Best Forceps Poems
Intravenous therapy,
She's watching over me.
Grasping my hand,
She whispers, "please dear, count to ten."
Six... piercing paralysis,
Her hand cold as the air.
She lets go, leaving me there.
Alone, squirming, for just one prayer.
Yelling, and screaming.
Kicking, twisting, and questioning.
Nothing happens, its all in my head.
Frozen, welded to my metal death bed.
Minutes and hours tick away,
Slow, painful psychological decay.
I try to think of hating her,
But those thoughts just blur,
her pretty face.
Then I realize why I'm actually here.
Amidst the psychotic silence,
she walks in, and smiles.
She says, "Darling, this won't take a while."
Okay I say, dismissing the horror of the situation.
Her angelic voice, sedating all sensations.
I see the scalpels, forceps,
retractors, and clamps.
Completely trusting, blinded by the hanging lamp.
It won't hurt, so doctor please just cut.
Bloody plasmic mess,
Pressure to suppress,
Wide open arteries, surgical misery.
No anesthetics. Painless, no distress.
She carves a circle in my chest.
I don't contest, just attest.
Let her carve into me, at my own request.
Just promise, no cardiac arrest.
She pulls out my heart.
Leaving my entire chest hollow.
No more emotions,
the hardest pill to swallow.
But it is why I'm here.
No reason to fear.
Doctor, all I ask is you don't hurt it anymore.
You do what you want with it, it's completely yours.
Now I'm heartless, and only function with my brain.
Emotionless logic was the only way to sustain.
My future seems brighter,
All my loves spent, cut from the source.
I feel so much lighter, of course.
It was the heart.
Thank you doctor, for pulling me apart,
making me feel so alive.
The love, the emotions, the surgery,
my new will to survive.
Thats when she said,
"Darling, it's all in your head. You've been dead since we first met."
I close my eyes
So I can see you
That I'm still in your heart
I clench my hands
So I can feel you
That I'm still inside of you
I rub my heart
To ponder... that you still care for me
I call my soul
To wonder... you're my home in me
You opened my eyes,
Covered and blinded
Under the dark skies
You softened my hands,
Rough and burnt
Under the sun that dries
You revived my restless body
And lifted up my spiritless life
You brought back
The smile in me
And laughter, long buried
Inside of me
You are my home
My heart and my soul
Wherever I am
I carry you with me
I walk in your footsteps
Holding my heart with your forceps
My strength in my biceps
My shield above my triceps
Your shoulder
Is my armor
Tempered with ardor
Your heart is my home
My heart that dwells in chrome
I know a place; no one likes to be there,
yet nearly everyone I know has gone
to sit with trepidation in a chair,
and then reclined, each person sits and drools
while helplessly they stare up at the face
of someone who is cramming too big tools
inside their mouth, which has too small a space -
too little space to have to let inside
large forceps or that vacuum that lets pass
the grime collecting in mouths open wide!
Perhaps some go just for the laughing gas!
But go we must - and sit still for the drill,
enough sometimes to make a grown man ill.
Written June 17, 2016
for the If it hurts so bad, why do we do it? Poetry Contest of Silent One
Four Short Poems for the Apocalypse
Poem #1 – “Reality Bites”
Feeling so hopeless.
Feeling the loss somewhere inside.
I can feel it, but I don’t know quite where.
Reality bites.
Feeling so awkward and sad.
I knew it was bound to happen.
But still,
I can’t get it out of my mind.
The last time I saw her,
There in that stuffy smelly room,
She was shooing the demons away.
It is true.
The gods make those who are about to die
As mad as gadflies
Without blood to suck.
Reality bites.
Feeling so empty.
Feeling the loss somewhere inside.
I thanked the stars the night she died.
Poem #2 – “Part Biscuit Part Bone”
I shiver when I think about it.
Getting’ up at four in the morning to walk six miles.
There is only one fool who would do such a thing.
My brain is sometimes cracked like my sidewalk.
It must be part biscuit, part bone.
But when I walk in the darkness
The entire world is mine.
I am the only one alive
And I salute the ghosts in the shadows.
