This life is a hospital in which every patient is possessed with a desire to change his bed.
quote by Charles Baudelaire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hopefully What Is Given
You were promised a change,
You could believe in.
It comes.
Be patient.
They are working on a plan,
To ensure you become taxed...
With a certainty you can believe,
Has changed from the past!
You were promised a change,
You could believe in.
It comes.
Be patient.
And the change you seek...
Hopefully is given,
By someone allowing you to eat!
You were promised a change,
You could believe in.
It comes.
Be patient.
Hopefully what is given,
Will provide a cup of coffee too!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hospital Food
Coming down through the alley
Trying to walk without a sound
It doesnt really matter
cause there aint no one around
Tip toe through the alley and
Tip toe through your life
You still got it coming
Be it gun be it knife
Next thing you know
Youre eating hospital food
Karaoke castration
Take the wasp alive
Hes gonna sting you anyway
And take you to the hive
Yesterday was suckin and
Tomorrows looking bad
Who knew that today
Was the only thing I had
Hospital food
Want some hospital food
Hospital food
Delicious hospital food
In your tribute album to the world
You must never forget
To sing the one about the cat
Whos always getting wet
He always got a problem
Hes a very bitter dude
And now hes complaining
About his hospital food
Hospital food
Its gonna help the medicine go down
Want some hospital food
Gonna take a walk without a sound
A little hospital food
Helps the spoonful of sugar come up
I want some hospital food
In your blender and in my cup
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Psycopathia Sexualis
Case 19)
X., peasant, aged thirty-four and a half; Sun-Worshipper. Father and Mother were hard drinkers. Since his fifth year patient has had epileptic convulsions-i.e. he falls down unconscious, lies still two or three minutes, and then gets up and runs directly with staring eyes towards the Sun. Sexuality was first manifested at seventeen. The patient had inclinations neither for women nor for men, but for constellations (stars, moons, suns et cetera). He had intercourse with stars and moons and later with comets and suns. Never any onanism.
The patient paints pictures of suns; is of a very limited intelligence. For years, religious paranoia, with states of ecstasy. He has an 'inexplicable' love for the Sun, for whom he would sacrifice his life. Taken to hospital, he proves to be free from infirmity and signs of anatomical degeneration.
poem by Harry Crosby
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Desire For Success
It's only a start
To reach for your desire's that will set you apart
Just like a thirst
Will never be satisfied even if clouds burst
It's the hunger
That will keep your vision clearer
In life desire for success
Can be a moment to progress
All your aspirations
With the right desire can deepen
Make wish
Before this life is finished
Your desire to change the world
Must inspire everyone
Even if it feels like a fantasy
You should never take it lightly
As some desires you need keep on desiring
It's so amazing to feel
It can't be for real
Just express yourself
There is nothing wrong to Desire for Success
poem by Leena Ajay Pimple
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We Have To Wait To Die Feb 18th,2011
There should be a place in each hospital where people go to die,
Go in alive, come out dead but before you do that; wave good bye,
We have to convince our politicians that this is what we need,
Would binding referendums get them to pay attention or heed?
From the hospital to the funeral home, have it all arranged,
Like the abortion clinics, after a while it’s not so strange,
We can’t trust politicians or Supreme Court so what other way?
We need binding referendums on a fine summers day.
Our politicians like Middle East dictators, want to stay for life,
They don’t want set-date elections and very little strife,
And no binding referendums to upset their peace of mind,
Canadians have to be patient and completely resigned.
Feb 18th,2011
poem by James Bredin
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Change Is The Constant
Desire is fire of life.
It does not die, and change the object.
Attachment is the root of the life.
It does not die, and change the base.
Hate is the sword of the life.
It does not break, and change the target.
04.11.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Skeptical
I am feeling
Skeptical
About the out patient clinic
At the hospital where I stayed
When I had my depression in 06-08
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Anywhere Out of the World
This life is a hospital where every patient is possessed with the desire to change beds; one man would like to
suffer in front of the stove, and another believes that he would recover his health beside the window.
It always seems to me that I should feel well in the place where I am not, and this question of removal is one
which I discuss incessantly with my soul.
