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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=493048" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Social Studies</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">i</div><div style="margin:10px 0">a mother taking care of <br>a son who just had a nervous breakdown<br>there is no way<br>for a mental asylum</div><div style="margin:10px 0">ii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">there is this woman who writes poems<br>translates them from bisayan to english<br>making the poems<br>the little burdens of grammar school</div><div style="margin:10px 0">iii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">there are siblings who quarrel all the days of their life<br>forgetting the color of their blood<br>too near and so too far<br>cutting navels, making fences, choking necks</div><div style="margin:10px 0">iv</div><div style="margin:10px 0">how did we end? we started with some social sketches<br>defining what social studies is all about<br>sweet nothings, and trivial matters<br>bridging gaps, comparing black and white<br>and dreaming of rainbows</div><div style="margin:10px 0">v</div><div style="margin:10px 0">no lust. a friendly chat. something platonic.<br>a brother to a sister. birds hiding some wings.<br>oral intercourse. <br>social studies. a little poetry. a human craving.<br>empty. full. empty. lull. wanting to go.<br>but staying still. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">vi</div><div style="margin:10px 0">oh my, i tell myself finally as we say goodbye<br>i still have work to do. something legal piles up.<br>an issue on international law. some circular reasoning<br>begging the questions. i lied.<br>in fact, i am still here.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">vii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">back to poetry. some metaphors are popping out<br>the ceiling speaks. a lizard shows its tongue. <br>speaking. come, come, catch me, i am a meta4, <br>this is absurd. the ceiling sings.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">viii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">8. this is the number that climbs up.<br>complete and round and round like two moons<br>up and above. over each other.<br>a monkey. a cat without ears and a hidden tail.<br>free thoughts. use the period. breathers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">ix</div><div style="margin:10px 0">nine lives. do i get nine lives after twelve years<br>of writing poems? no it is not just twelve.<br>i am 49, and i will turn fifty, on the nth poem.<br>jalousie songs. palm trees opening leaves.<br>roots i hear roots ripping my robes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">x</div><div style="margin:10px 0">this will be the last. ten. put an o. and you know what i mean.<br>the white people do not understand the power of (o) ten.<br>they do not speak the brown language. Or the black one. <br>stiff and hard and long. nothing lousy. or lusty. just clean fun.<br>a play with words. what can words do? did you say you cry? <br>this is the last. and you know very well. i have to go. i made <br>promises. i have Frost. And Neruda too. and yes, what about<br>myke O? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">social studies. nothing about the P.... I'm finished.</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=493048" data-title="Social Studies de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="i

a mother taking care of 
a son who just had a nervous breakdown
there is no way
for a mental asylum

ii

there is this woman who writes poems
translates them from bisayan to english
making the poems
the little burdens of grammar school

iii

th..."></div>
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