Long Bandage Poems
Long Bandage Poems. Below are the most popular long Bandage by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bandage poems by poem length and keyword.
everybody’s dying
everybody’s dying, everybody’s dying
in this world we call insane
and nobody knows it,
‘cause it’s part of the game
and there is no resurrection
once we fall down from that cross
and there is no institution
to redeem our final loss
and there is no cotton bandage
that can stop the bleeding wound
and no time for looking backwards
‘cause we are already doomed
everybody’s dying, everybody’s dying
and we’re smiling all the while
we just never realize it
we just line up single file
and the explosion of that bullet
bursts across the nighttime sky
and the mushroom cloud filters down
and the laughing people cry
and there is no restoration
once our cities tumble down
and there is no consolation
for no prizes can be found
and there is no rhyme or reason
that can color over dead
and no time for looking backwards
to the words that Jesus said
everybody’s dying, everybody’s dying
and some have sold their souls
and everybody knows it
after sifting through the coals
and there is no hope for another time
the stainless sword just fell
there is no care for your fellow man
as he stumbles into hell
and there is no constitution
that politicians sign
for the sign’s already written
and sealed since the start of time
and everybody’s dying, everybody’s dying
though none can answer why
and there are no super patriots
who storm across the sky
and there is no firm foundation
to hold your footing down
and there is no more destitution
past the hunger sound
and there is no vegetation
to keep a man alive
he should have eaten the bread of life
if he wanted to survive
and no time for looking backwards
to the way it could have been
that time has passed and satan’s tongue
has pierced the hearts of men
everybody’s dying, everybody’s dying
God, take this pain from me
this sight of annihilation
this staining of the sea
everybody’s dying, everybody’s dying
the anguish is too real
even a blind man who has darkened eyes
no longer can conceal
that window of his inner soul
which holds the picture clear
everybody’s dying, everybody’s dying
my friend…
the time is here
tolbert
CAGED BIRD SINGS
I’ve not talked about these things to tell
Because I’m sworn to secrecy of sorts
You’ve heard the tales and read the books
Know what happens if you break the rules
Well today I’m here crossing the “I double-dawg-dare you” line
Father shows his love for me while he creeps in my room at night
Years go by how did I know my memory would go dark
Bird
Child, was I, voice not yet my own
Innocence stripped, beginning at home
Sense of self seemingly washed away with the whack of a hand
Whose does it belong to this time
Oh I know let’s count the welts…she wins
Mother’s hand lay wrapped around the extension cord, today
Yes, her expression of love for me again in a special way
Beaten into submission of silence and stillness
Emotions continue retreating inward
Caged
Child, was I, voice not yet my own
Was this to be my life one of quiet and still
Not so any one would know for years to come
Shattered youth burned from the inside out with pain
Yet, I walk, skip and play with a grin and a laugh
Laughter covering up so much for so many
How long can the bandage stretch
Can it hold up much longer
Edges frayed, torn and splintered from years of abuse
Completely falling apart was not an option, not so anyone can see
Who do you tell when you know not what to do
What do you do when you know not what to say
How can you say it when you have a voice but dare not speak
Caged Bird
Child, no longer I, voice not yet to call my own
Going through life with a laugh and a smile
Knowing something is not right but not knowing
Every corner darkness seems to lurk nearby
Cannot breathe because of the heaviness upon my chest
Life has not been my own, others in control
Body staying while mind wanting to be set free
Feeling trapped, scared and alone, so escapes I would try
Key
Wounded from all the hurt, leaving behind scars not all remedied with topical cream
Continually battling life as if in front of a camera
Sleep, sleep, crave for peaceful sleep
Give back the restful nights stolen away
Thieves in the night my parents and others
Walked into my life, stole pieces of me
Attempted to leave me for dead
Failed each time because I am a SURVIVOR
Child, no longer am I, voice found and being released
Voice singing words of truth once not able to speak
Caged Bird Sings
Form:
EVOL UT I ON ... NO 1 TU LOVE
(The Eden Agenda III)
I have loved most everyone, yet so few have loved me back.
