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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=487841" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Five Quibblings....</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">i</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i have to write this matter in a rush<br>it is seven twenty two in the morning, <br>it is a bright day like a<br>sunny side up fried egg, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and i haven't had breakfast yet<br>it is not a holiday for me<br>i don't smile, there is no cheering up<br>pocketed smile, restrained yet trembling hands, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">there is work in the office this whole day<br>busy, busy, busy, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">i am on trial, (what i mean is i conduct trials, <br>slip of the tongue thing, eh) <br>and tonight i have to teach criminal law<br>at the law school<br>with more gaping mouths to feed<br>knowledge, skill, the capacity to evade the law<br>later after mastery, <br>that is it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">ii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i remember the star apple tree at the center of the school<br>it is shedding off its leaves and one car got hit<br>by its rotting falling branch: by mere pull of gravity<br>it has no life force at all to resist<br>a fall, <br>there is no desistance here, everything is accepted, <br>like this freedom too to destroy oneself<br>or another<br>negligent being, creature, thing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>iii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the place is muddy and the waters rise<br>and there is flood everywhere<br>and what appears before me is a lake<br>less the swans, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">iv</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the grasses here die of so much water and<br>there is no electricity, it follows, it is logical to expect some<br>short circuits during floods, and the storms<br>necessarily, strong winds, destroyed electrical poles, <br>fire, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">the rooms are dark and the students are<br>leaving<br>i am as usual left alone with some questions<br>to be back home or have<br>a drink somewhere else where there is not<br>much crowd to know me and my<br>usual quibbling about<br>loneliness....i am not joking.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">v</div><div style="margin:10px 0">meanwhile, time runs that fast, like a bullet train, <br>i fall short of time, but here i am rushing to the<br>last word of this<br>poem.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">if you agree.i think, it is none of my business.<br>i agree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=487841" data-title="Five Quibblings.... de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="i

i have to write this matter in a rush
it is seven twenty two in the morning, 
it is a bright day like a
sunny side up fried egg, 

and i haven't had breakfast yet
it is not a holiday for me
i don't smile, there is no cheering up
pocketed smile,..."></div>
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