Long Under the knife Poems
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My days were numbered from the very start
I fought for every breath due to my heart
My PDA closing I started to gasp
Just trying to breathe became such a task
The medicines they worked for a couple of days
But my heart still beating like I was running a race
It was beating so fast it was wearing me out
My heart was failing there was not doubt
My parents were worried, distressed, and confused
The tears now flowing due to the news
Tomorrows the day I go under the knife
I’m not even two weeks and fighting for my life
My lactic’s were climbing and my function so poor
I had not the energy to play on the floor
I’m feeling so weak I just want to sleep
Something my mom is watching is starting to beep
I can hear them talking but just don’t understand
I am still comforted by the warmth of her hand
The tone in her voice as she started to speak
Something about Jesus and my soul to keep
I have my eyes closed but I still see a light
I’m am very little but I know something’s not right
I hear my mom cry as I took my last breath
But I am to young fear this thing they call death
The first thing I saw when I reached towards the glow
Was the figure of a man that for some reason, I know
He wrapped me in his arms and I felt so safe
I reached up to him and I touched his warm face
He spoke so softly and as not to startle me so
He told me he loved me and was letting me go
He told me a story of my life yet to come
That one day my living would be witness to some
I don’t know why and I still can’t explain
But I opened my eyes when I felt a sharp pain
I took a deep breath and I started to cry
I looked up to see mom with a tear in her eye
Still hooked to wires and lying in bed
For some reason I’m stronger and wanting to be fed
My parents don’t know it but I saw God that day
He gave me more time to frolic and play
God has his reasons that some live and some die
What some parents have to endure leaves a question. Why?
I know it’s not fair but I don’t question the choice
I am a witness for him and I still have a voice
My heart isn’t normal but it’s perfect you see
Because without it there’s no story, no poem about me
I’m one of Gods miracles a testament to his grace
I was only a week old but I got to touch Jesus face
As my son lie dying in the hospital i wrote this
Gray sky’s warm tear drops sad heart
Why do I cry on sight of a blue moon?
There are no flowers to soon to bloom
When is the sun going to shine?
Cloudy days bring rain to my
face
No ray of hope to bring me out of my depression
My sad eyes no longer smile can’t walk a mile
As fast as I use too weak to run away
Must face the noise in my head the tear drops
Cloud my vision the sadness much too deep
To find myself to profound are the scares that I wear
And the pain I can’t not bare to see myself in despair
Broken not ready to be spoken and fix
What’s inside my head the scares have not heal
What I feel is lonely and sad who can I turn to
Who can I trust to pick me up when I stumble and fall?
When those I trusted let me down believing all is fine
I wear the scares black and blue all up and down my arms
On a bad day silent tears comfort me
I am a mire reflection of myself no longer fiscally strong
A reflection of past memories a stronger me happier days
One day at a time fills my days sadness concludes my nights
Worry and despair takes my sleep weakness takes my energy
Aim fading like in eraser used on a sheet of paper
Where is my resolution my conclusion to my dilemma?
Some might say feeling sorry for my self is too easy
Not use to easy nothing came or comes easy in my life
Still I manage to pick myself up not completely healed
A mirror of scares reflection
of past times
Fighting to get back what under the knife took from me
Impossible time to move on easy said than done
Half the person I use to be looks back at me where can I go
When the black clouds fallow me trying to claim
Victory pill popping white coat visits
Stress burning a hole in my head half the person I use to be
A mere reflection looking back at me
Where did I go that early December Morning?
Love ones wait hours gone by to awake not the same
But half the person I use to be no passion lights gone dim
Still fighting to get back to myself and I separated
By health related issues to deep to come back from
It was two days before Christmas
Joe feared for his life
He had clearly forgotten
A gift for his wife
He sat on his bar stool
An ache in his heart
As he pondered his route
To the nearest Wal-Mart
He waved to his cronies
As he finished his beer
Wishing them riches
And holiday cheer
The snow had been swirling
And covered his car
For all of two hours
He had sat in the bar
Perhaps, yes perhaps
He could re paint the hall
Put up new drapes
And plaster the wall
Hubby was fretting
As he sat at the light
Would he please the old bat
By the end of the night?
