Mosquito-bite free Goodnight - from a mosquito
I am a mosquito thriving in a tropical country
We, mosquitoes, feel highly disturbed
By the crusade against us
Attempts are always on to eradicate us
The reason quoted is that
We propagate diseases
You say we spread malaria, encephalitis
And so many others including the disabling polio
You learned people know that
We have not created any of them
But it so happens when we suck blood from any of you
The disease causing pathogen comes along with the blood
And it is passed on to another person, if we go for his or her blood
You will admit we are not really the culprit
But the person who has already hosted the disease causing agent
Blame him or her, not us
You have not protected your own people from an infection
But conveniently pass the blame on innocent and silent blood suckers
A lot of research is going on in
Arriving at the most effective repellent against us
And in most of the tropical countries
Night through your own people are inhaling
The repellent laden air
We wonder in this process your own folks will end up
With new health disorders with the ingestion of
These newly discovered repellent chemicals
And you will not hesitate to blame us
For this mishap created by your own researchers
Keep it only with you that
We are also developing resistance to most of these repellents
And soon none of them will work against us
Leaving you all to sleep in fools’ paradise
Instead of chasing us
Chase out the disease-causing agent
And if still not possible
Protect yourself against being stung by us
With rightly designed physical barriers
Never go for chemical means to drive us out
Not only you will fail, you may end up with new disorders
Mosquito=bite free good night
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Related quotes
Kill the virus, not us
Kill the virus, not us
Recently this fever is frequently reported
Some even die
People infected by this virus
Range from slum dwellers to farm owners
Even doctors are not spared
Why a very successful film producer
And director too succumbed to this
The blame come on to us, the carriers
We, the Aedes mosquitoes
Thrive on juicy leave saps
And our female members have to have a
Human blood meal
If not for anything else,
For the continuation of our generation
The blood meal is taken early in the morning
Or in the evening with sunlight still being there
We have no clue as to
Whether the person on whom we feed
Suffers an infection of dengue or not
You may not know that
We too get infected by the virus
But we manage well without suffering any symptoms
By the time when all our body fluids
Are enriched with virus it will be
A week or ten days passed
After the blood meal from the infected person
This is when we become real carriers
We have the potential to infect a healthy person
With dengue virus if we happen to bite that person
We are just carriers, not knowing what we carry
Blaming us only is unfair
You hurriedly take measures to eliminate our species
It is not at all possible
We brave all your biological weapons
And you may not be aware that some of us
Have already developed resistance to
Most of your branded repellants and pesticides
We have some of these suggestions
For your staying uninfected by this virus
We admit, we only spread the infection
Remove and clear all such spots
Where we may establish a habitat
We suggest that you use a good mosquito net
And keep us away from you
We repeat, your repellants and pesticides
Are no longer effective against us
Or your genetic stalwarts can engineer
A mutation in us
So that our system itself produces an antigen
Against this virus
And the virus is made non-infective further
Or immunize your people against the virus
Do something with your great scientific effort
To relieve us of this burden around a viral infection
Your mission must be to ensure
That we, the Aedes mosquitoes and you
Have a harmonious co-existence
Kill the cause, not the carriers
Kill the virus, not us
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Health Organization, Malaria and the Mosquito
This bloodsucking insect sings in the night its usual melody.
“My dear Health Organization and it’s mandatory I live on human blood
Though I give the disease causing recurring fever what do you called Malaria which I am not aware.
I have the right to live. Isn’t it?
The whole World is sick with so many diseases and you make pesticides to destroy our brotherhood then what about the mankind who makes deadly devices to eradicate the Nature? ”
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Transformation In Life Cycles
change undergone
by an animal cell
upon infection
by a cancer-causing
tissue devouring
virile hostile virus
alteration
transformation
of a bacterial cell
caused by transfer
of DNA stimuli
from contact
bacterial cell
especially
a pathogen
a pathogen
infectious agent
populous label
commonly germ
a biological agent
007 licensed
to kill bond
assassination
execution style
causes disease
to outplayed
sentenced host
there are
several
substrates
pathways
whereby
pathogens
can invade
a target
marked host
memorize
‘modi operandi’
their M.O.
consulting doctor
principal pathways
have different
episodic time
code frames soil
contamination
has profile
longest most
persistent
potential for
harboring
a pathogen
examine
method
of operating
functioning
record file
precisely
method
coded
information
reveal habits
traits
practices
of enemy
agent
suspects
to aid in
eventual
apprehension
of these
key suspects
biological agent
biological cell
terminated in
homeland defense
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Too Bad
The troubles you've caused now on you sit.
