Nucleus
How can you take away the nucleus
and expect everything outside of it
to stay mended together with strength?
A family is held together by a bandage.
You take away the bandage and you got a wound.
Sometimes a wound can heal on its own
and sometimes it can get infected or never heal.
I've seen it all before, the bandages go away
and then the wound that is left attacks itself.
The skin, the blood, the puss, and all the cells
that were once held together by one bandage
turn on itself and then it all melts as if touched by acid.
I don't think that will happen to our wound.
I think we'll all band together and form a new bandage.
It might not be one person holding it all together,
but it will be all of us coming together
like hospital staff to make sure we don't die of an infection.
poem by Cokbod Lodwogo
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Related quotes
Dont Dig In My Potatoes
Survive in a city of steel
With all the fears all the fears that I feel
My life is wound I cant heel
With a bandage with a bandage of steel
But i, Ive got my own way to go
It doesnt matter in which direction the wind will blow
So you, you better keep yourself out
Cause you dont know what its all about
Dont you dig in my...
Dont dig in my potatoes...
song performed by by Fury In The Slaughterhouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Word Association
To lose - Le Trec
Le Trec - short
Short - cake
Cake - eat
Eat - famine
Famine - world
World - war
War - wound
Wound - bandage
Bandage - wind
Wind - up
Up -end
End - game
Game - terminate
poem by Frank E Gibbard
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In a neighborhood, as in life, a clean bandage is much, much better than a raw or festering wound.
quote by Edward Koch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flesh Wound
We flew over miles of ocean--be prepared.
I don't have the faintest notion who'll be there.
You underestimated; nobody sympathized.
I think you'll soon feel better once we get inside.
I see the door is open -- Why don't we walk right in?
Let's put our party hats on and let the fun begin!
We should have called and said that we were on our way;
Who would have ever guessed that you'd be so unreachable?
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in my side
Just another flesh wound--another wonder-cure that you tried
Just another flesh wound--another scratch on your hide
Just another flesh wound--another irritation you abide
You know the rumour's going that he was synthesized.
And if we had to dress, I wouldn't be surprised.
I say -- you're so outrageous -- you'll go to number one!
They'll have us both arrested for having too much fun.
Just another flesh wound--another scratch on your hide.
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in your side.
Just another flesh wound--another bruise on your pride.
Just another flesh wound--another paranoia that you hide.
And when she held her nose, she took an underdose.
It was nice to see her completely comatose.
You go first, you're completely debonair;
Let's go dutch -- it's only fair.
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in your side.
Just another flesh wound--a minor injury you dignified.
Just another flesh wound--another unsuccessful suicide.
Just another flesh wound--another curse that you ride.
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wounds
Can we bandage and bathe my comrade?
His wounds are advertised, all over his body.
The bones are blasted, beaten and he is bankrupt,
So horrifying is his condition, that I feel for him.
The climate of this planet has changed
And he has changed like a corpse.
Can we dress his combat injuries of blood?
He fought for ten people, and ten commandments
Were followed, with the idea of striking rich.
My comrade is skilled in terror,
And I am adept at the wound.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Blindman's Buff
OH, my Theresa dear!
Thine eyes, I greatly fear,
Can through the bandage see!
Although thine eyes are bound,
By thee I'm quickly found,
And wherefore shouldst thou catch but me?
Ere long thou held'st me fast,
With arms around me cast,
Upon thy breast I fell;
Scarce was thy bandage gone,
When all my joy was flown,
Thou coldly didst the blind repel.
He groped on ev'ry side,
His limbs he sorely tried,
While scoffs arose all round;
If thou no love wilt give,
In sadness I shall live,
As if mine eyes remain'd still bound.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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A Wound On His Forehead
he scratched it accidentally
perhaps when he was asleep
as he was wont
to raise his arms on his forehead,
and with uncut nails
he caused a wound therein
infected by his carelessness
his hand touching
barely almost anything dirty
he looks at himself on the mirror
studying
the gaping wound like an
eye staring back at him
asking
why should a man raise his hands
even when asleep?
and why should he wound himself
unnecessarily?
why does he not care about
the possibility of the complexity of an infection
that may even
cause his death?
is this the kind of surrender
he had dreamed of inside his dream?
his way of finally giving up life
since it left him with nothing to offer?
he looks at himself closely
now, he becomes a strange man staring at
another man he thought
he knew too well.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Bandaged Shoulder
He said that he had hurt himself on a wall or that he had fallen.
But there was probably another reason
for the wounded and bandaged shoulder.
With a somewhat abrupt movement,
to bring down from a shelf some
photographs that he wanted to see closely,
the bandage was untied and a little blood ran.