They want my soul
And I want their ethereal essences.
I shiver when I think about it.
Maybe death is like a walk at four.
There is only one fool who would think that.
It must be part biscuit, part bone.
Poem #3 – “Baked Babylon”
Squeezing the forceps, handlessly
Like a pair of tweezers with no grip.
I groan and suffer alone.
Like Grover Cleveland back in 1892
When his cancerous jaw was dug into
By mustached doctors wearing pink carnations,
Digging and gouging and tugging
Like some gravedigger looking for soft earth.
Baked Babylon is my grease.
Let it smoke and oilize.
I want death for myself, no one else.
One billion children do not deserve the incineration.
Poem #4 – “Why Am I Thinking?”
Why am I thinking?
Is it because I stink?
Is it because I’m stuck breathing?
Why am I dying?
Is it because life is a game with no winners?
Is it because I seek pleasure in a world of pain?
Why am I crying?
is it because life is so futile?
Is it because death is the best part?
Why am I thinking?
Is it because I can’t help it?
Can’t help stopping the inevitable?
Oh death!
You wait for me over there,
Like a forlorn lover,
Behind shaded curtains in the night.
As I entered the dissection hall with trepidation
My insides churned with disgust
When I set eyes on the cadaver
I felt scared and squeamish, but to continue was a must
I slipped on my gloves
And held up my forceps in my hand
As I looked around at my comrades
I felt I was far from wonderland
Our teacher told us to look down
And appreciate the structures we see
All I could think of was
This is a dead body in front of me
I knew I had to overcome my fears
As medicine was my life
I mustered up all the courage I could
And plunged my forceps into the cadaver like a knife
Everyone was horrified
At the unforeseen cadaver destruction
But I had a strange feeling
Of relief and satisfaction
I knew this was the only way
To rid me of my fear
Now I felt I had triumphed
After having murdered a cadaver
I knew that was technically not possible
After all the cadaver was already dead
I knew I wont go to jail
For severing off a dead head
Now my fear was abolished
The next day I walked in with confidence
What I didn’t know was
I would have to do a harsh penance
My teached made me dissect cadaver after cadaver
Meticulously and carefully
This went on for days together
She showed me no mercy
After a point I began enjoying it
The smell of formalin became appealing
I reveled in the dissection
And slowing my anxiety began retreating
Today I’m thankfull to her
For believing in me
She didn’t let me give up
And made sure I grew from a sapling into a tree
Today I’m a cardiothoracic surgeon
And cadavers don’t excite me anymore
Its beating hearts that do
And long surgeries are therefore never a chore
I still remember my days as a medical student
While meeting the deadlines at the 11th hour
But the day I remember most fondly
Is the day I murdered a cadaver
I’m a revelation, a mutation, a mutilation,
Divine will and hysterical damnation.
One nation under a spell of castration.
I’m the chemical, you’re the academical,
Condemning the notion of free motion.
Polemical
Hearing
Healing
Break through the gold ceiling, persist to steal it.
Stuck in the system.
Dreaming
Not feeling pure.
Imagination ain’t real.
In my defence, I make sense, making cents, on innocents.
Coincide your incense with my expense,
Our expense is your offence.
Picket fence. Pick a side
Why so tense?
Test the tide
Have a drink. Will it quench
Nuclear war on my doorstep?
Divorce
Death
Drugs
Forceps
Forced steps, first steps,
Towards complex subjects of the same sex
The safe sex.
Ain’t safe sex going through glass bars
In a sidesplitting suplex?
Forced ideas. Safe paycheques
Forged ideals. Save apex.
Stereotypes
I’m the two time two sided too tired top model.
I’m the type to go mono.
One nation under one channel.
That’s our new motto.
Form:
With the sun in the forceps
Of an ageless night,
The bells at the lighthouse toll
Until they are merely sterile
Breaths.
Occasionally, a ghostly whisper
Validates and dissects
Each tear, each truth.
I can't imagine their loneliness-
watching light burn
Until it is as small as a flea,
While we endure engulfed
In light,
Principals of refuge
And shadow.
