WHAT DOES SHE KNOW, SHE'S JUST A TECHNICIAN- a poem

 

What do I know I’m just a technician

I only have a meagre 13 years’ experience

You’d like to do some microscope acquisition?

Nah don’t look for me I’m just a technician

 

How much was that new microscope Ki?

Just under a million, I reckon ay?

When will it be our lab’s turn to try?

We want to look at our mutant fruit fly

 

Don’t come to me I’m not an expert

What do I know of the microscope invert

Mind that 30k lens on the objective turret

Scratches and crashes you may want to avert

 

What do I know I’m just a technician

I’m not a high browed grey-haired academician

I know which scopes have better transmission

I can probably explain complex super resolution

 

I must have a use or why am I employed

I help image cells, tissues, organoids and spheroids

But yet when I raise techniques to avoid

I get treated like I’m not even humanoid

 

What do I know I’m just a technician

What do I know about photon emission

Or about the importance of experiment repetition

What do I know I’m just a technician

 

 

 

 

 

Authenticity or Death

Authenticity or Death

From the first self awareness
To the first suppressed breath
To the first dissociation
It's authenticity or death

Mid twenties

panic attacks

hearing voices

figuring out sources

Doctors,

medications,

therapists, 

treatments

Naming the condition

trauma dissociations

emotional and psychological manipulations

of a very young child

Not my words, 

but great relief

To know what's wrong

Trauma dissociations
Reintegrations

Living with conditions

It's authenticity or death

when authenticity is suppressed

the wound is not visible

but when you split a personality

and lock it in a closet

one day it will escape

and if not acknowledged

not listened to

attempt to repress

it may quite end in death

Self harm, suicidal ideation

a mess of thoughts a short of breath

A choice, or not, an eventual decision

acknowledgement, acceptance

It's authenticity or death.