Too bad.
Too bad.
And everyone of them you committed.
Too bad.
Too bad.
With a causing them you can't admit.
Too bad.
Too bad.
Your eyes now weep.
Too bad.
You can not sleep.
Too bad.
You want to blame somebody else
but on you people peep!
Too bad.
Too bad.
On you...
All your sadness begins!
Too bad.
Too bad.
Your eyes now weep.
Too bad.
You can not sleep.
Too bad.
You want to blame somebody else
but on you people peep!
Too bad.
Too bad.
The troubles you've caused
now on you sit.
Too bad.
Too bad.
And everyone of them
you committed.
Too bad.
Too bad.
With a causing them
you can't admit.
Too bad.
Too bad.
On you...
All your sadness begins!
Too bad.
Too bad.
Your eyes now weep.
Too bad.
You can not sleep.
Too bad.
You want to blame
somebody else
but on you people peep!
Too bad.
Too bad.
You want to blame somebody else
but on you people peep!
Too bad.
Too bad.
You want to blame somebody else
but on you people peep!
Too bad.
Too bad.
Too bad.
Too bad.
On you...
All your sadness begins!
Too bad.
Too bad.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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People of all colors living here
Or visiting in this country
Are cowardly in not admitting over and over
Their part of causing illness,
Disease to all skinned tone people,
They do this by using sweetened words,
Alcohol, drugs, group attendances,
Unknown usage of drugs that weaken the thought process.
This puts them into bedroom rape taking away their lights to happiness.
This causes all around them to do more cowardly crimes,
Which causes all the people harm.
Many of the people are left not able to defend themselves or be believed
There are people in disease and illness that aren't even aware of it
From this rape of their thoughts!
poem by Kathleen A. Boyd
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Disease Of Conceit
Theres a whole lot of people suffering tonight from the disease of conceit
Theres a whole lot of people struggling tonight with the disease of conceit
Comes right down the highway, straight down the line
Rips into your senses, through your body and your mind
Nothing about it thats sweet
The disease of conceit
Theres a whole lot of hearts breaking tonight from the disease of conceit
Theres a whole lot of hearts shaking tonight from the disease of conceit
Steps into your room, eats into your soul
Over your senses you have no control
Aint nothing too discreet
About the disease of conceit
Theres a whole lot of people dying tonight from the disease of conceit
Theres a whole lot of people crying tonight from the disease of conceit
Comes right outta nowhere and youre down for the count
From the outside world the pressure will mount
Turn you into a piece of meat
The disease of conceit
Conceit is a disease but the doctors got no cure
They done a lot of research on it but what it is theyre still not sure
Theres a whole lot of people in trouble tonight from the disease of conceit
Theres a whole lot of people seein double tonight from the disease of conceit
If your delusions of grandeur and an evil eye
Give you the idea that youre too good to die
Then they bury you from your head to your feet
From the disease of conceit
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Disease
I feel as if I have been abandoned
Even though there are people all around me.
I can only feel the depression sinking in deeper and deeper
it's a disease, spreading through my veins,
becoming worse and worse with every breath I take.
The true face of my depression surronded
in the same black shroud that I am surronded in.
The disease spreads farther and farther
Cutting me deeper and deeper.
Those around me laugh at my pain,
They laugh at my blood.
My depression has sunk to new divisions,
The disease has finally spread throughout my blood stream.
To end my depression forever,
To finally rid myself of the disease.
But I cut it short.
poem by Heart of Ice Die Die Die
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Tropical Trees
A tropical disease may result,
The visit defines a point in our lives,
The country is poetic, like a river
Or like a garden or enclosure.
The palm trees shed their look
On our eyes like awed beings,
In strong containment of piety.
It is a bent door like a building of heaven.
The disease spreads fast from the bloom
Of the trees as if tropical diseases are real.
We need no trophy, no graceless entry
Into the heaven so bland,
When health at home is not of the tropics.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Hippo and The Mosquito
The huge happy hippo asked his mosquito friend,
“Why must you sting when it does nothing but offend?
Your bites really hurt and then they itch for days.
Think of something new and try to change your ways.
The sweet honey bee has a stinger much like you,
But instead of causing pain, helps flowers paint a view.
Can’t you turn that stinger into a thing for good?
Please stop all the suffering and do as you should!
The munching mosquito landed on the hippo and said,
If I don’t sting every day, no doubt I’ll soon be dead.
Blood is my diet so I must sting each and every day.
I know you eat just plants, but I can’t be that way.