So much good I have done, but suspicions aroused, they attack.
How I so long to drown my sorrows and drown in a tank of arrack.
Is it that they are taken aback, or is it ‘true love’ they truly lack?
How can one with so much love get so little love back?
As long as I have lived, I’ve lived to love so long as I’ve loved to live.
But how can I live for long in a world that does not love to give? ….nor has love enough to give?
Surely I must grieve.
…Or perhaps I shall evolve to no longer believe in all that I perceive.
Therein lies the urge for the surge of my dirge.
Rejected of love, subjected to hate - now dejected with life.
So sensitive that my soul is sliced by the blunt end of a knife.
To whom shall I turn for bandage for these emotional scars?
Even in moments of desperation I’ve looked up to the stars
For out there [I’ve been told] is that which is the Sea of Tranquility,
All I have here is a Dead Sea - in which to drown with my vulnerability.
My shadow refuses to be seen with me - it’s nowhere to be seen at high noon,
Come setting of the Sun, it runs further from me - and stretches out for the Moon.
Why do I not shine such that the Sun beams …and perhaps even squints?
Why do the vultures retch? ….and away from my carcass, the hyena sprints?
I have looked up to the raindrops from heaven - simply yearning to be kissed,
But even they, with accursed stealth - my sad lips they missed.
Who shall cut me a slice of love?
Please apportion a portion.
Who will pour me a cup of warmth?
Please don’t ration the passion.
My spirit is broken, the Spirits have spoken…
The daemons mean to take my life as a token.
Let ‘Caution’ throw me to the wind, I pray;
Havoc, please invite me out to play.
Misery, won’t you hold my hand ….everyday?
Loneliness won’t you be my friend? …Please stay.
Oh, how I feel so low, so lifeless. But then, who cares?
Just another life less….
….another life less
…just another lifeless.
The evolution of my life, I’ve looked at from back to front:
……no 1 tu love.
The creation of my life, I’ve looked, from on high to low:
…….Love from above.
(The Fg 81.5.8)
They called it school
I called it hell
From the huge imposing prison like doors
To the doom like toll of the bell
Everyday the same
Running for the school bus
Full of uncivilized Wild kids
Being pushed and shoved
Countless kids in uniform
Fearing the teachers and the day they were born
Satchel bags and lucky bags
Late for lessons again
Going to the headmasters office
For the cane ooh how my bum was in pain
Teacher at the blackboard
Pupils getting bored thinking about girls
Motorbikes and cars
Playing football in the yard
Playing sports in skirts and shorts
The one too big that moma bought
School desks fountain pens and ink
Boy how some of my classmates did stink
Trying to blow up the science lab
Bubbly gum and sherbert dabs
Giggling girls and bashful boys
Girls jutting out everywhere
Pigtails and ribbon on their hair
Always getting into a fight
Going home with a torn blazer and black eye every night
Lots of kisses on my homework
Rolling about in the dirt
Pouring ink into the headmasters aquarium
Holes in your trouser bum
Crafty cigarette hidden behind a wall
Morning assembly in the hall
School dinners you couldn't pick
Forced down your throat and made you sick
Being punished and kept behind doing lines
I must have wrote 'I must be good' a million times
Frog spawn put into teachers bag
Gas taps left on in the lab
The school nurse giving you a jab
Riot breaks out in class Running a race on sports day and coming last
Pea shooter and catapult Pulling your tongue out and being rude to adults
First love and nervous thumbled kiss
Girls with new sticky out bits
Hair growing in places it didn't before
Limbs aching and so sore
Always in trouble up to no good playing truant in the wood
Letting the tiers down on the headmasters car
Girls wearing training bra's
Exams were such a sham but wrote the answers under the bandage on my
hand Teachers talking about things I didn't understand
What a waste of time I was going to be a pop star and soon a man
Those daydreams of youth that still remain aloof
Hiding in the bushes watching girls playing hockey and net ball on the field
I still recall how that used to feel
Long school summer holidays away from hell
School books thrown down the well
Then back to school again to days of terror
And pain up early facing hell.
