"hippocrates" poems
A hymn to paired planethood: Venus hits Pluto
as death, in cold orbit, collides with biology
smashing to fragments: demonic astrology
(more a black hole than a love-star, it’s true though).
Cynical cure for Eve’s womanly grievance
Concupiscent consequence: lust’s bitter fruit –
ah the thought… changing Sin into mere inconvenience.
Margaret sang her seductive refrain
about weeding the garden and progress and light.
Her sisters should view her with scornful disdain
but instead have adopted her murderous rite.
With sang-froid she promoted her racist eugenics
(as if she had never herself been a fetus),
condemning her heirs to postmodern polemics
while nurturing ardent desires to defeat us.
Suppressing the lives that she flushed down the drain
she would liberate Death – and resistance was vain.
As a midwife to modern life (though on the “anti” side)
Old Matron Margie racked up quite a legacy
singing the praises of sanctioned infanticide
calling the shots for the coming sick century.
Planning, quite calmly, to “cleanse” certain races
her zeal was empowered by murderous graces.
She labored to bring us such pearls of subduction:
“dilation and curettage”, “women’s autonomy”
“viable fetus”, “procedure”, a “suction”
Hippocrates retches to hear the taxonomy;
words that turn Life into mere reproduction.
She enters the realms of the ****** and the motherless
roundly condemned by her feminine otherness.
Man’s first protection: the God-given womb
which no infant should have to regard as their tomb.
Dismembered dark cherubs, assembling, greet her
as demons (in scrubs) holding baby-parts meet her.
Long may she burn with the medical cynics
this mother of Moloch, this founder of clinics.
Convenience is king when abortion’s the Queen
and the profits swell big with each nubile teen…
yet the fruit of such carnage remains to be seen.
I send her this song as a funeral wreath
and a card inked in blood. You may read what is there:
“To the Matrix Supreme of our culture of death
from the souls of the infants you slew on the earth.
May your torment increase with the children you bear.”
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
As i kiss you
My beloved MD
I want you re-animate me with your love
But I cannot help but think
You’re breaking you oath
To be with me
My Hippocrates
Love me the way
An insane man would love me
Passionately
Dec 5, 2020
Dec 5, 2020 at 4:40 AM UTC
The internal battle..eternal....(one from the vault)
Lucifer and Jehovah dancing some mad bossa nova
While angels on horse backs fought devils with black jacks
The white dove of peace had surrendered his lease
So God ripped off his wings.. he no longer sings
Then the Devil ripped out his heart so it could end at the start.
Wagner and Chopin got frightened..
..and off they ran.
But Beethoven and Bach were sat in the park
Composing arias to fight Hells hot fires.
While Chekhov and Handel burned coramandel
But the smoke from that pyre stank like a byre.
Socrates was sat dispensing the ethics
Hippocrates swore while dishing out medics
The Muses were musing one or two were enthusing
Oooh look.. the good against sinner
Let's go down the bookies and have a bet on the winner.
Cometh the day cometh the morn
Cometh the hour cometh the dawn.
Here is Joshua blowing his horn
And here comes Gabriel but all that he meets
Are the countless dead lining up on the streets
And the wounded and deathbound far far below
I feel sorry for Gabriel I wish he could go.
But Picasso arrives and cries
My God it's my Guernica I'll do a pastiche
Oh F*ck it he says and has a pastis (or two)
Then Pollack turns up totally ******
Picks up a paint and says what I have missed?
What a fantastic sight.. angels flashing demons crashing
The hounds of Hell with teeth a gnashing
Then Neptune arrives astride his watery chariot
Scything through Demons and sat beside Judas Iscariot
Mermen and mermaids mercilessly slayed
By Beelzebubs prototypes
Those that live in the black nights.
But as the dawn breaks God knows what it takes
So he sends for his legions calls out to all regions
Take arms and do battle
Till we hears Satans death rattle.
And the heavens rip asunder to the sound of the thunder.
Satan rings on Hells bell.. tells them all is not well
Then disappears from our sight as if he's turned off the light.
Then I awake with a start knowing that I've been a part
Of something vast something grand
A spiritual war being fought in this land
I am alive and I shall survive.
