Long Sufferers Poems
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A nobler theme needs more sublime art
In order to its honorable nuances impart;
And thus may famous muses of niftier writ
More tastefully craft this little lyrical script.
And if generous gods of superior rhyme there be,
Who with pure ease mellifluous tunes compose,
Then may such these tottering lines indite with me
And delve deep where rarest musical gems repose.
Where do love’s purest pearls lie
Beneath this bland ancient sky;
Where hug and kiss their warmest
Elusive touch pulsate at its best?
Truth is maimed and denied its form
And falsehood has become the norm;
Who knows any place she still thrives
Wholly unsevered by knavish knives?
And hope no longer blossoms
As it did in sweeter days of yore,
Now she’s worn out to the bottoms
And angst and doubt rule to the core.
And peace completely extinct is:
Chaos and strife now carry the day
And gallivant about in their hubris,
As mourning sufferers tearfully pray.
Out of hell’s breath the Devil’s Coachman comes and turns
around the tale to woe twists as the world creeps backwards
underneath the clay slithering sacrificial savagery begins
Ghastly ghostly spectres watch on with soulless glee
under laid this icy moon the toxic evil venom spews
within hideous precision it claw’s innocent victims prey
Fiercely gnashing jaws instinctively in this fiendish predator of night shades
dark striking off balance this stead of hell delivers his deadliest of blows
disturbingly the pungent smell permeates this surrounding sphere
Paralyzing unwary sufferers arching like a scorpion ready to strike
acrimony spreads stealthily through the shadowy invasion within the beast’s bite
suffering of hades destructive force inflicts a prelude to the apparitions
Awakening within this lair of madness an unsuspecting sacrifice
blinding under tombstones creeping slowly chill’s out
through one veil of darkened soil a nocturnal predator comes to feed
Liquefying resistant victim within the glaze of ebony eyes
mystic powers claiming to be magic crushing the core of Eve’s apple
emerging covered with its sclerotized plates the Coachman devours
Repast of putrid skin the last victim lies rotten
one captured soul sinks into the river of Acheron
final reward for the unwitting wounded prey
Begins eternal downward descent
drawn up and treasured by this hungry decedent of a Rove
carried away into hidden hollows of the dead roaring
Fiercely jealous of it’s captive trophy
sector’s remain vigilant to guard such treasured stored
this Coachman’s rightly domain claims a legion to an underworld
The deepest and darkest secrets expelled unrighteous
this scarabaeus reaper as black inside with a rapier blade and sickle
condemned are the two faced between thee jaws of this deadly fiend locked on
A co-written piece by Liam Mcdaid & Donna Loughman
I am the air so nothing will be my boundaries and
nothing will control me to write
I am the water nothing will polute me and
nothing will restrain me to flow
I am the fire nothing will near me to exploit and
nothing will misuse me, mis handle me
I am common to all and
none can claim my thoughts and my poems
My heart will shed tears on all disasters
wherever it may happen ,I t will shed tears
My mind will run behind all Sufferers and
my hands will be ready to heal their pains
No boundaries to me and to my humanity
May be I am an Indian
I will be the first man to go to rescue in their problems
My religion is human my language is Love and
my country and ruler is Peace
Yes my country and ruler is Peace
The entire globe is my home and
all the lives are my blood relations
Welcome to my heart it is so huge to
keep all of you in it with love and Peace
CIPA or Congenital Insensitivity to Pain with Anhidrosis
is a genetic disorder very rarely found among us.
They afflicted with this disorder have a damaged gene
and as a result, sufferers never experience the sensation of pain.
Many may assume that this would be a good thing
but they who are afflicted encounter much suffering.
Death from hypothermia among CIPA patients is quite common
because they never know when their body temperature is low or rising.
Some CIPA patients have had to remove all of their teeth
to prevent them from chewing on their lips whenever they eat.
There isn't any cure or treatment presently
for the few afflicted with this rare genetic disease.