Slide back the action,
The hammer clicks,
Reaction,
Pin hits the primer resulting in a kick,
I exit the barrel causing disruption.
I give no thought to my victim,
No mercy when I hit them,
Shredding flesh and shattering bone,
Pray one of I doesn't visit your home.
Cold now,
They try to remove me,
Forceps grip the portion they see,
I am pulled from my created cavity,
Men shudder at the damage I allow.
What am I,
A piece of lead coated in copper,
But packed in a casing with powder you can see,
The death I have to offer.
Hey s'up Joe? You bring the beer?
Yup, I'll set it here within our reach.
You know, we've been at this a year..
I see you got that last part complete.
This book sure was a nice find, Bill.
Yeah, though I'm not sure about these kits.
What ya mean?. Hand me that wrench...
This section gotta be sterile; put on yer mitts.
Okay..use the forceps, it's tricky..don't flinch.
Alright..install..hardware and secure into ..main assembly...
How?! ...What?!... You gotta be a liar!
Now, ya made me nervous, my hands are all trembly.
Huh! Yup. Says right there..use bailing wire!
This is critical,.. gimme the pliers.
Okay, it says to install this thing over here.
Install it?! ..I cant even pronounce it!
But I'll try it... Hand me another beer.
Now solder the what to the who?
That thing-ama-gig to the whatzit rod?
Oh I get it .It all makes sense now,.. I think.
Then this gets installed into the Pod.
Flap A goes into center slot C,
Oh now it's comin' together!
That's so tab B can slip on into slot D!!
High fives! Let's grab another brew!
'Nother four cases or so and I'll be waivin' by by!
Yep, hook that whatyacallit to the computer and Presto!
And then, Buddy, you'll be flying high!
What you thinkin' on? Why you drinkin' so slow?
Well, ..do your neighbors still think this is a Silo?
Ah don't worry,.. they're just a couple of rummies,
or else. ..they would have kept this book, Joe!....
On "How To Build a Spaceship For Dummies"!
trapped,
safeguarded,
each appendage
secured in amber,
some Jurassic specimen
created for your gaze
you regard me
with a quizzical eye,
comb your notes carefully
for collected data
on my anomalies
how to straighten this limb,
shape this abdomen,
bend this thorax
to fashion the perfect
exemplar of your
scientific prowess
no manufactured artifice
will satisfy you
you deftly maneuver
and rearrange,
cut and reassemble,
manipulating your scalpel
and forceps
until you have your prize,
flawless and complete,
but for the glue
leaking from the seams
Word Painting In Black and White
Cubed ice dismantling the plank bridge with pliers
made of syrup spilled with a dash of grief and brawn
the reptilian doughboy mixes up another cosmic batch
of truth cookies designed to mislead with wishes of
the big power grab all manifesting inside the largest
television set ever devised with a flat screen as big as
a flying saucer that has at last come down to earth
so large and compelling my eyes were sucked out of
my sockets for five seconds of blind purgatory something
I thought of as an impossibility what with the moon landings
in the last century and all the heart transplants with
a dozen doctors dedicating a day of grueling hours with
silver forceps and scalpels designed to cut and close
as with all relationships between a tight skirt and a mustache
on the floor by a black vent kissing with fingers touching and
moans muffled by the hand of fear there on the green carpet
in a mad darkness by the black vent and the trees with lemons
invading from days and decades earlier when young women
found the tile smooth and electric with sharp tingling sensations
on naked nubile skin rubbed down with cold creams made of fish
ransacking a thousand anchored ships with knives made of pearl by
old pipe-smoking hippies who make love all day with sprawling girls
looking for hot thrills inside gardens made of stone and bootleg love.
Oblivion Contest
Sponsor: Rob Carmack
Unconscious while the universe fights against her,
Not aware of the hell that awaits in the next room,
Not established in her secure mentalities,
Now all that awaits her is the wrath of gloom.
Misunderstood by her trusted fellowship,
Everything she longed for burned to ashes,
She contemplates on why he has left her,
And all night memories, the picture flashes.
As morning awakes she's still in limbo,
Tortured mistakes as she cries of regret,
What could she have done differently?