Peter Dome,copyright.2014. July.
Decades of a formula that only he knew about it and drew,
Cascades of his artwork came to a head in his last years,
Glissades of a swan in a lake that only a handful had seen,
Tirades made its mark on him, distant from fellow peers.
~~[Van Gogh]~~
Impressed of his art garnered some interest in his style,
Oppressed, a constant companion only he can befriend,
Obsessed by what he drew insanely violent he withdrew,
Distressed he found salvation in asylums to not descend.
~~[Wheatfield With Crows]~~
Crows, black gawking, feed in a meadow ache for harvest,
Know that art needs to be made, scheme food for thought,
Those sinister birds, a murder of crows festering the grain,
Throes a fit mocking 'em, flys, pained him more than aught.
~~[Starry Night]~~
Bleak sky of blues, stars gave rise to a miracle been made,
Streak of a sprawl unfurls his heavens tethered madness,
Speak not lest he loses his concentration, maintains focus,
Meek town his groundwork, lofty jewel amidst the sadness.
~~[Bedroom At Arles]~~
Red, that laid on a bed, table, chairs, paintings on the wall,
Said was where he severed his ear, water bowl mirror hung,
Head bandaged where he bled, he does a self-portrait of it,
Deadman walking, Gauguin part ways, no song to be sung.
~~[Self-Portrait Bandage Ear And Pipe]~~
Drew closer, when they were both young, be such friends,
Few friends Van Gogh had, Gauguin was at that moment,
Grew apart after Vince shaving Paul, Vince wanted to hurt,
Knew time together was getting just a bit grave and potent.
~~[House At Auvers]~~
Return to Arles made Van Gogh happy for good times there,
Upturn spirits was a rarity, too few and far in the middle,
Discern with him was questionable because he's unstable,
Concern for his good, art kept him busy, else is second fiddle.
~~[Doctor Gachet]~~
Fields back of the house, a pistol, he plans to shoot himself,
Wields his pistol, shoots, nobody hears, years gun lays hidden,
Yields his brother Theo to his side as doctor aides him little,
Shields truth futile, his art was world-renown, dies bedridden.
Krakatoa Kritic #007
Let those comment who kill with soft words when they ‘get’ you!
Should we hold praise hostage, retreat when we can’t see
reciprocal giftings that laud what we write in return?
My take’s yours if you like it, still yours if you don’t, but
a gift I hope serves you! My joy’s to encourage,
not harm. This might be the sole poem I post here (1), that’s fine!
Let all praise what we glean, words hearts join with mind’s sinew
praise noticed or not as you pass, whistle ‘Dixie,’
fly all flags half-mast! Share your muse though I freeze, melt, or burn:
blow my top at poor rhymes, curse free verse! Friend, inhabit
your prose, don't let rhythm and rhyme be a bandage
that grafts a snake’s tail on a mouse! Sing! Canary in mine!
The “One and Only” Krakatoa Kritic #007
(1) By here, I mean on this ‘Krakatoa Kritic #007’ site. I will continue to post poems under my actual name. I will try to respond to all questions about any review. I will not review others' work on request but seek to reward those I see contributing to others' growth, whose poems and whose comments appeal to me.
PS: I have published quite a few poems on PoetrySoup now! And I’m grateful to all readers if they comment or not! I think, however, that numbered, anonymous comments that only PS could identify the author of would be a significant improvement to PoetrySoup’s much-appreciated site! Members can already delete any comment that offends them! In this spirit, look for comments from me, ‘Krakatoa Kritic #007,’ on this site, on your poem! All payments/bribes are acceptable but will not get you nothing though I am a gold-medal receiver. A more loving, healthy community is my primary goal. I will post my reviews of all poems on both PoemHunter and PoetrySoup. I hope this will increase your poem's readership, and draw new readers to poets on both sites.