I guess with so few afflicted, it's not a medical priority,
but maybe this disorder can be used positively.
Many bed ridden terminal patients suffer needlessly
with agonizing pain until they're deceased.
In my opinion, they ought to have the right to be
euthanized and put out of their misery,
but that isn't ethical among the medical community.
This is where I believe CIPA would come in very handy.
If research can figure out how to damage this otherwise healthy gene
responsible for allowing us to feel the sensation of pain,
perhaps it could be injected as a serum possibly
and relieve the chronic pain from dying patients permanently.
The patient would have a leisurely, peaceful exit completely pain free
and ethics wouldn't be violated within the medical community.
All terminal patients in chronic pain could all die humanely...
...but then I'm not a professional. This is just my theory.
Gordon Aikman was the director of research,
For the Better Together campaign for the vote,
For the Scottish Referendum so as to search,
Folks hearts until they opted for the unity coat.
Diagnosed with MND June 2014 he immediately,
Wrote about this in The Scotsman regional,
And popularised the MND bucket challenge icy,
By raising the need for research, conditional.
In speeches and articles he gives the simple truth,
That a cure for MND will only be realised and found,
If more research is done, if we get in the booth,
Which necessitates more money being given around.
We have the answer, with a little bit if work,
If we put some effort in and get down to it,
There will be no MND sufferers to just lurk,
In the future there’ll be no cases by MND hit.
God is not in the equation, he has no edifice,
Gordon puts medicine and care as salvation,
Doctors speak the truth and are the kind face,
To sufferers in need of love and consideration.
Deciding upon your beliefs starts here, with this,
With what the body means and its elevation,
And accepting that doctors save, have the fizz,
Makes you sane and able to give in edification.
The force of the righteous is full of the misguided, a forsaken realm to which we're never invited. The gullible minds of weakness, led by their own obliqueness. "Take your children (Psalms) and thrash them about the sharp edged rocks"...Thus is one of the many reasons that I continually put forward these endless mocks. I can't believe that an all loving, all forgiving gOD cast down the suicide self, As well as the innocent smited children are molested, accused and abused torturers women, and those with mental health. Justified in disguise the light is not as holy as it seems. Consider them monstrous like the most horrific of dreams. They need to pay for their mistakes and quit using our souls as the stakes. Stop the infection, expel falsehood's, refuse the lie, accept it's contradiction and reject the reposed. Religions built on scriptures, with words that are 96% fictitious and written by man then juxtaposed. Fu*k me! I will not believe that the victims of the depressed and self-sufferers are to be condemned. All the while the predators and the profaned are running around free and 'forgiven', no I refuse to pretend. I will not lend a hand nor accept this malevolence as benevolence. Mine eyes cannot live inside this disbelief or believe and accept a King James version full on pretense. I could never have my own faith in this creation gOD, who is more evil than that of those so called "Satanist". When you lay down the holy and unholy bibles... The laws, the sins, the rules side by side. You to will be aghast that the supposed wicked have true morality, character, and pride in which to abide. Devastated that our lives are denied by dreams and disillusions, Some where in time we were misled straight into misinterpreted confusions.
As I lay on my death bed
Reflecting the past
On things that I viewed
My, they sure make me laugh
People complaining it's raining again
Saying their day won't be the same
Leaving their food at the side of the plate
Watching the clock, in case their late
Sufferers of colds, Wow! can they play it out
The office warbler, to be seen they shout
The boastful, oh look what I have done today
Majority is, they get the same pay
The adverts between the programmes are too long
The radio never plays my song
Kept waiting while I queue
Cos the pensioners slow
Selfishness of the human ego
My time is going to follow deaths path
My you people, you sure make me laugh
I wish you all have many more days
What ever it is, work rest or play
Smile more in your daily strife
Try not to be too ungrateful in life
Enjoy the days, months and years ahead
As one day like me
You will be on your own Death Bed
At the closest point, Russia and the U.S.