PRAISE BE.
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 9:08 AM UTC
I've kidnapped them
or so it seems
and so they scream
and scratch me
draw blood clawing
sheets and gowns
with desire to get out
to home not knowing where that is
couldn't make it if they did
bodies sick as minds
I bind them softly to beds
soothe them with meds
I've got to send them off
to dream inside
what's left inside
a place where they can let me doctor
this choice I make to get them better
while they are non-the-wiser
Is it wrong to put them under
am I white coated cruelty
or duty owed Hippocrates
taking those who know not what they do
and to them do onto.
Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 5:57 PM UTC
i.
In the archaic agora
Stayed apothecaries, money changers, and tradesmen;
Governor's with grape stained sin's
Himation throw over's, as for women a chiton, white garb glint.
ii.
Betwixt the sea human being multitude
Were the many different Greek's, and the Grecian Jew's;
This locale was vibrant, a theatre nearby where the soldier's couldst escape from the war, whilst fighting made market new's.
iii.
A poet I was, listening to homer, and the philosopher Plato
Whilst Aristotle read marvelous novel's, whilst Aristophanes gaveth me a laugh; and Hippocrates showed me doctor's notes for the generation's to cometh and pass, Sophocles to giveth fun task.
iv.
Off in the distance was a lass not from around mine Greek land
Her skin a little darker, her eye's **** wick's, ablazed, her sheath Asiatic tan; she hadst no brand, she was not formed by any human creator, her tropical hair, swayed to the Mediterranean.
v.
She was struggling, fighting for her life from the cyclops Polyphemus, I ran quickly to her rescue, pulling out mine xiphos;
She passed out from the trauma, her pupils rolled back timeful
As I woketh her with mine poetic Lip's, giving her life, greek kiss.
©Brandon nagley
©Earl jane nagley dedication
©Lonesome poets poetry
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 4:26 PM UTC
He worships me
As a goddess of health and cleanliness
Hygieia his hygieia
My beloved Hippocrates how are you love me so
And how I love you so
I wish we could be united as moral and goddess but our love is for bidden and we can all unite but in secret
Come to my temple of healing and all of you as I see fit
My beloved physician
Dec 20, 2020
Dec 20, 2020 at 9:28 PM UTC
I love words.
They shape, form,
define, refine, divine
reality.
Nothing’s real until the word exists.
Catullus and his rage and his lust
Disintegrate into dust
But for his words.
His passion lives.
Hippocrates and Jesus
Byron and Einstein
Survive, revive, alive
Because of their words.
Words endure.
What is love if you cannot speak it?
So save your affections….
Instead, give me the words.
And when the emotion is long gone,
I will still have your words.
Even without you.
Words are forever.
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 10:15 AM UTC
People hurt
Perfection is impossible
Efforts are put into both
No such thing as a perfect life
You can wish to be better, perhaps you can
But nobody can be the best
I tried to be the best
I wanted to be the best friend a guy can be
I have failed in this conquest
I placed efforts into Hippocrates Oath:
"First, Do No Harm"
Yet without meaning to I harmed anyway
Not just myself
No, this isn't me, me, me
As it always (usually) is
This is for my mates
And my friends
Difference being the genders involved
Mates are male,
Friends; female
Notice both start with the same letter?
That's me,
Organising things into some such logical order
To prevent falling into complete and utter chaos
It's a fixation of mine,
It just so happens it's also the way my mind works
Which even I, at times, fail to understand
My own mind; a concept, an idea,
One that at times fails itself
One that find self-harm acceptable, even understandable
I am such a hypocrite,
Instead of Hippocrates it's Hypocrites Oath:
"First, believe you won't do harm, believe it's bad,
And then do it anyway".
Some of this makes sense to you, Reader, I assume
Assuming that, of course, you can assume to know
What I assume you assume I'm talking about
Still following?
Okay, then I'm just rambling
Talking for no reason other than that I hate silence
I hate silence almost as much as I hate myself, at times
Silence is empty, like what I feel frequently
A genuine smile is a smile I wish to wear
(Not just to the Formal night I will be attending next year)
But how does one smile
When one has seen the truth of this world?