Comments might be more efficacious if it was impossible to construe them to be solicitations to read the commenter’s poetry (on both PoemHunter and PS). There is enough false praise in the world.
I do not claim to have the ear of God! The poems and comments I offer on this site are my suggestions, hoping to help both sites to become even better servants of poetic expression. InshAllah!
From the distance they could see the light.
Flickers, shinning in the still of the night.
In front all they could see was darkness,
a blackness that took over the forest.
They had been traveling for many hours.
Hungry, tired, hurting from the many days
on the road they thought each day they
would reach the place they had heard about.
Exhaustion took over they fell into a deep sleep.
Morning came way to quickly their bellies growling
from hunger, their mouths dry sore from not
having much needed water it did not look good.
Than in the distance they heard rustling in the
brushes away off a voice calling out are you there?
The huddled together staying ever so quiet because
they knew what this kind was capable of doing to them.
Again the soft gentle voice calls out to them is there
anyone there? please follow my voice and I will take
you to a place where you will never want for anything.
They took a chance and followed the voice carefully.
At the end of the road there was a house with lights.
It was small but it was beckoning them to come on.
The voice said go ahead it is okay for you are at the
house of The Keeper she will keep you from harm.
So they went ever so carefully one step at a time.
Meowing quietly, the door opens and they run away.
Shhhh she said it is okay now I won't hurt you I promise.
So she sat on the porch steps for hours waiting patiently
for them to come out from their hiding place so she could
feed them, bandage their wounds and bathe them.
Finally they came inching closer and closer to the food.
She sat quietly watching them gobble down the food so
fast they choked, drinking water like it was a precious
jewel they had just discovered for the first time.
When they finished they allowed her to pick them up.
Holding them close to her heart wrapped in a warm blanket.
She whispered in their ears that they will be loved, feed,
no more harm will come to them if they would just trust her.
Broken trust was something she was all to familiar with.
The kitties lay sleeping after eating, drinking their wounds
bandaged, all bathed wrapped snug in their warm blankets.
Knowing their journey, pain, was over because they had
followed the voice who lead them to house of The Keeper.
Hello Walls, do you mind if I talk to you quickly?
You've seen the real me so I don't need to make it pretty
Can I paint my ugly truths over you in a beautiful colour?
Hello Walls, do you mind if I talk to you quickly?
I'm not Bon Jovi I'm not living on a prayer
I'm battling depression and living a nightmare
Trying to overcome it without giving in to my fears
I cry on the pad, while sharing wisdom with my tears
My tears transform into words, and they become people's favourite quotes
I'm the voice for those who got laughed at when they spoke
I write to inspire others and make sure I survive myself
I've been numb, but my words are felt
You've seen me at my worst, when I used to self-harm and pick a blade up
Lock myself in the house for months on end and the door stays shut
It was just me and you, with numerous booty calls
I felt you judging me, because I could never give a girl my all
I was distant to feelings and would avoid love
I promised to call these girls knowing I never would
I had the pen and pad but was scared to make my own chapters
How could I give my all to anything when Depression had me captured?
One night stand after one night stand
Girl after girl, but none were in my life plans
I wasn't a playa, I was using these girls as a bandage
Because while they were next to me, my pain would vanish
Some would leave their underwear, just so they had a reason to come back
I used to talk to you, like why have they done that?
They can do better, no one deserves someone as messed up as me
Sex became so easy to get, it no longer felt like a luxury
I don't know why, but females seemed to love this broken man
I'd push them away, and they'd still embrace me with open hands
One or 2, judged when they felt my scars, others say I melt their heart
When I look back at who I was, I judge myself so hard
You've seen me grow and how far I've come
You've been with me the whole time, you've seen what I've done
No one knows me the way you do
Goodbye walls, I've got nothing more to say to you
Hello Walls, do you mind if I talk to you quickly?
