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Compulsion 6
you say you will not do it
never again
this sickness this sickening thing
inside you
you smile
you breathe
your stomach begins to deliver a speech
this cannot be
denial, denial, denial of the natural color of your hair
one that blends
with your skin
one that speaks the words that your tongue
has been keeping
the one that you hide
and pretend it is not there
it grows
and becomes big and so visible
you knife it out
never shall it heal
this wound this life
this is what you are
and ever shall be
forever, and yet you keep it hidden
funny, because they are all seeing it
and speaking about it
it seems, you are the only one
mute, deaf, blind and so dumb
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sickness
he cannot imagine himself
now
swallowing from pill to pill
his stomach
becoming more like
a pharmaceutical
storage cabinet
there is a pill for his
numb arms
another pill for his
acidic stomach
more pills for him
to sleep
another pill for his
throat infection
another one for his
allergies
side effects of some
drugs that he had been
taking
this sickness into death
until one day
he refuses any pill
not that he cannot pay the bill
he is ready for
the thrill
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When ego is fed…
Someone would remember me:
My stomach goes full.
Someone would be grateful to me:
My stomach goes full.
Someone would broadcast of me:
My stomach goes full.
Someone would long for me:
My stomach goes full.
Whenever ego gets food,
The stomach is fed without food.
05.05.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sickness II
I am sick lying on your hospital bed,
So you can play with my nakedness if you want to;
Because this is the only time that you can see my nakedness!
For this sickness had made it possible.
Sickness, oh sickness! !
Sickness had made it possible for you to see my nakedness;
If not, you can't even smell my sight at anytime.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Stomach with food
Dont full
Fill your stomach...at
Food...
Stomach is
Full fill
The food...
Only at only
With waste of
Basket...
Making
At your stomach...
Drink...
Eat...
A llways
With your stomach
Limet... limet...
Healf stomach
Is good...
Bada full food
Eating...
Mothley once
ok...
Every day
Not better for
Your body health...
Diside to eat food...
Daily...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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The superior doctor prevents sickness; The mediocre doctor attends to impending sickness; The inferior doctor treats actual sickness.
The superior doctor prevents sickness;/ The mediocre doctor attends to impending sickness;/ The inferior doctor treats actual sickness.
With Sickness Comes Sadness
WITH SICKNESS COMES SADNESS
With sickness comes sadness
Will one ever escape?
The hurt of life
Hurts more deeply
Each day.
Sickness is sadness-
And I am afraid-
Will I ever be,
Healthy and Happy,
Again?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Strange Sickness.
You are the reason for my illness,
You are the remedy for my sickness,
The strange sickness attacks me,
By increasing my heart's rhythm,
Giddiness in the head,
Palpitation at the chest,
Loss of appetite and
Scores of other symptoms,
Feeling quite hot when you are far,
Feeling strange when you are near,
All people seem to be happy and smile,
When you hold my hands,
Everyone seem to be sad and cry,
When you go away from me,
What sickness is this so strange,
That is induced by you?
What sickness is this so unique,
That is cleared by you?
You are the reason for me to be awkward,
Giggle at my mother when she scolds,
You are the reason for me to be childish,
When my father checks my progress,
You are the reason for me to flunk,
Two three subjects all of a sudden,
I am not ashamed of that failure, my love,
As long as you are the cause,
And the remedy for my sickness..
Something in you causes this!
Something in you clears this!
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sickness
Hey little girl you re black and blue
Hey little girl you re six foot two
I know a man who loved too hard
He lost his mind it wasn t hard
Over this slckness
Over this slckness
Over this slckness
This slckness of love
Cute little knees that you got
Out in the dark parking lot
Cute little voice whispering
I know a man lost everything
Over this sickness
Over this sickness
Over this sickness
This sickness of love
Hey little girl i m almost through
Hey little girl i m almost you
Hey little girl the river runs
Hey little girl the rising sun
Over this sickness
This slckness of love
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Outside
They took away
my money and bag
took away my
house and land
lay me on the sand.
I am here
near ganga
and in empty stomach.
I am here
near mahodadhi
and in empty stomach.
I am here
looking Nilachakra
alldays always
in empty stomach.
