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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 7 of 7. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Atticus on September 14, 2004, at 21:04:04
Bracelets of Torn Thoughts
Red sky’s raining brains,
Juicy gobbets of cortex,
An abattoir downpour
Of quivering pink and gray pudding,
Striking the pavement
Of my skull’s
Slick and solid inner surface
With succulent wet sounds
Like hot fistfuls
Of steaming raw meat
Hurled by indifferent
Slaughterhouse workers
As they plunge their arms
Up to their elbows
In cerebellum entrails,
Then bend to the task
Of mental disembowelment,
Their fingers digging
And
Their limbs swinging
In a spontaneous display
Of meat-hook choreography
As piece
By piece,
They claw at the shredded
Remnants of my mind.Pulsing strands
Of throbbing neurons
Dangle like gristle
From the crew’s meaty wrists,
Still wriggling
Like
Slender pale worms,
Writhing cat’s cradle tangles,
Bracelets of torn thoughts
Losing their coherence
As they probe
Feebly,
Futilely
For synaptic companionship,
A brotherhood
Of shared knowledge,
Of shared memories,
Of shared comprehension
That now lies splattered
Below them
In ankle-deep drifts
Of still-shrieking
Conscious meat
And in slowly swirling pools
Of weeping briny yellow fluids
That flow
Around the coarse leather
Of their tormentors’ work boots.Purplish bolts of chemical lightning
Erupt chaotically
Here and there
Amid the twitching
Slivers
Of dripping intellectual guts,
Illuminating the impassive faces
Of the workers
With occasional
Sputtering flashes,
Brief flares of dazzling light
That sizzle,
Then go dark,
The fading sparks
Visible,
For an instant,
Through the lenses
Of my eyes.
And I can do little now
But wait
For this shift
To end,
For the workers to shed
Their leather aprons
And shuffle
Away,
Leaving this charnel house
With walls
And floors of bone
In utter darkness,
As I begin anew
The never-ending task
Of sifting
Through the carnage
To see
What I can salvage
Of myself.
-- Atticus
Posted by Jai Narayan on September 14, 2004, at 22:04:21
In reply to poem ... Bracelets of Torn Thoughts, posted by Atticus on September 14, 2004, at 21:04:04
My god.....god...god.
Is this what's going on dear one?
You have such a fresh way of describing you passage through these hellish changes.
I was getting worried about you.....I too have been to a slaughter house.
Years ago I saw: twitching flesh, a cart full of eyes, green slime pouring forth from the cows mouths.
The men had sharp knifes that carved the flesh off the bones so fast that the cows were consciously dead.A man in an plastic apron pressed a newly carved piece of cow cheek into my hand. There had to be more to life that this electrically charged flesh. I was transformed. I instantly remembered my sexual perpetrator forcing his twitching flesh into the same hand.
To each their own hell.Atticus glad you are posting.
Posted by saw on September 15, 2004, at 2:35:19
In reply to poem ... Bracelets of Torn Thoughts, posted by Atticus on September 14, 2004, at 21:04:04
This touched me deeply. It probed some already very raw nerves, but in the nod your head kind of way.
A brilliant poem
Sabrina
Posted by Atticus on September 15, 2004, at 10:34:35
In reply to Re: poem ... Bracelets of Torn Thoughts, posted by Jai Narayan on September 14, 2004, at 22:04:21
Hi Jai,
I'm going through a pretty rough patch right now, and I honestly don't know what's worse: the illness (here embodied as emotionless slaughterhouse workers who show up without warning and go to their grim task) or my recent meds adjustment, which thus far only seems to be darkening my mood and flaying my perceptions further. Writing this seemed to help; I felt a little better after sharing what's going on inside my head with people who will understand. Atticus
Posted by Atticus on September 15, 2004, at 10:36:44
In reply to Re: poem ... Bracelets of Torn Thoughts, posted by saw on September 15, 2004, at 2:35:19
Thanks, Sabrina. My brain feels a bit like it's in a cuisinart right now. I appreciate your support and kind comments. Atticus
Posted by malthus on September 15, 2004, at 20:22:26
In reply to poem ... Bracelets of Torn Thoughts, posted by Atticus on September 14, 2004, at 21:04:04
Psyche gone haywire. A mangled mind hyper conscious of its wretched butchered body, overwhelmed by its bloody environment, a soul no longer able to adjust itself to a squalid stinking life and allowing the darkest beast within to finally bludgeon it out of its misery.
Then...
"As I begin anew
The never-ending task
Of sifting
Through the carnage
To see
What I can salvage
Of myself."Psyche joined with Eros, a reprieve from wretchedness, love creating the personification of the soul~~the possibility of mythical transformation giving life, breath, and spirit, a reprisal aimed at the jealous soulsucking Aphrodites temporarily banished, but always lurking in the shadows for another stealthy assault.
Posted by Atticus on September 15, 2004, at 20:52:56
In reply to Re: poem ... Bracelets of Torn Thoughts » Atticus, posted by malthus on September 15, 2004, at 20:22:26
Your dazzlingly worded analysis, a piece of poetry in its own right, is more timely than you may realize -- especially your conclusion. I think I just may be beginning to tie those flayed neurons back together. I talked with my doctor and lowered the dosage of my AD, and I'm starting to feel like I'm getting a bit of my groove back. I wrote the somewhat funkadelic poem "Dragon Scales on Subway Rails" tonight while just improvising on my keyboard like a jazz musician. I'm becoming increasingly more fascinated with sound and rhythm as opposed to images. ;) Atticus, feeling less rippin' and more trippin' in the brainpan
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