"oncology" poems - Hello Poetry

We, the voice of the most oppressed, Work in the profession remaining the most humble, Throughout histories, as slaves our lives still remain tumble, With our strangled necks, we are deliberately suppressed For the centuries, our voices remain unheard, Like a weeping fish at the sea, We are treated zombies at the rush of a blood, Collecting by hand, the human society’s poops & pea Things for us got intensely worse, We work as a group with an isolated curse, For our livelihood, go into manholes as bare-bodies Mostly get out as dead-bodies From pathology to oncology, We are treated untouchables, even by the modern technology We are the oxygen-offering trees that remain green Hurting ourselves, collecting excreta making this world neat &clean With our hand-cuffs we shout and fight, Rulers remain drunken-deafs to our plight, Hell with your knowledge, to those who go to college And keep pushing us to the drainage, We remain living dead and frustrated, to get our right When asked about work, we remain dumb and blind, Fearing the responses to our ***** revelations, Because humans are unemphathetic and unkind To get our life some elevations. Our mind said us “Please think! Please Think!” When we revolt not to work, societies stink, We warn, Witness your locality ***** To our sufferings, if you keep blank & empty. We are a collective voice, Representing inhuman humanity, That keeps the society on a poise, So raise your voice, with a clarity of choice To get us work with the utmost dignity!

0

Sep 24, 2018

Sep 24, 2018 at 9:12 AM UTC

L16081995

A Deadly cry of a manual scavenger

We, the voice of the most oppressed, Work in the profession remaining the most humble, Throughout histories, as slaves our lives still remain tumble, With our strangled necks, we are deliberately suppressed For the centuries, our voices remain unheard, Like a weeping fish at the sea, We are treated zombies at the rush of a blood, Collecting by hand, the human society’s poops & pea Things for us got intensely worse, We work as a group with an isolated curse, For our livelihood, go into manholes as bare-bodies Mostly get out as dead-bodies From pathology to oncology, We are treated untouchables, even by the modern technology We are the oxygen-offering trees that remain green Hurting ourselves, collecting excreta making this world neat &clean With our hand-cuffs we shout and fight, Rulers remain drunken-deafs to our plight, Hell with your knowledge, to those who go to college And keep pushing us to the drainage, We remain living dead and frustrated, to get our right When asked about work, we remain dumb and blind, Fearing the responses to our ***** revelations, Because humans are unemphathetic and unkind To get our life some elevations. Our mind said us “Please think! Please Think!” When we revolt not to work, societies stink, We warn, Witness your locality ***** To our sufferings, if you keep blank & empty. We are a collective voice, Representing inhuman humanity, That keeps the society on a poise, So raise your voice, with a clarity of choice To get us work with the utmost dignity!

34

1 would like to say a thankyou to oncology for your love and care that you gave to me thanks to all the staff for your loving way in my memory my time with you will stay so a great big thankyou and the memory and the love and care that you gave to me all my love Jane

0

Oct 10, 2022

Oct 10, 2022 at 12:21 PM UTC

william-worthless-1

thankyou verse

1 would like to say a thankyou to oncology for your love and care that you gave to me thanks to all the staff for your loving way in my memory my time with you will stay so a great big thankyou and the memory and the love and care that you gave to me all my love Jane

7

she passed me daily by the door, saying hi only when our eyes collided they were sad eyes and swollen, unable to hide the pain inside of malignant terror cells of failed chemo and kidneys and marriage... 'mama's' eyes were wide open when she died among friends on a hospital bed in oncology... ...yesterday ~ P (8/3/2013)

0

Aug 3, 2013

Aug 3, 2013 at 7:58 PM UTC

james-g-paul-sr-aka-pablo

For 'mama' ....

she passed me daily by the door, saying hi only when our eyes collided they were sad eyes and swollen, unable to hide the pain inside of malignant terror cells of failed chemo and kidneys and marriage... 'mama's' eyes were wide open when she died among friends on a hospital bed in oncology... ...yesterday ~ P (8/3/2013)

