I only have my nails to scratch with and my feet to walk on.
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Three Lowly Nails
Three lowly nails,
Changed the world for you and me
Three lowly nails,
Were used to attach Jesus to a tree
Three lowly nails,
In each hand and through His feet
Three lowly nails,
Set His people free
Three lowly nails,
Gave us a King for eternity
poem by David Kush
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Distances....
this distance shall seal
the fate of those bridges
the empty space
are cut arms
the chasms between our
thoughts
are sliced feet
there are no more nails
to scratch what pleasures
are there
in this all broken
arrangement
the words fall from the trees
like poisoned leaves
as i walk away like a thief
you shall have the last
laugh
when you are dead and there
shall be peace
i shall come back
not to bury you with all
the requisites of
religious dignity
i am coming with my vultures
and they shall have a feast
on your rotten
belly.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Funny Feet
Feet are funny things I reckon
like why have we got toes?
we hide them away in our shoes
not on show like our ears or nose.
Some Feet are long and thin
others short stumpy and fat
with nails at the bottom
instead of claws like a Cat.
But if we didn't have Feet
we couldn't walk at all
so you couldn't ride a Bike
or run and kick a Football.
But they just look a bit odd
not really pretty or neat
then again they do a good job
so where would we be without Feet!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Itch and Scratch
You’re just like an itch
that keeps coming back.
Every time I itch
I have to scratch, scratch, scratch.
Just like a train
on a railroad track
You go away today
and tomorrow come back.
Try taking an aeroplane
instead of a car,
then hop on a rocket
to a distant star.
You’re just like an itch
that keeps coming back.
Every time I itch
I have to scratch, scratch, scratch.
And just like an itch
you’ve got under my skin,
this is a situation
that I just can’t win.
Please give me a break
and get off my back.
Get out of here
and don’t come back.
You’re just like an itch
that keeps coming back.
Every time I itch
I have to scratch, scratch, scratch.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Scratch My Back
(words & music by giant - baum - kaye)
One good turn deserves another
Be my love, Ill be your lover
Its all part of natures laws
If youll scratch my back then Ill scratch yours.
If youll scratch my back then Ill scratch your back
Like two peas in a pack, lets get rid of our itch together, hmm
Joy they say is in the giving
Come on give, make life worth living
Your welfare is my concern
Do a favour for me, Ill do one in return
If youll scratch my back then Ill scratch your back
Like two peas in a pack, lets get rid of our itch together, hmm
Scratch me now a little lower
What a feeling do it slower
Thats it, hmm youre getting hot
Well I gotta admit, you just hit the spot
If youll scratch my back then Ill scratch your back
Like two peas in a pack, lets get rid of our itch together, hmm
If youll scratch my back then Ill scratch your back
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Erica
Erica does not talk too much
her moon has no nails
there is no trace of a scratch
when she had it
ziplessly
quickly in the
train with someone
who has no
name
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hearts Made Of Feet!
and so we struggle,
turning in the womb,
choked by the cord.
conceived in darkness,
becoming light!
we are hearts made of feet,
feet that walk the path.
feet that slip and fall,
feet that take the wrong turn.
feet that keep on walking,
sore, tired, hurting.
feet of desire, and purpose,
feet of soulful intent!
all the great philosophies
come to this...
feet that only stop walking
to bandage other feet;
then walk together,
leaving one set of prints!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Mutual Itch One Lonely Night
this mutual each we have
one lonely night
when the moon sails in the
black sky
and the stars are too near
like lilies to the sailboat
on the placid lake,
i scratch my itch
you scratch yours
but what about our backs
those parts that i cannot reach
and you cannot reach
too
we follow the natural law
i'll scratch your back
and you scratch mine
no more no less
we are just
but friends,
tonight
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fear Of GODS Unknown
Why do we fear death? When it's the only guarantee in life!
Why do new fear death? When it takes you from your struggles and strife.
CHRIST went thru pains that we can never relate to
Knowing that he was going to be nailed to the cross!
What would you do!
Feeling those nails being driven thru your hands and feet
And knowing soon your father you would meet.
Just a little cut and we feel the pain in our heart
Imagine the nails tearing your flesh apart.
In this material world we feel many aches and pains
And many different emotions
But in GODS world there is only love and devotion.
So why do we fear to go where we have never thread before
When we don't know what's on the other shore.
Do we prefer to walk in darkness stumbling along the way
Or would we prefer to see the light that leads us to the day.
Death is just a door that you walk thru to get to the other side
Where you will see all of GODS beauties
On that you can rely.
So let ST. PETER take your hand and lead you thru that gate
Before the devil realizes - he got there much too late.
poem by Louis Rams
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Vig used to call me 'Elf boy', and I'd call him 'filthy human'. As an Elf, I never got a scratch on me, never got dirty. And Vig would come out with blood and sweat all over him. And he'd say to me, 'Oh, go manicure your nails.'
quote by Orlando Bloom
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Opening Up To You
Opening up to you,
The night before,
red finger nails!
Dark finger nails!
White finger nails!
Blue finger nails!
To utter it out;
The thoughts of man,
The thoughts of woman,
The thoughts of a child! !