He stepped on the gas
And plowed through the snow
Giving the finger to drivers too slow
At 6:21 he stopped at the mall
Jumped out of his car
And entered the "Wal"
Joe had a brain wave
As he pushed through the crowd
"I know what to buy her!"
He shouted out loud
"She doesn't need an ipod
New shoes or a mink
A plasma tv
Or a new kitchen sink"
She doesn't need diamonds
Or a portable phone
A fancey new blender
Boy, would she moan!"
Turning around
Joe raced for the door
Flew to his car
Pushed his foot to the floor
He knew that his wife
Just hated her chest
And thought right away
What gift would be best
A couple of implants
Would be the choice thing
A size 44 would
Make her heart sing
He stopped at a phone box
and flipped through the book
Searched for a doctor
To give her that look
He dialed Docs Bergen,
Cully and Lear
Who gave him an appointment
For the first of the year
With a grin on his face
He made for his house
Hoping his wife
Wouldn't call him a louse
He imagined her glee
When he broke the surprise
And thought of the wonderful
Glint in her eyes
A new set of boobs
In a size 44D
He chuckled and rang
His hands in such glee
So Christmas did come
And Joe broke his news
His wife glared at him
Saying "do I look like a flooze?"
So after some coaxing
And unneeded strife
Old Lizzy aagreed to
Go under the knife
So all was resolved
And due to Joe's knack
They eagerly awaited
Lizzy's new rack
and suddenly all bets are off---
wondering how it all summed up itself in such a way
as if the body would last forever, as if this thing that exists
to cart your sorry ass around
would stand tall & unique amidst the wreckage of
“civilization”---
now completely vulnerable & in the hands of people
you’ve never met, your pride gets thrown to the wayside &
whatever you were before you laid down on the bed
(or were lifted upon because you had no strength to do it yourself)
seems rather irrelevant now.
like a wo/man stranded with no money in a country of which the
language & the culture they do not share
you walk through your experience trying to clench onto every moment
where every action is determined by others in a kind of language that
you are not familiar with
where the technicalities mean everything & behind the blue masks
they say things with their eyes often
as throw you off of the serious nature which comes with
every move.
the present is more present than it ever has been before &
what seems most important really is not as scary as it had been
only minutes before---
no matter the amount of money that society says you will
pay for the rest of your life
as a result of getting sick, of feeling pain, of ending up on this bed
amidst the gaze of strangers,
one fact that remains certain,
that if you were not on that bed waiting for the anesthesia & then the
slicing,
you would not be waiting for anything.
this procedure will prolong the inevitable &
it will place you in a group with others whose perspective
may or may not have changed as a result---
if anything, you know now more than you ever did
that it all ends up as nothing &
you are worked on like a car in a shop
so that your mere existence can implement some kind of
domino effect in the reality that comes after you cease
when all your experiences topple onto someone, something, somewhere
else,
each meaningless in its own way,
each struggling to stay afloat, to breathe,
to find another reason to laugh.
Others, and my children, wanted to understand the meaning of life.
As I’d recently had surgery number 7, yes, gone under the knife.
It’s simple, you see… And it’s not so very hard to believe…
I once met God and understand, what for some, is hard to perceive.
That while we’re here, Love is what everything is all, totally, about.
We get… so very lost in the every day and the mundane, no doubt.
When almost gone, the love of friends, family, and life is like the sun.
When God asks what you’ve done, as you see the harm you’ve won.
You’ll cringe at those things, not left behind, but what you have done.
You’ll wish you’d stopped, helped lighten, others lifes, along life’s run.
So I’ve decided to make life brighter, if only with a little written fun.
I’ve helped strangers as I can, time and again… while life did run.
And yes there’s always someone we’ve hurt, and left behind in the dirt.
But we must try, and then must ask forgiveness for their, terrible hurt.
