Impossible for us to be dismembered

Please refrain from rhetorical questions
You are already aware
Of the deep affection I feel
For your valuable cardiac tissue.

I was upright on my lower limbs
You were in the vicinity
The orbits of two planets intersected violently
And it was impossible for us to be dismembered.

Our lifespans could exceed the norm
By a factor of ten or more
But if you sustained an injury for which I was causally responsible
I'd prepare an alcoholic beverage from your ocular secretions.

I informed you of the possibility
Of aerial transport
Because everybody has wings
But a number of people remain ignorant of the reason for this.

I was upright on my lower limbs
You were in the vicinity
The orbits of two planets intersected violently
And it was impossible for us to be dismembered.

True love

You are the cheese to my sky
You are the horizon to my eggs
You are the bacon to my sneakers
You are the laces to my peanut butter
You are the jelly to my face
You are the smile to my mashed potatoes
You are the gravy to my bath
You are the bubbles to my cookie
You are the milk to my pen
You are the ink to my french fries
You are the ketchup to my ocean
You are the water to my cupcake
You are the icing on my macaroni

Clouds in my coffee

In the middle of my day I found myself lost in a bureaucratic meeting.  People were talking words that I knew but their meaning was obscure to me.  There was discussion of leveraging client actualities, of service overlap, and of negative expression of emotion prior to an upcoming facility transfer.

So I wrote some poems in the haiku style instead.

There's a cardboard box in our doctors' office that has the coffee supplies in it.  On the sides are written poems in the haiku style about or inspired by coffee.  Coffee haikus - I hear you think - what a bunch of hipsters. And truly, there is no defence against such an accusation.  The ones I wrote are pretty damn good though...

A warm cup to hold
To take the place of a hand.
Welcome to the tribe.

Black? White? Some sugar?
Do you embrace or mask the
Bitterness of life?

Apocrypha

I usually have a small notepad secreted somewhere about my person where I jot down phone numbers, book references, interesting quotes, and other things that I am otherwise liable to quickly forget.  Scattered throughout the book will be little seeds of ideas for things to post about here.  About half the time I follow up on it.  About half the rest of the time I'll decide the idea is a dud.  Very occasionally I'll decide that an idea is good but would be more effort to complete than I'm prepared to give.  And the rest of the time I find the note at some later date and think to myself, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?  I must have been smoking crack."

Sometimes I can look at a note and clearly remember the circumstances under which I wrote it - just not what the note actually signifies.  Sometimes a note makes me think of something quite definite - but I'm pretty sure it's not what I meant myself to think of when I wrote it.  Sometimes a note is truly mysterious - it's in my hand but I have no memory of it at all.

Here's a collection of extinct blog prompts from the last couple of years.  It resembles the ravings of a madman, so I've chosen to arrange it visually to resemble poetry - the poetry of driftwood and lost balloons and old photos. 

Muntries
Sealink!

favourite bowl

Thar she blows!

character "in" a book - from? of?

Greatest American Hero

Wolf Creek Cafe
Calendars and other people's dogs
egogram

Kit fox

itch! actual ants!

glasses with bizarre sideboards

Shadow puppet - doctor?

Sad second-hand stores

HOTKEYS = NERDS

CREATION - FRANKENSTEIN

David Bowie over 20 years

Body dysmorphic effect vs re-reading own writing

aqueous humour - watery joke?

visualizing blood vessels!

eating vs studying - good-bad or bad-good

gold injections!

stress reduction kit

only girls and Italians cook

presentation - ongoing fear

who wants a ride up?

SHOP ANGRY

tuning fork

BKA v DKA

chopping veggies - not dice!/cubed! chinese style

on screws

book cover/binder

concentrate on not reading things

awards for med school

a blob for you

psychic expo

smelling like chicken

towel - bee - cold - A-delta - alfalfa

lostradio - insulting people, standing in dog shit

Colonel Light's laser powers!
evil genius of Pat Rafter accumulating sinisterness
What's next?

The Doc Is A Cock

I sat in the clinic
I sat there all day
With nothing to do
And nothing to say

I sat there all morning
Just watching the clock
Because when I turned up
The Doc was a cock

When he saw me arrive
His door shut in my face
That Doc didn't want me
Right there in that place

So I sat in a chair
That was there by the door
And I waited and sat
And I waited some more

That chair I was in
Felt as hard as a rock
But I couldn't just leave
Cos the Doc was a cock

I knew that he'd badmouth me
All over town
I knew that he'd fail me
Not with a frown

But with a self-satisfied
Smirk on his beard
Which was just the expression
That everyone feared

So I made myself stand up
And go back to knock
On the door of the Doc
Who was such a big cock

He opened the door
When he saw me he sneered
Then he smirked all the way
From his toes to his beard

"Oh please let me in
to your clinic" I cried
"For I've heard you have
Marvelous patients inside"

"With murmurs to hear
And lungs to percuss
And hist'ries bizarre
That they'd like to discuss"

But the Doc was a cock
He said (just to be mean)
That I was the worst student
He'd ever seen

"You have not even seen me
Your claim is a crock"
Then he laughed in my face
Cos the Doc was a cock

But then he relented
Invited me in
Brought in a patient
And said "Let's begin"

"Perhaps you can tell me
From one simple look
From the moment you saw him
Why this man is crook"

I had no idea
I would have to fly blind
So I said anything
That came into my mind

"Is it Anderson syndrome?
Or arthrogryposis?
Moya-moya disease?
Or perhaps ichthyosis?"

"I know Miller's and Larsen's
And Marfan's and Plott's and
A whole host of others
Like Saethre-Chotzen"

"Perhaps it is Patau's
Perhaps Laurence-Moon
Or Pierre-Robin syndrome
Or Mounier-Kuhn"

When I looked at the Doc
His face had gone red
And I thought I saw steam
Coming out of his head

He showed me the door
And then turned the lock
But I really don't mind
Cos the Doc was a cock