You've seen the real me so I don't need to make it pretty
Can I paint my ugly truths over you in a beautiful colour?
Hello Walls, do you mind if I talk to you quickly?
A wounded soul was seeking help.
Who was there to aid him?
You were set before me with a need.
I had the means to help and gave you nothing.
Wounded and bleeding
in the mist of a pack of wolves I left you.
I saw the hurt in your eyes and in your heart,
from the attacks they had done to you, and still I did nothing.
Knowing that they would sniff out the wounds,
I left you unarmed and unprotected.
Surrounded by merciless wolves
seeking those they may devour,
because of my own fears and weaknesses,
to them, is where I left you.
I did not attempt to lift you up out of the blood-drenched dirt
To clean your wounds, I offered only a bandage
A bandage to cover what I did not want to see.
I am ashamed that I have left behind a bleeding brother in Christ.
Please forgive me!
I failed you, .... I failed my Lord.
If you allow me,
I will do what I can to help you
Clean your wounds so the Lord may heal them.
I will lift you up to the Lord in prayer
Asking the Lord, that He may pour
His healing balm over you.
By God’s leading, you will walk past the snarling fangs
and no longer be harmed.
For you are a child of God, and
He watches over all that He loves.
Even those of us when we fall short,
and when we fail each other, He ALWAYS is there.
He sees the godly man, the righteous man,
the gentle and loving man that lives within the spirit.
His sight goes deeper than what man can see.
I pray someday ours also will see that deep.
I thank God, that He waits for us to see our mistakes,
and gives us the chance to do right by our brother or sister in Christ.
He gently pricks our heart until we submit and ask,
‘what is it You would have me do, Lord?’
I ask you, dear brother, for your forgiveness.
Please give me the chance to be of help.
Prayers for you are sent heaven bound.
Know that you are loved by God.
You are prayed for by one whose heart is broken
by the conviction of my failures.
Be not ashamed of where you were brought back to life from,
instead rejoice loudly, dance for the Glory of God
For He has come upon you and saved you!
Give God the glory that is rightfully His!
My 2 hands are not strong
enough to bring you on the 1st
flight back to what we had.
I can feel the past tense
pretending to beat down on my
head with your own fists,
stopping at the last inch each
time, and making my body
flinch and tense up.
The meaning of a martyr, I've
looked up 12 times already,
hoping that on the twelfth time,
what you say and what you do
match together so that words
will become my Judas no
longer.,
but I would still die for that
betraying kiss.
I hate worrying over things
I have no control over.
You would never think it would
take such physicality
to keep my spirituality when
born in a world full of demons.
It's rough, living this way; you
can't have one without the
other in this life.
My hands are not strong
enough
to save a single soul.
No nail iron driven openings in
my wrists to assure anyone
that
"It is finished."
His spirit may live inside me,
but I cannot be someone else's
Savior.
These hands were still created
to do marvelous things
like,
writing love letters on the first
of October
and, massaging your mind with
aspirations you hadn't even
dreamed about yet.
Though the fact of you being
far away beats me with a heavy
leather belt of unfairness,
a martyr
is only a martyr
if he's dead,
and I am not.
And even though sometimes it
may seem that I'm playing
tug-o-war with a freight train,
I'll keep my grip secure as
the strongest definition for the
word 'tight' will allow.
I will bandage my bruised
fingers in circles 1 by 1
because a circle will only stop
roll once you've told it to.
But even then,
when I look back and see the
10 chances that never let you
go,
I'll recollect the 1 kiss you
could've given me.
I'll remember the 12 definitions
that shout with the same
conviction
"You are worth it!"
I'll look straight down straight
up straight slanted & keep my
eyes straight forward at the
beautiful person in the front
seat of my heart.
My 2 hands aren't strong
enough to board you on the 1st
plane back as soon as I'd like to
believe,
but I will pick you up
when you need me.
You've got yourself a first class
seat.