillness
I’ve seen your halcyon halo~
that illuminates wilted weeds
and tilted tendrils
unfolding perfumed wings,
allowing sizzling seas of stardust to rise.
But something about the way
your soft skin caresses
my bruised bones,
ignites poetic sparks,
carving scarlet skies of fears
with luminous letters
and nomadic numbers.
Yet I, the mistress of metaphors,
remain hypnotized by the harlequin blades,
in your virtuous garden of butterfly serenades,
searching for a phrase to describe
the selflessness that you
portray,
through jasmine scented analogies.
I empathize with your locked-up tears,
cloaked discreetly beneath feathered sunsets,
for, in solitude, your soulful song soars,
unfolding sorcery from a symphonic tapestry of darkness,
like a broken bandit dressed in lion limbs,
walking through nocturnal nothingness.
I heard the soldier within you
shoulders heavy burdens~
as an aquamarine armored savior,
to the ones that long for petals of peonies~
that emanate healing through peridot gates of your midnight eyes.
Sometimes, I wonder, how you
stand so firm,
unmoved by the wicked winds,
carrying hail of heinous hymns,
unfolding your fingers to weave unerasable auroras
across greyest horizons,
enabling the blind a lilac ladder to the tangerine moon,
where flowers flourish like fairy-dust blossoms.
If only, you can see yourself,
through these words,
maybe then, you will realize,
your picturesque patience
and presence is enough to paint
every wrong right,
amidst the fickle fog against the sharpness of your sight,
I see you as the rainbow star that
sprinkles hope,
upon my anesthetized heart,
there I walk above lunar-kissed ripples,
embracing the empathetic silhouette of your tender twilight.
Tonight I’ll wear sage to sleep,
hug you from miles,
let memories of the sun that thawed wintry thoughts
be the lullaby,
as I look for you, astral waltzing,
to place my cheeks within your empyrean embrace,
where home is a feeling I find with you.
Yesterday’s sweet corn
now rests among the shucked,
where norms’ victims lay.
Side-by-side in rusty silos,
awaiting the gristmill;
dull substance feeds the masses.
Look at us, Mr. Kipling.
What became of “The Man Who Would Be King”?
Laugh at us.
Anesthetized aspirations
embalmed by mediocrity,
hacks without hopes rest in a garden of low expectations.
Individuality sacrificed,
we are the dull fruit
carried in coffins created by conformity.
What is left to feed the next generation,
but the seeds of monotony
without a kernel of creativity?
*May 26, 2018
We’re monopolized by the Saran-wrapped food,
the plastic cutlery,
absorbed by the clutter of the food tray.
Numbed by hours of jiggling,
the carting of torpid bodies through interminable distance,
we’re wedged now into boredom, uncomfortably numb.
Anesthetized – we fear nothing.
If the aircraft stalls, few will scream.
We’ll keep decanting small bottles of vin de table,
butter buns.
As the aircraft plummets
and drops like a stone to certain death
we’ll still be struggling with condiment sachets,
coffee creamers, with small, molded cruets
oblivious now to anything less important.
Unshakeable groggy state
plagues mein kampf
impossible mission to awaken
this comatose zombie
drugged horror - by potent
self manufactured narcotic -
oppressive tantalizing
nightmares indistinguishable
when supposedly conscious,
eyes cannot differentiate
dusky "reality" from
twilit zoned lifelike slumbers
confused with medication
induced hallucinations ferrying
me to lands unknown
lack proper visa to allow
this migrant citizenship,
cannot escape tangled web
spun since birth
threads tensile strength
beyond realm of destruction
incredibly dynamic force
defies sophisticated
contraption to measure
even against most
powerful dynamometer,
no contest when utmost might,
sans primal scream
regarding non anesthetized excruciating
spinal tap daily visited
on this beastie boy,
no matter summoning every last ounce
of mine (billeted) willpower
foregone conclusion collusion
effectually ranked less
than lame duck effort
defeated, jackknifed, stymied...
every step of the weigh
I loathe forlorn doomed curse,
a worse fate than death,
no life worth living when bereft
of interpersonal, "normal",
relational... trappings,
yet death not available
for this walled in hostage
imprisoned within inescapable Alcatraz
every blinkered instant nsync
with pseudo fictional
realistic psychedelic dreams
mocking (this bird – dodo)
man cave existence, a mere
abysmal charade, facade, jade
did minimalistic functionality,
where suicide an irrevocable
unfair punishment to Shana Punim
precious daughter, whose caterwauling...
would wake grateful dead!
As I crawl upon a sober Road.