Hurting others is the only way that I can live.
I depend on others and the suffering that I give.
Huge hippo understood what the munching mosquito said.
Then thought to himself, “Maybe he’d be better dead! ”
Just then hip hippo had an idea for this bug.
He said, “Maybe all your poison could be made into a drug.
Snakes have used their venom to make medicines for good.
You can help all those suffering as you know you should.
If you can be like the snakes, you’ll bring happiness and bliss.
Then each hurtful, itchy bite will be like a friendly kiss.
As for your diet, if you smile and bring cheer,
Maybe, instead of blood, you’ll start to like root beer! ”
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Keep your worth
Don’t tell lies to cheat.
Don’t tell lies to mislead.
Don’t tell ties to escape.
Else, you’ll become a repellant.
Don’t be selfish.
Don’t be greedy.
Don’t be jealous.
Else, you’ll become a repellent.
Don’t steal indoor or
Don’t steal outdoor
Even the undetectable.
Else, you’ll become a repellent..
No folks will then throng you
08.05.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Liar (Reptile Demo)
she spread herself wide open to let the insects in
she leaves a trail of honey to show me where she's been
she has the blood of reptile just underneath her skin
seeds from a thousand others drip down from within
oh my beautiful liar
oh my precious whore
my disease my infection
i am so impure
give it
devils speak of the way in which she'll manifest
angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress
need to contaminate to alleviate this loneliness
i now know the depths i reach are limitless
oh my beautiful liar
oh my precious whore
my disease my infection
i am so impure
oh
oh
oh my beautiful liar
oh my precious whore
my disease my infection
i am so impure
oh my beautiful liar
oh my precious whore
my disease my infection
i am so impure
song performed by by Nine Inch Nails
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Blood Of Jesus
Every minute, every hour,
The blood of Jesus is the power,
It's the power over sickness and disease,
It's the power that sets you free.
The blood of Jesus will turn your life around,
In your daily life peace will abound,
It will set you free from anxiety,
Through Jesus' blood you will have a victory.
Plead the blood of Jesus without delay,
Pour the blood over bad circumstances today,
Try the blood of Jesus and you will see,
The blood of Jesus means victory.
poem by Elizabeth Skerencak
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Maze Of Power
Where were you when powers were to blame?
Return to the cities of treasure when it is time.
Going into cities of gold, the gates were bombarded
And the gates were opened to the people of cowardice.
You are not too treasured as a time is,
You are selfless when others are selfish,
Your pen runs thin after a line of ink.
May blame be given not forsaken,
The men who are plain with transgression
Are to be in a fountain of blood.
The blood of places is the blood of reward,
We see like others in this maze of buildings.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Wolves
(Wolf Howls)
I'm not a hunter but i am told,
that, uh, in places like in the arctic,
where indiginous people sometimes might, might, hunt a wolf,
they'll take a double edged blade,
and they'll put blood on the blade,
and they'll melt the ice and stick the handle in the ice,
so that only the blade is protruding,
and that a wolf will smell the blood and wants to eat,
and it will come and lick the blade trying to eat,
and what happens is when the wolf licks the blade,
of course, he cuts his tongue, and he bleeds,
and he thinks he's really having a good thing,
and he drinks and he licks and he licks,
and of course he is drinking his own blood and he kills himself,
thats what the Imperialists did with us with crack cocaine,
you have these young brothers out there who think they are getting something
they gonna make a living with,
they is getting something they can buy a car,
like the white people have cars, why can't i have a car?
they getting something they can get a piece of gold,
white people have gold, why can't i have gold?
they getting something to get a house,
white people have a house, why can't i have a house?
and they actually think that theres something thats bringing resources to them,
but they're killing themsleves just like the wolf was licking the blade,
and they're slowly dying without knowing it.
thats whats happening to the community, you with me on that?
thats exactly, precisely what happens to the community,
and instead of blaming the hunter who put the damn handle and blade in the ice
for the wolf,
that what happens is the wolf gets the blame, gets the blame for trying to live,
thats what happens in our community,
you don't blame the person, the victim,
you blame the oppressor, Imperialism, white power is the enemy,
was the enemy when it first came to Africa,
and snatched up the first African brothers here against our will,
isss the enemy today,
and thats the thing that we have to understand.
(Clapping)
song performed by by Dead Prez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Possession
The media portrays flawless perfection,
Perfection, impossible to obtain causing an outcry of objections.
"Flawed" faces, the panic of rejection,
The media dispersing its festering message, left to spread like an untreated malignance infection.
