Quotes about nauseous, page 4
I Have Worms Inside My Mouth
at first i wanted to spit them all
wanting to relieve myself
with all the hassle
in keeping worms
that my friends detest
they tell me
that i must spit them all
for reasons of
sanitation
or perhaps
for my own sanity
i think about it
and the possibilities
of finally throwing up
after all i get
nauseous
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Thermometrical Ballade
There’s a wind up that licks like a flame,
And the sun is a porthole of hell.
Now evanish prim notions of shame,
And the craving to look rather well –
In pyjamas you’re never a swell,
And you’ve chosen some roomily made.
Oh! for ices these pangs to dispel –
It’s one hundred and nine in the shade!
We have limped in from tennis. That game ! –
I’d as soon with the damned where they dwell
Stoke a furnace and bathe in the same!
There’s no drink human craving to quell,
Not thin chablis nor sweet muscatel.
Never more shall we see, I’m afraid,
The cool shallows, the pale asphodel.
It’s one hundred and nine in the shade.
You recline an invertebrate frame
In the moisture your atoms expel,
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poem by Edward George Dyson
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A Firing Squad
A spiritual master's words of upliftment
about love for self, inner sanctuary, true
love as goodwill towards all men, eternal
bliss; are not helping as I sit here with my
digestion disrupted, white as a sheet
Feeling overpowering fatigue - spiritual
education does not work for a sick body,
I am the most unevolved human being,
only one concept makes sense: life is
a degenerative disease - I cannot
withdraw into my inner citadel while my
body is in hell, my safe fortress against
a tempestuous world is going to pieces
in the heat, I am nauseous and wish I
were dead already - if I am a creator
As the wise guru says, then I am one of
the worst, creating subhuman conditions
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Modern Vertigo
Standing uncentered
At a canted angle-
Slanted in my frame of mind.
I can see a clear destination ahead.
All that empty, white space-
A long shot extended to the edges,
The scenery bleeding out before my eyes.
I'm boxed-in by all the possibilities.
Opportunity, sprawling and vast,
Compresses me in depressive formats,
Feeling out of focus-
A disjunctive cut blurring in and out-
As my reticle zooms
In choppy shots.
The sleek, stark status quo
Keeps me claustrophobic
As time and expectation come ever closer.
Almost simultaneously,
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poem by Tim Stensloff
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Unnaturally Ours!
Please, don't go in there, where you can't be with me,
Nauseous air, millions of microbes, though cools below sixteen,
Come out and look at me, waiting just far away as the omnipresence,
I have the coldest brain, emitting fastest signals in hottest pause,
The warmest belly with frequent showers, willows applause,
The melting deposit inside me plays the truant without mercy,
A Jacuzzi, two third full of salted water for you to swim to glee,
The armies of clouds engage in shooting with flashing lightening,
Fine golden sand that is hot in the home of camels, but wet,
Near the home of human, Come out; feel me with your wits,
Smell mine, very fragrant, though the Rafflesia, the giant bloom,
Flowers once in many years emits repelling odor, has no stems,
Taste me and you will not leave me and stay with me forever,
Hear me; I have the musical noise that comes out from your gadgets,
Flowing rivers giggle, the swaying leaves speak soft,
Breaking trees shouts, before the storm, air cries,
After the storm it is quiet, the silence in the falling slow flakes,
Drips of rain dropp as the people running for festivals and galas,
When I can reveal my soul to you, why do you hide and grieve?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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From Gordon’s bay harbour
From Gordon’s bay harbour
we took a boat
along the coast
of False Bay
and your fingers
knotted through mine
while we sailed
into the ocean.
The launch went up and down
the waves of a calm sea
although a light breeze
was blowing, throwing
drops of spray
into our faces.
Your cheeks were glowing
and your eyes
had the look of adventure
and anticipation
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poem by Gert Strydom
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111
The useless poem
He knows that his poetry
Is a useless endeavor
As you put it,
There is no money for a poet,
Not even fame when he is alive
Or even dead, perhaps for some,
Whose lines are judged for greatness
His poetry is nothing but a way of laundering
His emotions,
Not even read
Nobody really cared
How many nights did he spend to make a poem?
His heart bleeds
For more pain, his stomach acidifies for more
Harmful corrosive liquids rising to his brain
Through all his intestines and veins
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The useless poem
He knows that his poetry
Is a useless endeavor
As you put it,
There is no money for a poet,
Not even fame when he is alive
Or even dead, perhaps for some,
Whose lines are judged for greatness
His poetry is nothing but a way of laundering
His emotions,
Not even read
Nobody really cared
How many nights did he spend to make a poem?
His heart bleeds
For more pain, his stomach acidifies for more
Harmful corrosive liquids rising to his brain
Through all his intestines and veins
And he goes groggy
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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We Still Have a Few More Days
'We will seek them out,
In their hiding places.
We will reveal who they are!
And you will know their names.'
...and on the issues of Wall Street greed?
'We will seek them out,
In their hiding places.
We will reveal who they are!
And you will know their names.'
...political corruption?
'We will seek them out,
In their hiding places.
We will reveal who they are!
And you will know their names.'
~John? John?
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nithari Killings
The inhuman heinous crime,
Took lives of so many who had not reached their prime.
One man’s perverted mind and lust
Filled me with horror and disgust.
Is it really true
That the law had no clue?
Despite the parents doubts and fears,
Whose life went out of gear,
Running from pillar to post
To get someone to see what they had lost.
it makes me nauseous.
How can any one be so self righteous?
the poor lost the light of their day and night
who can empathize with their plight?
No guilt, shame or remorse,
What if someone gave him a fatal dose
Of his own lethal medicine
And killed his loved ones and kin?
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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