A friend lends a hand, and many stories are told
so many people like me that have chosen life
Chosen to be free
Addiction is a Family Curse that does not discriminate
cares not about your race, or how much money do you make
this Demon only turns once was loved , into something it can devastate
It is there you learn how to suppress all fear and pain
there to hold you down, taking lives , taking names with nothing to gain
As I crawl upon the road, it is Dark, it is cold, it is so hard to see
It's only then I realize there is so many like me
Nothing is easy as you face yourself, we all are broken
so much you should have, could have, all words unspoken
to walk upon this road takes courage, takes strength
living life without being Anesthetized , living so openly criticized
"It works if you work it " all the clichés you dislike
They really do work , so listen and you will not have to ride a bike
So many times you can Fall, you'll know what to do , and whom to call
Out of the Darkness A friend helps you stand, a good cup of coffee with number in hand.
there to help you , there to lift you up, there to help you stand.
You must share in all honesty, then you will be driven to start over with Integrity.
Early morning
his first thought:
A glass of Gin
A refreshing effect
Relationship of evil to
devil's medicine
One glas
becomes to three ... or five
The clock shows half past seven
in the morning
Mother and the children wake up
It's a new working day
and school for the three children
He hides the bottle
The brain is anesthetized
The glass falls,
crushed in the sink
He is completely unable to act
Fear and despair
Protects their children
Economic difficulties
The shame! - Oh ... that terrible shame
Mother was depressed
and was simply not
strong enough to leave him
19.02.2018
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Pouring drops tumble as Sin shares her final sensual treasured embrace prior the sanctified storm
Once the Crowning Rays threshold is now the traverse shadow, tattered and tangled amidst destiny’s yarn
Warn decree, reminisced jeweled land plateau accuse is now stone-cold alleyways aging in silence
Damned light, the heart forever shattered, yet the flesh remains unbroke, never
to be unsaid it was love
The crystallized vastness of stars anesthetized the vagabond vampire within the valley of death
Breath of beauty wins by retrofire corresponded aura humanized exemplars on atlas skies
Yesteryears memories are the futures joys for no weeping words or heroic deeds will redeem
Updated 5/14/2019
Floating in vacuum,
morphine intravenous supplied,
pain deadened,
she lies dormant, oblivious to all,
thoughts suppressed,
unfeeling and benumbed
in the emergency cubicle.
Her husband holds her hand,
icy, like winter at its worst.
She moans, eyes flutter,
only to fall asleep again.
Anesthetized she finds rest.
Monitors bleep to rhythm,
steady as she goes just like
a sailing boat on rough seas.
She will survive.
Husband bewildered.
A human vegetable?
Oh no the expert says.
She will be fine.
The husband dials a number,
talks softly not to disturb.
There will be no divorce,
it's best that they give up
and do not meet again.
The woman on the bed groans.
Is that a smile on her lips?
Have we now reached that place where lives lost to violence are so commonplace that we pause only for a moment to take note?
Are we so anesthetized by the drone of voices and talking heads on CNN that their mindless chatter concerning yet another senseless round of killings by the human garbage that exists among us goes almost unnoticed?
We stand helpless amidst the aftermath of these events while politicians, psychologists, sociologists and others try without success to explain the flaws that exist within we humans that precipitate such inhuman actions; followed closely by the myriad of opinions on what must be done to stop the carnage.
The noise is deafening and the inaction that results only confirms that which we all so sadly already realize deep inside. That being that the answer is as fleeting as the wind and we have not yet evolved to the degree that we can effectively evaluate much less eliminate that which we do not understand.
Yes, weapon laws, the elimination of poverty and social injustice would help to mitigate the problem but until such day that the evolution of the human mind reaches that point which allows "reasoning" to trump such human failures as greed, hate, and lack of compassion we will remain locked in this vicious cycle of preying on one another as if life has no value.
The truth be known, although we have evolved technically over the centuries, we still remain very much the same "tribal" animals that we once were. Fighting over the slightest provocation, a rancid piece of meat, the scarce elements of this Earth that sustain life and even the trinkets of self-adornment.
We walk upright and speak in many tongues yet we remain just another beast of the jungle.
After what I have claimed and said
After the moon had glittered and the sun had shined
After a day, exactly a day
A new hour began
I look at this, I look at us
So much to tell, so much to ask
So much to discuss But where are we? And where is fate?
After the misguided attempt to lose you forever
I turn back to this, and think again
Was it all worth it? Will it all count?
No it aint, and nothing will ever be
I turn around, step into that massive pile of thorns
With heart as strong and eyes are sharp
I will come back to face it
To face it all
The needles, the thorns
The pierces, the bleeding heart
The numb hands, the anesthetized arms
The track that ceaselessly I will run
The stabs and falseness
I will fortake
But for what?
To have what in return?
A soul as pure as ice
A heart as fierce as fire
A smile as appealing as I will ever be
A sign, I let go, and open my eyes
Ready to do it, ready to fight it all
Just to, enjoy it again, that love, that intensity
Life will set me by, will not give me time
But I’ll hasten before it’s too late
I’ll do it, with God as my guide, as my soul save
But will you approve?