21

i always aimed at returning Nietzsche's ping-pong serve of poet-philosopher, as philosopher-poet... well, you know, any vanity project will do these days, given our current celebrity culture... there's nothing celebratory about it, so my little festivity of hope in establishing a self-style vocabulary might be too much for Gucci... but you got to try and whiff up a tornado of absinthe sweeties in licorice black (lee ko reesh). there's only one argument i cling on to, it is theological, i'm biased toward the theological argument always, because i've seen the ontological argument become desecrated by oncology - every theologian argues the same: there's a god, because, to be frank, whatever ontology provides us, it leaves us more bewildered than anything: how we expressed our freedom will never be compensated in terms of how others expressed theirs... so even Kant said: my ontology is based on god... so his contemporaries said: my theology is based on no god... which is why Kant professed a theology without an ontology, and his contemporaries professed an ontology without a theology - or as the other, in existentialist terms might have suggested: timing - but no one desires a godly status, so even his promenade timing made affinities with serfs begging for a watch rather than watching their shadows dwarf at noon... this is called translating rhyme into philosophy, or philosophical rhyming... words of close proximity are prime exponents, given the spelling, i.e. the suffix - but which are totally antonymous - they look so alike, but then thinking provides disparity of intention, not so lazily done with red and dead... head and Pb... is it?

0

Sep 11, 2016

Sep 11, 2016 at 10:47 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

rhyming in philosopy

i always aimed at returning Nietzsche's ping-pong serve of poet-philosopher, as philosopher-poet... well, you know, any vanity project will do these days, given our current celebrity culture... there's nothing celebratory about it, so my little festivity of hope in establishing a self-style vocabulary might be too much for Gucci... but you got to try and whiff up a tornado of absinthe sweeties in licorice black (lee ko reesh). there's only one argument i cling on to, it is theological, i'm biased toward the theological argument always, because i've seen the ontological argument become desecrated by oncology - every theologian argues the same: there's a god, because, to be frank, whatever ontology provides us, it leaves us more bewildered than anything: how we expressed our freedom will never be compensated in terms of how others expressed theirs... so even Kant said: my ontology is based on god... so his contemporaries said: my theology is based on no god... which is why Kant professed a theology without an ontology, and his contemporaries professed an ontology without a theology - or as the other, in existentialist terms might have suggested: timing - but no one desires a godly status, so even his promenade timing made affinities with serfs begging for a watch rather than watching their shadows dwarf at noon... this is called translating rhyme into philosophy, or philosophical rhyming... words of close proximity are prime exponents, given the spelling, i.e. the suffix - but which are totally antonymous - they look so alike, but then thinking provides disparity of intention, not so lazily done with red and dead... head and Pb... is it?

35

Sincerely written words about death, are hilarious. Primarily because of the irony in it- Being sincere about death means to accept it? and if we did that, Funeral homes would be out of business. and Oncology would be a much happier field to work in. My point is, heroism is just fatalism with extra steps. Either way it doesn't matter the outcome. As it will be whatever it is, regardless. (ironically) And this is all to say nothing about the gun to my head, and the trigger pull workout I have to do, Doing mental hurdles and jumping jacks to not give in.

0

Apr 4, 2021

Apr 4, 2021 at 4:52 AM UTC

Bobs_6thsense

A Mental Cross Country meet

Sincerely written words about death, are hilarious. Primarily because of the irony in it- Being sincere about death means to accept it? and if we did that, Funeral homes would be out of business. and Oncology would be a much happier field to work in. My point is, heroism is just fatalism with extra steps. Either way it doesn't matter the outcome. As it will be whatever it is, regardless. (ironically) And this is all to say nothing about the gun to my head, and the trigger pull workout I have to do, Doing mental hurdles and jumping jacks to not give in.

14