It grows and grows until it controls the way we see our complexion,
The disease garbling of the mind, causing kit-picking and dissection.
At a fresh age we are septic to ingestion,
Ingesting the toxic lie that youth can be maintained by injections,
The noxious lie creating the basis for our future obsessions,
Until that fresh mind is so shot up with bullet wounds, the mind becomes a self-inflecting weapon,
A perilous repetitive phase begins as the foul transformation transpires, a possession!
poem by Francesca Marie
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Blood-Thirst
Not many people enter the contentment,
A reader of stories creates a dismal fact
Because he or she desires the bringing of facts.
In the broad bold night of the days we extend
Is a party of vampires and their victims;
Empower them to express their blood-thirst
So their realities are recognised and met
By the blood of our fathers,
The blood of our victims.
Find and seek the whole book created by us,
We freely ingest the liquid of love and hate,
The blood of blue and red,
Our blue blood is red, our blood is bled
Like a bloody liquid of the night.
poem by Naveed Akram
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If There Is a God
if there is a God,
then He/She has
to be pissed!
bearing all the blame
for decades/centuries
of wars, countless
genocides...
famines, earthquakes,
starvation, and disease...
all the atrocious acts
committed by mankind
in the name of God!
and now we live in a nuclear
world, with the threat of
total annihilation...
God?
there are no chosen people!
all people are just people.
all of life is sacred...
what we blame on God
is either the manifestations
of our self oriented egos...
or the results of our actions...
if there is a God,
and i believe there is...
you'll find Him/Her expressed
in the forms of all the living...
in the song of life hidden
in the person you like least...
in the hunger for compassion...
in your own heart!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Weave My Cocoon, Only For Own Metamorphosis!
Strangely life looks like a web,
Knitted by Sunlight,
Light of distant stars,
And light Reflected by moon and planets..
I could have survived and cut the web,
but the web is strengthened by more layers,
May be light absorbed and reflected by me,
And bouncing back from my Kiths and kins,
Mosquitoes and bugs,
My own blood relatives,
Sharing my blood or may be I am sharing thiers!
Life is like ground under fruit bearing tree,
Full of smashed fruits by its own fall,
Half eaten, half ripe, may be fully ripen and may be rotten!
Delicious and sweet fruits it bear,
Sometimes by cosmic friends, parrots and bats,
May be monkeys and niebours,
Test me and tease me,
My ability to access the fruits,
They have better nose and eyes than me,
They observe changes faster than me,
They peck or take a bite,
before I can wake up and see,
Birds are better than bats and monkeys,
Birds just eat enough and fly,
Monkeys and bats are horrible,
They taste one, pluck many,
Take to their friends and relatives,
And throw on their path
as a route map to others,
Rotten fruits smell bad,
Flies and mosquitoes,
Flies spread disease, are better,
Mosquitoes spread disease
and feast on my blood too,
Just like juice after meal!
All these knit web around!
All I have that is my own nest,
My own shining shine,
Where I weep, laugh and workout my own plans,
Which becomes my shield,
And what look like shield is my own cocoon,
Where I sleep or meditate,
Only come out completely metamorphing myself,
cutting cocoon With flying colours!
I feelfree now with coloured wings,
Antennae and suckers,
I fly over flowers,
But gather nectar and I help flowers to live fruitful!
But I am innocent
I sing and dance in air,
With my coloured wings
I am a flying flower
Found in garden or in wild!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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The Retired Commander In Chief
For one who profess a strong belief in God
To say the least I found it rather odd
That he sent his Country's troops to fight in his uncalled for war
From their home shore to a Nation afar.
A war where hundreds of thousands of people have died
Their right to life by him has been denied
Yet for his crimes against Humanity he will never pay
An honourable life in retirement is his lot today.
For most of his war dead terrorists he does blame
Terrorists his war created for to commit acts of shame
He should have known that's what happens when other Countries you invade
For conflict the price in human blood is paid.
A hero to many but a major criminal to me
He gave rise to crimes against Humanity
As well as causing thousands of deaths he destroyed the archictecture of another Land
Many in positions of power history does not understand.
The mothers of his war dead grieving today
Leave him to Karma is all one can say
His life achievements hundreds of thousands of war dead
Perhaps the power at his disposal did go to his head.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Triolet: Sacrifice
Mosquito you must die for me,
with one last hypodermic bite.
You have my blood and guarantee,
mosquito you must die for me.
I line you up and count to three,
goodNIGHT! to you, to me goodnight.
Mosquito you must die for me,
With one last hypodermic bite.
poem by Diane Hine
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