But, holding the torch and to touch you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Navajo Night Way Ceremony
In beauty may I walk
All day long may I walk
Through the returning seasons may I walk
Beautifully I will possess again
Beautifully birds
Beautifully joyful birds
On the trail marked with pollen may I walk
With grasshoppers about my feet may I walk
With dew about my feet may I walk
With beauty may I walk
With beauty before me may I walk
With beauty behind me may I walk
With beauty above me may I walk
With beauty all around me may I walk
In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty,
lively, may I walk
In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty,
living again, may I walk
It is finished in beauty
It is finished in beauty
poem by Anonymous Americas
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I Will Rise Again
I walk through the wilderness,
with sandals on my feet,
a crown of thorns around my head,
one-person helps with the cross that I carry.
Crowds follow my progress,
women weep at my feet.
I go to meet my father,
somewhere out there.
The crosses stand tall,
victims scream out with pain.
I am laid on my back,
my arms pulled open wide.
The nails penetrate my palms.
I feel no pain,
my feet are then nailed,
and still there is no pain.
The cross is hoisted up,
for all to see.
I look down at those,
all gathered there.
A spear bites my side,
but I do not die.
Stillness enshrouds everyone,
as silence falls all around.
My fate is sealed,
but I will rise again.
Men will dine with me,
just one more time.
My name will be remembered,
for eons to come.
They will call me by many names,
because I am God’s son.
poem by David Harris
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Red Nails
She paints her nails red
slowly, methodically, with purpose.
I pretend to read my newspaper
watching her closely over the top of the pages.
Her features are refined;
no lines and big azure blue eyes.
Traffic rolls by outside and children play
relishing the sun in the middle of the day.
I pretend today is just an ordinary day
but in an hour or two I'll be on my way
and she, with painted nails
will walk the streets from whence she came.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Me Too
Me too
through the broken nails
can scratch unwritten walls
Me too
when everything fails
seek another shrine a place to escape
Me too
dawn caressed and kissed
break out in numerous coloures and shapes
Me too
can always list
the hues hidden 'neath an empty gape
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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November Narcissus
Four white fingers break ground
Lime green nails hunger scratch heaven
Each set bulbous...pots silver three
Narcissus blind to looking glass delight
Gold glory comes creeping night
poem by Boink Boink
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The Gnat Nebulae
Full pummelling fisticuffs
Stitch over stitch
In and out
Imperceptibly kaleidoscopic
Swirling from ear to ear
Sporadic
Thrumming mystical notes
Notes of whisper
Whisper in the ear
Now a bothered swish of clawing
Cleaving slipping fingers
Immalleable rolling universal ball
Microcosmic needle into
Macrocosmic wool all
Silently thudding kneading pulling
Sealing a sin all opened unforgiven
Eternally whispering to a few
And never really heard
Pummelling sewing the invisible centre
Round and round the darkless sun
Only the end that began
Only a scratch and a bother
What bother to scratch
For scratching bothers
Bothers a scratch
Scratch and not to bother
Scratch Scratch Scratch
Dedicated to J.C. Alldridge
(©: T. Wignesan - Paris,1957; from T. Wignesan. Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961; first pub. in 'Forum Academicum', University of Heidelberg,1957)
poem by T. Wignesan
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Red Ambulance
so that ambulance just went by
and if you were high
the flashing lights would be a show
red as the blood she spilled
red enough to let her go
she filled in the outlines with her nails
just as red as she
then there was a red circus, for sale
as she red as she would be
and the fire was just so
that the red blazes burned her eyes
i think it was the red that let her go
like the red from her eyes after a person cries
so red, so real, from wrist to lights
so red, everytime, even in the night
shes like the savior
or the sacrafice
her nails, or the nails of the cross?
was it it the cross on the red ambulance
with the red lights?
or was it the cross of the savior, the sacrifice
was it all red every night?
is this a remake or the living
from the wrists
on the nails
where the lights
on the ambulance
with the cross
of the savior
with the nails
on the wrists
in the ambulance
with the cross
of the savior
red from the nails
on the wrists
that lay in the ambulance
the flashing red lights
near the cross
of the savior?
the sacrifice?
in the wrists
red with nails
on the cross
of savior or the saved?
ambulance
or cross
the wrists
the nails
the lights
the ambulance
the cross
the savior
with all the red
poem by Kathryn Garner
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Grumpy Grandpa
Grand-daughter of the Painted Nails,
As if they had been dipped in gore,
I'd like to set you lugging pails
And make you scrub the kitchen floor.
I'm old and crotchety of course,
And on this point my patience fails;
I'd sue my old girl for divorce
If she showed up with painted nails.
Grand-daughter of the Painted Nails,
Like to a Jezebel are you;
Do you expect to snare the males
With talons of such bloody hue?
I could forgive your smudging lips,
Your scarlet cheek that powder veils,
But not your sanguine finger-tips . . .
Don't paw me with your painted nails.
Grand-daughter of the Painted Nails,
Were I the sire of maidens ten,
I'd curse them over hills and dales,
And hold them to the scorn of men
If they had claws of crimson dye;
Aye, though they sang like nightingales,
Unto the welkin I would cry:
"Avaunt, ye hags with Painted Nails!"
poem by Robert William Service
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I Scratch Therefore I Am
i scratch therefore
i am
a cat.....
(a tomcat
or a tiger on the loose of a safari in your mind)
you itch therefore
you are
a dog....(or a bitch
or a fungus in the
anus)
you itch and i scratch
therefore
we exist,
therefore
we are.
animates, needing something to thrive upon,
we evolve and get complicated, we revolve around something
and get a little
sophisticated,
we scratch some more, we itch some more,
no longer cats, or tigers, or dogs or bitches, we go beyond
these animated needs,
we somehow say
we need love this time...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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