That’s something you must
Thus you have done things that
No one other than me can fortake
An Air Of Death - Haiku
asphyxiated
anesthetized under leaf
bug silent, death calls
He turned twenty-one on that beautiful fall day
Driving to his home from college, he got an early start on his way
The father who raised him since his mother died at his birth
Wanted to have his first beer with him that afternoon after work
He reached the Jersey Turnpike at about a quarter after nine
The lady in the toll booth looked as if she had been crying
The music from his cd player continued from his speakers to blast
People seemed to be intently listening to radios in every car he drove past
As he got closer to his home on the New Jersey Hudson side
Fire engines with their sirens on in a procession went rushing by
He noticed the smoke rising from the towers that they call Twins
Knowing that his father’s office lays somewhere there within
He found the spare key under the mat outside the house front door
Cautiously he walked inside seeing Happy Birthday signs and more
He turned on the TV set while trying to call his father on the phone
As that day turned into night he continued watching all alone
With the sound of his Dad’s voicemail echoing in his ear
That newly turned twenty-one year old boy opened his first beer
His shirt front was soaked with the streaming of his tears
No news did he receive that day to alleviate his fears
Anesthetized by alcohol he slumbered on the floor
Not knowing if he ever could pick himself up any more
He was awakened by the rustling sounds of keys fumbling at the door
His father had walked the whole way home covering twenty miles and four
Turning twenty-one is a day that he never will forget
Seeing his soot covered father was his best birthday present yet
They shared a beer together without speaking a single word
In memory of those who won’t come home in a world now turned absurd
so much precious existence
found me rooted with mouth ajar
as sigh asper the dentin-cementum
so mud dear reader (with dem perfect
enameled pearly whites), aye har bar
envy for those with a complete set
of eight incisors, four cuspids (i.e. canines),
eight bicuspids, and twelve molars
(including four wisdom teeth) tabulating
many hours in the car (engendering
saddle sore bony tuckus)
plus regarding chunk whereat,
pernicious cementum funk
viz distraught psyche, when muss self as a lil monk
key decades after being examined
by family dentist Doctor Marcus (NOT WELBY),
excellent practitioner (button irate pulp pill
people ' especially children) eater – the grump,
whose private practice located
in Levittown, Pennsylvania,
and when prepubescent underwent
pertinent more explicit focused
intense noninvasive procedures
asper subsequent cause of speech impediment
determined why air didst jump
thru nostrils, (speech therapist at Henry Kline Boyer),
neither thin nor plump
informed parents
of Lancaster Cleft Palate Clinic –
fifty plus miles one direction),
where chief prosthodontist
Doctor Mohammad N. Mazaheri, DDS, an Iranian
whose expert reputation, sans strict manner didst trump
his aura, karma evincing clipped commands
forceful as a vocal whump
before launching into meat and potatoes
of crux comprising real aim
constituting modus operandi
(and cresting away from details indirectly tide
into main intent, nobody aye blame)
for thine dental debacle quandary
(managed by gumshun,
whereby eons hyperbolically toted beyond google),
and despite the optimistic stance
wool worth anesthetized numb skull claim
nascent malocclusion faintly affecting,
hinting, pointing toward Periodontitis
(despite diligence attending to oral hygiene frame)
the manifestation of major looming crisis compromising,
forgoing, instigating, et cetera loss of teeth,
this (after agony in league with separate occasions
twice wearing braces, concomitant Extractions
of wisdom and removal of crowdsourcing –
closeup toward the front of mouth teeth - game
Suffocating
Paranoia of
Incinerated
Tranquility
Insanity
Is the new infection
An epidemic
Of self annihilation
To cleanse
Our souls in our own bloodshed
A syndrome
Of the weakening human head
Out with the civilized silence
In with the barbaric violence
We’ve lost all guidance
So let's carry our torches and tridents
And kill…
…The Earth is lathered in a murderous flame
Scorch black
The crimson rivers drain; we’ve anesthetized the mind-melting pain
Let the bodies stack.
That’s it
We die in a sea of S.P.I.T.
Suffocating
Paranoia of
Incinerated
Tranquility
Anesthetized constitution,
Demoralized contribution;
Righteous inconsistency-
Wrong-doers frequency.
Subliminal conflab,
Criminal back stab;
Caseless quarrels-
Faceless morals.
Psychedelic legislation,
Humanity disintegration;
Tormented composure-
Indecent exposure.
Respect annihilation,
Sacramented violation;
Varnished illusion-
Tarnished delusion.
Armed paraphernalia,
Strung up genitalia;
Mouthed truths, clamped-
Sealed lies, stamped.
Commune travesty,
Immune amnesty;
Synthetic jurisdiction-
Pathetic contradiction.
Vengeful retribution,
Carnaged institution;
Marred government, lineated-
A nation, desecrated
© 31st October 2013