Cold, calculating and cruel, vicious and relentless
There is more wars then there are words to stop them
Only one world to hold these wars,
That at times words help to start
Not just talking about actual wars, either
Arguments that become full-blown hatred
Pain dosage as high as the painkillers to prevent them,
If not, higher...
I don't know what to think of myself,
Or this world that I live in
I've contemplated suicide on multiple accounts
Too "pussy"to follow through...
But I have never done it, left, that is
I tried many, many, many times
But something... pulls me back
It's friendship. Family. Honour and Loyalty
I cannot leave those precious few I have
Until they themselves are gone
As long as everyone keeps living,
I guess I have to as well
Thank you for reading
If you made it this far...
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC
it's ready to happen
hours count down to launch, but the burners hum already
the structure is taken up
siphons slowly into the bloodstream
the catalyst, the moment
the agonist, the imitator
the perceptual set is set, and it's famished
not even lit, and it's waiting for more-
the stimulant, the ignition
the doctor, the system
like inlets of blood, the freeways carry us to the city
like carcinogens, like poison medication
like aluminum, like exhaust
i too am carried
and when i reach that center
i am deposited, and begin to take effect
while i wait for my own poison to take hold of me
blood within Blood
and
poison in Poison
medication in Medication in MEDICATION
we make sure all of our cancers are medicated
it has happened already
but i am waiting for it to happen again
the freeway now quiets itself in anticipation
a new day to repeat
the city is ready for more
Aug 16, 2019
Aug 16, 2019 at 1:16 PM UTC
I have a RIGHT to be different to be free .
I have a RIGHT to be me.
For me me to be different I'm really just being me
people don't understand that .
people judge me for being me for being myself
what am suppose to do change for them .
the only way I'm changing is if GOD himself
comes and tells me to change.
So for all you bullies and Hippocrates (FUCK OFF)
I"M JUST BEING ME
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 9:56 AM UTC
My life is no life in any light
My heart feels only pain even breathing has weakend my soul.
I look into the eyes of delectation and feel despair
I beg for some jubilation to take my soul and release me from misery
thats all I see and feel is the dispair in my eyes
How can one look unto another in this way and insert nothing but evil and then portray glee for the deminishing of their heart
Double bladed are the Hippocrates that adore admiration.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 2:50 AM UTC
Let's paint with broad brush strokes
from centuries of blood,
ye fair permeable maidens:
Once upon a summer's eve,
menotoxins killed crops and wilted spring flowers.
Pandora's box, opening to such bad reviews,
closed down and fled to a monastery,
where she wrote scarlet letters to family back home.
Vallopes of black holland cloth, intrusive
but necessary little bedfellows fit for a queen.
Don't keep us in suspense,
your fancy royal harness,
guards are posted at either side, hooked & girdled.
Take Communion some other day,
Elizabethan petticoat.
History tells of the strangest restraining order:
Hippocrates threw his two cents into the fountain,
banning bleeders from nearing the wishing well.
Hey, Father of Medicine,
our hallowed moon lures the currents,
driving us all a little mad on some enchanted evening,
not just the lassies.
The foil of every fable
rests in the absurdity of its fate,
so often presumed upon the faint of heart:
A damsel in distress,
who must be saved from herself.
The nonsense of which then seeps into the pores
of reality, rousing fear in certain unmentionables
that just might one day incite anarchy,
tipping our planet over on its side
and away we fly.
Ignorance wears rose-colored glasses.
It's high time he got his eyes checked.
Nov 1, 2019
Nov 1, 2019 at 2:39 PM UTC
Dimas Hippocrates
Our love is pure
Yet misunderstood
I wish people would see you not
Zombie like
But a beautiful and brilliant physician
That I see
As you call me your hygieia
The Greek goddess
Of health
I cannot help but call you my Hippocrates
Even though that is your name
I await you
And your touch
As you lovingly kiss me
My Hippocrates
Your Hygieia
Feb 8, 2021
Feb 8, 2021 at 5:13 PM UTC
Mangele
And many others
Bring the hippocratic oath
Hippocrates Cries with
Sadness
And spits in his grave
In rage.
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 10:01 AM UTC