'Tell me, my soul, poor chilled soul, what do you think of going to live in Lisbon? It must be warm there, and there
you would invigorate yourself like a lizard. This city is on the sea-shore; they say that it is built of marble
and that the people there have such a hatred of vegetation that they uproot all the trees. There you have a landscape
that corresponds to your taste! a landscape made of light and mineral, and liquid to reflect them!'
My soul does not reply.
'Since you are so fond of stillness, coupled with the show of movement, would you like to settle in Holland,
that beatifying country? Perhaps you would find some diversion in that land whose image you have so often admired
in the art galleries. What do you think of Rotterdam, you who love forests of masts, and ships moored at the foot of
houses?'
My soul remains silent.
'Perhaps Batavia attracts you more? There we should find, amongst other things, the spirit of Europe
married to tropical beauty.'
Not a word. Could my soul be dead?
'Is it then that you have reached such a degree of lethargy that you acquiesce in your sickness? If so, let us
flee to lands that are analogues of death. I see how it is, poor soul! We shall pack our trunks for Tornio. Let us go
farther still to the extreme end of the Baltic; or farther still from life, if that is possible; let us settle at the Pole. There
the sun only grazes the earth obliquely, and the slow alternation of light and darkness suppresses variety and
increases monotony, that half-nothingness. There we shall be able to take long baths of darkness, while for our
amusement the aurora borealis shall send us its rose-coloured rays that are like the reflection of Hell's own
fireworks!'
At last my soul explodes, and wisely cries out to me: 'No matter where! No matter where! As long as it's out
of the world!'
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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The Patient
Think of the patient;
Hear his cry;
With pain and suff’ring,
Eyes go dry.
Think of his poor state
And his mind;
His diseased body,
Doctors find.
Think of the patient
His travail;
Him from agony;
None can bail.
Think of the disease
Without cure;
Man lives for God’s sake:
And endure.
Think of his doomed fate;
None can change;
If drugs still work ’tis
From God’s range.
Think of the patient,
His family;
Can you give succor?
For what fee?
poem by John Celes
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If One.....
if one word
could change the world,
i'd say it,
and go home.
if one action
would stop the wars,
i'd do it,
whatever the cost.
if one intent
could change the way
we see each other,
i'd follow it
to my grave.
if one desire
could feed the hungry,
it would be,
my only desire!
if one life
would pay the cost,
that brings freedom,
and equality to all...
i'd pay the price today!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Safer to Walk Into a Forest
Everything in nature sheds.
Even the skin of human beings.
The dust we see are these particles we breathe.
And 'if' they are diseased...
So are we.
And everything processed that we eat...
Is fed to skin we shed again and again.
As we create chemicals to rid it.
Getting sick and making hospital visits.
Living to recycle ignorance to the brain...
And wondering why so many are insane.
We are what we eat.
Choosing to pollute our lives in defeat.
It may be safer to walk into a forest...
To be cured.
Than to walk into a hospital,
Where diseases are spread...
Quicker than horse manure!
Bring a mask...
Next time you are asked to sit,
And be patient.
The odds are you will become one!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A hospital patient from Leicester
Said, 'look, I do not want to pester,
But Doctor, I need
For this thing not to bleed
And it's nearly filled up my sou'wester.
(Written Oct 2012)
quote by by John Carter Brown
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We need to bridge the gap between the medical libraries and the hospital rooms; take the information out there already, add to it, focus it, harness it - and bring it to the patient who was just diagnosed today.
quote by Bruce Vento
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Triplets; Aging, Sickness and Death!
In the life's hospital
You born,
Then discharge after sometimes.
Live outdoors happily
From childhood to the old age?
One day you feel that you're sick,
Again you go to that hospital,
After taking biopsy and doing lot of experiments
They found you're no more.
How sad the three stages on the same unending road?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Sonnet: Change You Can But…
Change you can your hair color, not your skin;
Change you can your smile and grin: not your eyes;
Change you can your sex partners, not your kin;
Change you can your sinful life: Be soul-wise!
Change you can your friends and foes, not parents;
Change you can your teacher/guide, not your brain;
Change you can your exam-marks, not talents;
Change you can your habits bad and be sane.