We can’t always see, how we hurt others, you see, we live under a veil.
That deadens the sight of what we have done to other’s lives, so all fail.
But we also… have been given the time and chance to do some right.
A kind word, a little help, to change the world, make it, more bright.
The miracles you see, are from others, that want the world, to be…
As God wants, full of love and full of, way more, abundant, good deeds.
We must try to make others smile, if only for a small, brief, little while.
Yes, we must try to make our life better, so to help others, some how.
And we must bow down and give thanks for our own, special, little lives.
For some, their mission is to help others, with them, to begin to thrive.
For some it is more, but with all, a simple spark of hope, takes them far.
Be God’s hand, even in small simple ways, give hope, along the way…
Written 9-21-2015
I called for my dearest oldest friend, on my death bed as I was reaching the end.
I said... “Before I am laid to rest, I need to get a few things off my chest.
And when I am finished please reply, so that in peace on my bed I can finally die.”
And I cried...
“In the beginning we walked hand in hand, building dreams and playing in the sand.
But it seems you changed and so did I. I wanted to walk and you wanted to fly.
It seems like you always had something to prove. You only slowed down, when I wanted to move.
You slipped away and quickly were spent. I'm still not sure exactly where you went.
I found true love, but it didn't find me. A new friend broke my heart and left it to bleed.
You came and healed me, drying my tears. To lose you again was by biggest fear.
So I tried to keep up and change with you. Your moods would swing from the sun to the moon.
You never stopped when I wanted to cry. You didn't even wait when my father died.
I went under the knife for the damage you've caused. The surgeon said it was all your fault.
You gave me gray hair at age 29. You were supposed to be on my side.
You ran out on me when I most needed you. But I must confess, that I hurt you too.
I took you for granted and made such a waste of all your chances and gifts that you gave.
I threw you away like yesterday's dinner. If I killed you would that make me a Saint or a sinner?
You've given me wisdom and taught me patience. For good memories, I will always be gracious.
There are things about you I could never love, but my mother warned me you could get tough.
You robbed me like a thief in the night! So look me in the eye! And tell me! Why?"
The room went silent as I peered in those eyes and you know my friend never could tell a lie. So I had to laugh at the reply....
"Tick Tock. Tick Tock”.....said my old friend, Time.
I relaxed on the couch to feel at ease,
the psychiatrist sat across from me.
This wasn’t any normal physician-
He was my subconscious personified.
A flow of panic surged through my body-
Beads of sweat slowly trailed down my face-
My heart began beating erratically-
My eyes darted in search of an exit-
There wasn’t an exit available!
The sense of fear was running down my spine,
I’m trapped within the walls of my own mind
taunted by the horrors that lie within.
The psychiatrist peered through my file
his eyes scrutinized every incident.
I coughed to break the silence in the room,
but it still constricted the atmosphere.
He initiated conversation:
a trivial attempt to gain rapport.
We discussed my past and current events.
Each story was surgically dissected;
it was torture being under the knife.
I was wide awake through the incisions;
helpless against the tools of a madman.
I grimaced through the pain of memories-
I opened old wounds then they were sown shut-
I’m plagued by a beast that lingers inside-
I need to run before I’m devoured!
My inner turmoil came to a close;
he arrived at a clear diagnosis.
He noted the cycling mood changes:
a constant battle between highs and lows.
The faulty sense of attachment issues
bred in from a childhood beginning.
Sporadic moments of self-destruction;
accompanied by parties and drinking.
The guilt from burning bridges to loved ones
constructed my imposed wall to the world.
He told me he understands my poems
and the theme behind each one I wrote.
From the introspection, private musings
love, temptations and whimsical humor;
it’s a way to channel my redemption
to add a purpose to this unhinged life.
The meeting was officially over.
I unraveled a new revelation:
I’m a continual work in progress
finding my road to a recovery.
It was a movement 70 million strong
So the CCP decided to annihilate Falun Gong
You wouldn’t think the movement was much of a threat
It was non-political, but its doom was set.