And the bad times she starts is forget.
Broken and torn, confused and forlorn,
This nightmare became her reality,
Why she wishes he'd stay forever,
She remembers her forgiving loyalty.
All the times he has beaten and abused her,
The controlling insults from carelessness,
Leaving her lonely and solitaire,
Her friend came is visit, hopelessness.
Oblivious to the pain she starts to walk,
Ending up on his wicked doorstep,
He invites her in once again,
She forgets the agony from his forceps.
Date Written: December 6, 2015
The world has never been smaller,
we’re making strides for peace,
bonds of trade and the internet
bring us closer, at least.
an age where the old armed conflicts
may finally be no more—
(If your really want a lasting peace,
prepare yourselves for war)
It’s our job to make sure people
do not slip through the cracks,
the state can step up and provide
for folks who sorely lack.
Socialism can look after
the forgotten of the earth—
(One hundred million dead agree,
this idea never works.)
Our age of great equality
rewards the female sex,
women have taken the workplace,
what will they take on next?
The barriers that still remain
will know the righteous fight—
(Yet no job brings fulfillment like
raising up the kids right.)
We’re taking on the patriarchy,
demonize toxic males!
All men who follow their nature must
be attacked without fail.
Don’t they know that it’s a new day,
both feminine and wise—
(When men aren’t allowed to be men
Civilizations die.)
Let us make peace in the Middle East,
they’re all misunderstood,
their faith is no different than ours,
it’s done a lot of good.
Let’s tolerate the Islamist,
it’s time to heal these scars—
(Why don’t you ask a Yazidi girl
how ‘tolerant’ they are?)
We’re building a safer world,
it’s not the wild west,
to speak of firearms is wrong,
even if done in jest.
All the right folk agree with this,
anyone with a brain—
(The day that you give up your guns
is the day you wear chains.)
A woman should not be made to
carry unwanted kids,
and there should be no question if
she wants to abort it.
You see it’s just a clump of cells,
we know this to be true—
(Now imagine if your own mother
put the forceps to you.)
Those Midnight Infatuations
1.
You're the water
on the phone Sun
that I crave.
To become the
dopamine blocker
in my brain.
2.
I am the minuscule rolled balls
of lent you pull at
on clothing
swiftly thrown away
making nerves
skip over your skin
holding hand in hand.
3.
My feet knotted with yours
but as the moon hits the glass
of week old water
on the oak nightstand
it shows you are just
another shadow I have
glued to my side.
4.
The tip of your
dry cracked finger
traces the outline
of the old water ring stain.
From whisky glasses
next to the bed.
Quick to turn back around
as he comes back in the room.
5.
Hot water consumes you
as liquid swirling
around your shriveled feet
turns crimson and all they can say
when arriving is
they did all they could
but I guess you didn't love
me enough to stay.
6.
You became a permeant
nettle deep in my
limbic system
and the only way
to remove you
would to get rid of
part of me
forceps tick
the folds of my brain
severing most ties
to the rest of my body
but you would like that
wouldn't you?
7.
The distortion lens
you blinded me with
is the reflections
I see in coffee
only to get muckier
as you pushed
me away until the very end.
8.
The crevasses of your skin
crinkled like dew-fallen paper
left outside for too long
when the folds in
your lips cracked
when you smiled
shame the only thing
to see that is dirt.
Twisting, spinning, upside down
Scraping, sliding sideways, air bags deployed
Blackness, calm, conscious, seat belt bound
visions flashing through his brain
Does not know who, someone has bled
Dash lights blurry, silence
"Megan, Megan!"
"Oh, my God, my daughter"
“Forceps..Clamp...watch the heart beat.”
“Doctor we’re losing him, No, he’s back”
“Dad, you’re hurt!!!”
“Hush sweet, I have to hurry
Your seat belt jammed,
My knife, I’ll cut it, you crawl away.
Call help on the Cell phone....
Must lie down”
“I don’t like those spikes, more oxygen, mo...”
“It’s no use doctor”, as the line went flat.
“I know. I must tell my wife her father died”.
Jul 03 2010 For Joe’s “poem that does not rhyme” contest