I bandaged the shoulder again, and while bandaging it
I was somewhat slow; because it did not hurt,
and I liked to look at the blood. That
blood was a part of my love.
When he had left, I found in front of the chair,
a bloody rag, from the bandages,
a rag that looked in belonged in garbage;
which I brought up to my lips,
and which I held there for a long time --
the blood of love on my lips.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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“Faithful Trust”
There’s nothing to offer to those ignoble vows
But a long wail of dejection if this heart allows
Trust has come to open the wound
Averment carries no word for word
The misguided mind has become the guard
Trust has come to open the wound
A solemn promise’s been made to none
With faithlessness it is believed to have gone
Trust has come to open the wound
The wound that's trapped into bleeding emotion
To heal the pain it drinks the potion
Then trust has gone with its faithful notion
And everything fades with that true devotion.
(23rd of October,2010)
poem by Munia Khan
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Carl Hamblin
The press of the Spoon River Clarion was wrecked,
And I was tarred and feathered,
For publishing this on the day the Anarchists were hanged in Chicago:
"I saw a beautiful woman with bandaged eyes
Standing on the steps of a marble temple.
Great multitudes passed in front of her,
Lifting their faces to her imploringly.
In her left hand she held a sword.
She was brandishing the sword,
Sometimes striking a child, again a laborer,
Again a slinking woman, again a lunatic.
In her right hand she held a scale;
Into the scale pieces of gold were tossed
By those who dodged the strokes of the sword.
A man in a black gown read from a manuscript:
'She is no respecter of persons.'
Then a youth wearing a red cap
Leaped to her side and snatched away the bandage.
And lo, the lashes had been eaten away
From the oozy eye-lids;
The eye-balls were seared with a milky mucus;
The madness of a dying soul
Was written on her face --
But the multitude saw why she wore the bandage."
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Withered
My heart beats the same
but nothings left standing
these fragile bones has giving in
as the weather begin to deter
my end. Life as its been
has crossed and my time in the spot light
has died out. As no one remembers,
as a memory is just that,
a thought to be forgotten
the mightiest have fell victim
and be left as ashes in the wind
a name to recollect as it passes by
a whisper from my ear to yours
and as i slowly rot in this time
forgotten by everyone.
Everything i ever held near
is gone in a blink of an eye
i see the mystery in my error
to believe all puzzles could be built
see all wound heal in time
but time doesn't heal all wound
for a mental scar shall
tarnish even the purest of us
as the spot light's only for a minute
how long that minute last
is how strong at heart you are
so as the insect eat what's left on
these withered bones
one last breath is all i ask
to shine one last time
poem by Robert Roberts
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Battles Of Light And Darkness
Warrior teenage shepherd David dragged
giant severed head of Philistine Goliath;
all the way to Jerusalem to Golgotha
in answer to God's prophecy command;
because in Genesis in God’s word is written Genesis 2: 14-15.
the serpent will be bruised in the head;
therefore David buried Goliath's head
beneath Golgotha to fulfill future kingdom sign;
head wound was fatal death wound
heal wound a wound to be recovered;
at Golgotha place of skulls the blood
Christ freely shed upon a cross freed;
all accepting Christ of original sin’s origin
Christ’s blood triumphed over buried hidden;
head of Goliath symbol for serpent crushed
heal wound rose in three days Satan defeated;
Battle won blood of Light crushed Satan under foot!
The Word of God strikes nations in abyss dragon will be put!
Thousand years ended Satan will be freed to mislead!
Fire defeated into lake of fire sulphur the Devil will be hurled! Revelation.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Thrombocytopenia
But you promised, but you promise.
And you died without even saying goodbye.
Anger, confusion, sorrow.
Feeling it through my heart as it becomes hollow.
Thrombocytopenia
Why did it have to be this way?
Questioning the very existence of the day.
As if it could be changed.
As time could be stopped, or rewound.
Please somebody hit pause then play.
Then just maybe it would be okay.
Thrombocytopenia
Sometimes the simplest of words will do.
I loved you.
I loved you.
To the point of insanity then there was only more.
I speak in past tense to help me move past the thoughts of it.
The grieving process.
A process that one time is more then a enough.
A ghost that has become this numbness.
A skeleton that haunts you in the back of your mind.
Flash backs from time to time.
Thrombocytopenia
Trying to grab on to stars before they fade.
With so much at stake.
Why does their have to be so many aches and pains.
When does the bleeding stop?
Thrombocytopenia.
A wound that just won't heal.
And I can feel.
My insides pouring out through this wound that just won't heal.