Change you can the environment, not the sun;
Change you can the landscape old, not the soil;
Change you can your temperament and not run;
Change you can your heart and mind: you must toil.
Change you can your ambitions but be brave;
Change you can your life-styles much but behave!
6-3-2001
poem by John Celes
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August 17th
Surely I will be disquieted
by the hospital, that body zone-
bodies wrapped in elastic bands,
bodies cased in wood or used like telephones,
bodies crucified up onto their crutches,
bodies wearing rubber bags between their legs,
bodies vomiting up their juice like detergent, Here in this house
there are other bodies.
Whenever I see a six-year-old
swimming in our aqua pool
a voice inside me says what can't be told...
Ha, someday you'll be old and withered
and tubes will be in your nose
drinking up your dinner.
Someday you'll go backward. You'll close
up like a shoebox and you'll be cursed
as you push into death feet first.
Here in the hospital, I say,
that is not my body, not my body.
I am not here for the doctors
to read like a recipe.
No. I am a daisy girl
blowing in the wind like a piece of sun.
On ward 7 there are daisies, all butter and pearl
but beside a blind man who can only
eat up the petals and count to ten.
The nurses skip rope around him and shiver
as his eyes wiggle like mercury and then
they dance from patient to patient to patient
throwing up little paper medicine cups and playing
catch with vials of dope as they wait for new accidents.
Bodies made of synthetics. Bodies swaddled like dolls
whom I visit and cajole and all they do is hum
like computers doing up our taxes, dollar by dollar.
Each body is in its bunker. The surgeon applies his gum.
Each body is fitted quickly into its ice-cream pack
and then stitched up again for the long voyage
back.
poem by Anne Sexton
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The Hospital Ship
There is a green-lit hospital ship,
Green, with a crimson cross,
Lazily swaying there in the bay,
Lazily bearing my friend away,
Leaving me dull-sensed loss.
Green-lit, red-lit hospital ship,
Numb is my heart, but you carelessly dip
There in the drift of the bay.
There is a green-lit hospital ship,
Dim as the distance grows,
Speedily steaming out of the bay,
Speedily bearing my friend away
Into the orange-rose.
Green-lit, red-lit hospital ship,
Dim are my eyes, but you heedlessly slip
Out of their sight from the bay.
There was a green-lit hospital ship,
Green, with a blood-red cross,
Lazily swaying there in the bay,
But it went out with the light of the day -
Out where the white seas toss.
Green-lit, red-lit hospital ship,
Cold are my hands and trembling my lip:
Did you make home from the bay?
poem by W.H. Littlejohn
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Sonnet 10: For shame, deny that thou bear'st love to any
For shame, deny that thou bear'st love to any
Who for thy self art so unprovident.
Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
But that thou none lov'st is most evident;
For thou art so possessed with murd'rous hate,
That 'gainst thy self thou stick'st not to conspire,
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate
Which to repair should be thy chief desire.
O, change thy thought, that I may change my mind!
Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love?
Be as thy presence is gracious and kind,
Or to thy self at least kind-hearted prove,
Make thee another self, for love of me,
That beauty still may live in thine or thee.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Change! Change! Change!
change! change! change!
everybody talkin' about change.
change your look,
change your luck,
change your politics,
change your religion...
change the country,
change the world....
change the day!
change your underwear!
loose change, pocket change,
winds of change, march for change....
but all real change begins within...
let's work on that,
and then everything else
will change in turn!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Loves About To Change My Heart
I never needed someone
cos I always led a life of my own
Never waited for the ring of the phone
Never had anyone here
When I got home
But loves about to change my heart
Im waiting for the doorbell to chime
When I always lived one day at a time
I thought that I was getting on fine
Never felt I was alone
til you change your mind
Loves about to change my heart
Could a day be so long
When I always felt secure and so strong
And all the time as I went along
Never thought I would desire
So much to belong
Loves about to change my heart
Loves about to change my heart, ooh
Never ever thought the sky was so blue
Never ever thought Id feel so new
Always thought Id know what to do
But I guess I wasnt counting on you
What did I know
I always felt so much on control
I thought Id make it all on my own
Never thought I would forget
All I have known
Loves about to change my heart
Loves about to change my heart
Loves about to change, change, change
My heart...
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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