Are less than two miles apart
If an altercation breaks out between them
Using bikes instead of tanks would be smart
Baby robins eat 14 feet of worms a day
Eeew! That's pretty gross to me
If you're a baby robin though you'd be anxious
To slither them down with glee
Cleopatra married two of her brothers
Might have considered it if I had one
George Washington grew marijuana in his garden
A pothead before President he'd become
Q-Tips were originally called “Baby Gays”
For obvious reasons, not a good idea
Tablecloths were originally meant to be towels
To wipe your face after eating tortillas
Cranberries are sorted by bouncing them
Ripe ones can be dribbled like a basketball
Hope their floors are immaculately clean
Else yours truly would really be appalled
Ancient Egyptians slept on pillows of stone
Guess they'd never hear of a Tempur-Pedic
Must have got up in a pretty foul mood
Uttering phrases that weren't too comedic
Did you know Burt Reynolds is a Cherokee
Well Kimosabe, that's a new one on me
A ball of glass bounces higher than a rubber ball
Who owns a ball of glass, that's silly
In our lifetime, we grow 590 miles of hair
Imagine if we never got it cut
We'd need a special valet trailing behind us
To make sure in a door it don't get shut
Lightning generates temperatures 5 times hotter
Than those at the surface of the sun
One ragweed plant releases a billion grains of pollen
Allergy sufferers don't think that's fun
I want to say something to the church respectfully If I may?
If God took a walk around now, what do you think He would say?
You claim you are a follower of Christ yet you turn away.
With all the racial divisions and church burnings in news today.
Wearing “WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?” bracelets won’t change a thing.
God is not mocked and He sees, you will each answer to Your King.
Is ignoring Americans suffering or school shooting what Jesus would do?
It would be different if the sufferers were the people related to you?
After every school shooting, the churches seem so far away
The least the world should see is God’s people gathering to pray.
When there is a shooting angry people are all we see.
Why can’t the local Pastors show up falling on their knees?
Instead, we sit inside a building collecting tithes, promoting books.
Talking about prosperity and not giving those suffering a second look.
Jesus said to give and it will be given back to you.
The collection plate is not the only way, there are better things to do.
Jesus said the Kingdom is here! Go “OUT!” and heal the hurt.
Instead, you strut around in fine clothes treating outside people like dirt.
They talk about us in the stores well-dressed and being loud.
Acting like we are the Devils kids, all arrogant and proud.
Stop hiding in the church house spreading gossip in the pews.
Try doing what the Lord said, go out and spread the “Good New!”
We believers will be accountable for what we do here today.
When you stand before the Lord, what will you be able to say?
Beneath boulders and slab, weathered and worn,
consciousness is a whisper, a clarity undistracted.
A refraction of light and sound, repeated and reborn.
Conscious yet unaware, the timeless undertow subtracted.
For this is the Ground of Being.
All conscious particulate above and below are invisible,
we are seafaring sailors of soul and free choice.
Our various solutions and resolutions are indivisible.
In Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle, we rejoice.
For this is the Ground of Being.
All living and dying offer myriad paths of travail.
Beyond time and space, there is a fundamental permanence.
As creatures of longing, we hold each other in the gale.
Our love, our deepest well, illuminates our transcendence.
We are subatomic dust entangling faster than light.
Our collective dreams and memories sparkle and dazzle.
Bodhisattvas like Jesus Christ lift sufferers into sight.
But our nonlocal transpersonal synchronicity still baffles.
Episodic and spontaneous, our passions and thoughts,
this is our realm of flash and fury, our daily wakefulness.
Forces of energy and matter, the mystery hidden in quartz,
this is our realm of sand, soil, and sea, our lifelong earthiness.
Wavelength collapse turns possibility into actuality.
Deep consciousness transforms our physical world.
Spirituality grants us creative engagement with reality.
Our inner light reaches the same limits as the fabled.
For this is the God of Being.