They snatch away
may language
They thrown me out
from the sky
they are my nearby.
who is there
outside my house
where is my earth
where is my worth.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The Opposite Begins
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
That one agitated,
Finds an exit and splits.
People known to create conflict,
Seek an attention they don't get...
Until,
The opposite begins.
Opposition steps in.
They pretend a trust to believe,
To have others perceive but...
The opposite begins,
For them.
Wake up and take notice,
That the opposite begins for them.
Those who charade innocence.
The opposite begins for them.
Those masking evil intent.
The opposite begins for them.
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
Well,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
And...
That one agitated,
Finds an exit and splits.
But then,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
That one who's had it,
Splits and runs into love...
To know the opposite begins,
When someone genuine comes in...
To view.
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
Well,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
And...
That one who's had it,
Splits and runs into love...
To know the opposite begins,
When someone genuine comes in...
To view.
They want it quick.
And...
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
To then see someone who genuinely fits,
Well...
The opposite begins pursued.
Oh yes it does.
An opposite begins pursued.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Pessimist In A Poem...
the sickness of humanity
is looking for a cure
and trusting about the herbs of
words
humanity keeps on writing
until it finds the
cure,
there seems to be
nothing,
there is no remedy
on the sickness of our humanity
it begs
nothing is given
it is thirsty and remains
to be one
it is hungry (for love, for compassion
for warmth, and understanding
for food
and shelter and embrace)
and it so remains to
be one
hungry world
there is no cure, its sickness
remains forever
until you come in
to tell the world that it is wrong
you are the savior
of this sickness of humanity
when you cease to be
one of them.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Following The Sickness
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
Fighting our own shadows, fooled by our enemies.
They are the ones you just can't see.
The unaccepted theory is rejected yet again.
But still the chorus plays.
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
To whom it may concern.
A poetic letter, dressed in feathers.
Does it make it any prettier?
A distraction from the purpose.
Delivering the simplest of messages.
And still they are not heard.
Oh no they are never heard.
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
And man is yet to learn.
And man is yet to learn.
Foolish know it alls.
A change in circumstances will cause a sudden fall.
A broken bone, or ego?
A laceration or a severed artery?
Is it serious or superficial?
An inflamation that just won't go down.
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
And it has brought me here.
A million passersby's.
An angelic looking sky.
Prying the heavens for just one peek.
I wonder if it has what I seek.
A cure
A cure
For this world.
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
If you are ever lost just follow the sickness.
Its everywhere.
Just go from there.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Journey
when you can look
in the mirror,
and see your self naked
without running like hell...
the journey begins!
when you can look
at your every action,
judging your self honestly
by motive and intent...
the journey begins!
when you can give away
all that you cling to
without asking for anything
in return...
the journey begins!
when you can do the right thing
irregardless of the cost,
not caring what anyone says
or thinks...
the journey begins!
when you can see the faces
of God in the people you
despise the most, the ones
who've hurt you the most...
the journey begins!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A contented stomach, a forgiving heart; but an empty stomach pardons nothing.
When the Bush Begins to Speak
They know us not in England yet, their pens are overbold;
We're seen in fancy pictures that are fifty years too old.
They think we are a careless race - a childish race, and weak;
They'll know us yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
'The leaders that will be', the men of southern destiny,
Are not all found in cities that are builded by the sea;
They learn to love Australia by many a western creek,
They'll know them yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
All ready for the struggle, and waiting for the change,
The army of our future lies encamped beyond the range;
Australia, for her patriots, will not have far to seek;
They'll know her yet in England when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
We'll find the peace and comfort that our fathers could not find,
Or some shall strike the good old blow that leaves a mark behind.
We'll find the Truth and Liberty our fathers came to seek,
Or let them know in England when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Stomach cry
Eat
Too
Eat...
Stomach was full
Not stand
Not sit
Not walk...
Waa waa
Marrage dinner...
Mind happy
Stomach on
Body is crying...
With up
And down
with gas..ss..
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Buy Yours Now While Civilisation Lasts
Just as we prepare to celebrate
the season of sparkling white and winter fuel,
piss on earth and extended drinking hours
there steals a hooded headline
whose threatening menace
turns your stomach over with
the sickness of mankind to man:
Builders at a research facility
at Oxford University
now wear ski-masks although
in the absence of some seasonal snow but
in order to hide their identities from
animal rights activists.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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