This wound that just won't heal.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Objects In The Rear View Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are
Objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are
The skies were pure and the fields were green
And the sun was brighter than its ever been
When I grew up with my best friend kenny
We were close as any brothers than you ever knew
It was always summer and the future called
We were ready for adventures and we wanted them all
And there was so much left to dream and so much time to make it real
But I can still recall the sting of all the tears when he was gone
They said he crashed and burned
I know Ill never learn why any boy should die so young
We were racing, we were soldiers of fortune
We got in trouble but we sure got around
There are times I think I see him peeling out of the dark
I think hes right behind me now and hes gaining ground
But it was long ago and it was far away, oh God it seems so very far
And if life is just a highway, then the soul is just a car
And objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are
And objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are
And when the sun descended and the night arose
I heard my father cursing everyone he knows
He was dangerous and drunk and defeated
And corroded by failure and envy and hate
There were endless winters and the dreams would freeze
Nowhere to hide and no leaves on the trees
And my fathers eyes were blank as he hit me again and again and again
I know I still believe hed never let me leave, I had to run away alone
So many threats and fears, so many wasted years before my life became
My own
And though the nightmares should be over
Some of the terrors are still intact
Ill hear that ugly coarse and violent voice
And then he grabs me from behind and then he pulls me back
There was a beauty living on the edge of town
And she always put the top up and the hammer down
And she taught me everything Ill ever know
About the mystery and the muscle of love
The stars would glimmer and the moon would glow
Im in the back seat with my julie like a romeo
And the signs along the highway all said, caution! kids at play!
Those were the rights of spring and we did everything
There was salvation every night
We got our dreams reborn and our upholstery torn
But everything we tried was right
She used her body just like a bandage
She used my body just like a wound
Ill probably never know where she disappeared
But I can see her rising up out of the back seat now
Just like an angel rising up from a tomb
And objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are
And objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are
She used her body just like a bandage
She used my body just like a wound
Ill probably never know where she disappeared
But I can see her rising up out of the back seat now
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faithful Trust
There’s nothing to offer to those ignoble vows
But a long wail of dejection if this heart allows
Trust has come to open the wound
Averment carries no word for word
The misguided mind has become the guard
Trust has come to open the wound
A solemn promise’s been made to none
With faithlessness it is believed to have gone
Trust has come to open the wound
The wound that's trapped into bleeding emotion
To heal the pain it drinks the potion
Then trust has gone with its faithful notion
And everything fades with that true devotion.
Written on the night of the 23rd of October,2010
©Munia Khan 2010
poem by Munia Khan
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Wound
a wound will always
be a wound.
a scar may come
to say you are healed
but soon it will
remember the wound.
perhaps you have not
loved enough
to learn from those
whose hearts
are broken, they
say: forgive and forget.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Not The Doctor
I don't want to be the filler if the void is solely yours
I don't want to be your glass of single malt whiskey
Hidden in the bottom drawer
I don't want to be a bandage if the wound is not mine
Lend me some fresh air
I don't want to be adored for what I merely represent to you
I don't want to be your babysitter
You're a very big boy now
I don't want to be your mother
I didn't carry you in my womb for nine months
Show me the back door
Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6
Well I already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and oh
Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom
You see it's too much to ask for and I am not the doctor
I don't want to be the sweeper of the egg shells that you walk upon
And I don't want to be your other half
song performed by by Alanis Morissette from Jagged Little Pill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Naked Snake
Tree wound
Earth ground
Hissing and biting
Its own tongue
Its own tail
Changing its skin
Sky flung
House burdened snail
In the traces of the wet curse left
Wrapped in red lace lobster cleft
Creeping the bottom of the original fall
Poisonous curves wound within all
A bit of poison turns into a bit of the cure
Wound within a knot of circles of the sin
Reaching high above the realms of the pure
Curable disease of its own medicine
Bitter taste poisoned blood shivering in mud
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Anxiety
The stop of the flood of letters and,
The stop of the flood of love;
But times are changing for you and i,
And i need time to go on with my mind.
Anxiety with the stone-dearf ears,
And of the love of a bandage wound;
But the Princess will soon burst out in tears.
Can you imagine it?
And of a royal visit and without food;
But i am worried about the facts of your love.
No easy walk to success but,
Everything which has abeginning has an end;
And i am now on the hard road of my life.
Are we dying enough to help each other?
Fir the signs of the time are here with us;
And i am full of anxiety.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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About the repentance
I am cheerful for what I’ve done
But more so for what I haven’t.
I am painful for what I’ve made
But more so for what I haven’t.
I am thankful for what I’ve got
But more so for what I haven’t.
I am shameful for what I’ve done
But more so for what I haven’t.
To rinse the sword won’t plug the blood;
To sheath the sword won’t heal the wound;
To break the sword won’t undo the wound.
Repentance is a selfish act
With no alternatives yet found.
06.05.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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