Normally a good thing – new organs extend life
But China put Falun folks under the knife
Organ transplants became a revenue source
That evil still has not run its course.
The details make your heart freeze
The best organs come from donors without disease
Donors shouldn’t be old, and not dead for long
What better source than the Falun Gong?
Dr. Zheng Zhi witnessed a tied down young man
Still alive, doctors and staff carried out the plan
Cut out his kidneys, corneas, death by operation
The man's eyes still haunt Zheng, shame of a nation.
Eyes desperate and fearful and in pain
An enemy of the people, annihilated for gain
Still alive, inside him a silent scream
Macabre, hard to believe, must be a bad dream.
Its valid to be cautious when extreme evil is assigned
In a word full of paranoia, we must keep a skeptical mind
But it's also true when brakes are off, and ethics go down hill
You end up in a place where medical staff torture and kill.
Many of us use Chinese media like TikTok every day
We buy Chinese products, our colleges take their pay
Under Mao, millions died, but that was then, now to get facts
we rely on testimony, and indirect stats.
But skeptics must realize beneath normality’s veneer,
Evil may flourish, and innocents disappear.
Let's hope this doesn't show what they'd do to you, if they could
Goodness without strength, always loses to strength without good.
The movement preached compassion, seventy million strong,
But the hard men with the power annihilated Falun Gong.
Jellyfish! Who could have named you
other than a creature structured
by a cage of bone?
Opaque but transparent
your arrested evolution
lives in an alien perfection.
You abide inside the sea, yet billowing that sea
through your bald, bladder body.
Propelled by the encompassing
and likewise, encompassed and captured
by that which fills and surrounds you.
Jellyfish, not a fish nor jellied
but muscular and powerful
yet in a strange, smooth-sided way
the way the deep is. Slick and slippery
as oleo. At once both a slack rippling
and a tenacious tough whiplash of power.
Your form a confliction,
a mass of otherworldly contradiction.
Under the knife
your body defies reason,
until we see the aerodynamics,
the subcutaneous aquatic precision
of your parts.
That glistening hood,
the bell shaped corpus of you,
but no brain just a stomach pouch
in place of any mentality,
perhaps your thoughts float free
inside that gaseous umbrella of your mind?
Multiple eyes dotted around the hood
like inky portholes.
A sallow mandible mouth
tucked like a fist under your hood
from which those ‘oral arms’
fan away from
to reach and gather morsels of meat.
These your only speech
as you consume a thrashing utterance.
Loosely arrayed about those mouth appendages,
are long trailing tentacles,
each sensitive feeler equipped
with venomous cells encrusted with barbs
that bite with a poisonous ferocity.
Jelly fish, your anatomy is upside down
and inside out, and yet
we cannot doubt the impeccable necessity of you,
the point of you,
and perhaps even the point of us
as we search
for that germinal sea within.
Many people look into the mirror,
and only see their imperfections...
I have mine and laugh about them;
when famous people go under the knife,
surgeons get rich and to them they bow.
Why perfection is so sought after today?
Not all are born beautiful, some are born deformed,
and those are the ones who shouldn't be happy;
others abuse their bodies in horrendous ways,
and ignore the importance of being loved.
A pop star did just that, and he went to the extremes
to change the color of his skin to look like someone else;
he should have been proud and satisfied of how he looked!
I wasn't the handsomest guy, but somehow a miracle occurred:
I had an in-depth analysis and I felt truly beautiful!
Society creates the perfect images of famous individuals worldwide,
they become their own gods, not feeling the importance of being loved,
they look pretty from the outside, but deep down they're slowly dying;
why resemble models who are put on a starvation diet to look good
on fashion shows in Milan, Paris and New York...have they gone insane?
Reflect on your life with careful consideration, find the hidden beauty
that each one of us possess, not neglecting the importance of being loved;
have you ever noticed children how they mingle...how they love one another?
Do they see any of the defects in their bodies, or point out their differences?
Certainly not, they amuse themselves and playing they feel beautiful!