Best Regards

to whom it may concern
your well-known address
again, with no answer
to my last request
disregard ink spots
my presentation
consider my clear thoughts
my speculations
what a warning
the way you're talking
I'm more than worried
the sky is burning
the clouds are falling
I'm more than sorry
you write me back
blank empty words
you don't write back
acknowledge my statement
a creased white receipt
what a disappointment
was I indiscreet?
perhaps I'm impolite
am I out of place?
have I the right to write
to express my case?
the time is coming
the world is dying
I'm more than worried
the clock is ticking
real action's missing
I'm more than sorry
I stay well-behaved
waiting for the mail
best regards, good world
I stay well-behaved
well into my grave
best regards, good world
===

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Why I Write?

I write poems for myself and I write for the readers
I write for the masses and I write for the leaders
I write to imprint my thoughts in people's mind
I write to make the bad guys helpful and kind
I write to light up our path to Great God
I write for everyone home and abroad
I write to preserve values new and old
I write to make my ink precious like gold
I write for peace and I write for progress
I write to make the world a better place
All major issues I want to address
I write to see smile on God's face

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What I want to write

What I want to write
I could not write.

I could not write
Tiger tiger cat cat
And the difference they behaved.
I could not write
The sky and its fall
On our forehead.

What I want to write
I could not write.

I write how I loved
How flower blosom
How fruit ripe
How stream flow.

I could not know
How I write
And I write
What I want to write
I could not write.

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Tickin Away

The clock above the bar
Is telling me its 12:15
And its not such a gentle reminder
That Im where I shouldnt be
I just keep waiting for something to happen
Waiting for somebody to come walking in
Somebody as perfect as you were
So I can try it again
(but) chances are so hard to come by
And the second one is impossible to find
The clock keep running
And the odds keep getting higher
That its all just a fantasy of mine
But I shouldnt be thinking about it
I shouldnt be worried about it
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its ticking away
I suppose I should cut all my losses
Go home with a six-pack of beer
There aint nobody in the world like you baby
If there was, she wouldnt be coming in here
But I shouldnt be thinking about it
I shouldnt be worried about it
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
Yeah, its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
I suppose I should cut all my losses
Go home with a six-pack of beer

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Bertolt Brecht

Questions

Write me what you're wearing! Is it warm?
Write me how you lie! Do you lie there softly?
Write me how you look! Is it still the same?
Write me what you're missing! Is it my arm?

Write me how you are! Have you been spared?
Write me what they're doing! Do you have enough courage?
Write me what you're doing! Is it good?
Write me, who are you thinking of? Is it me?

Freely, I've given you only my questions.
And I hear the answers, how they fall.
When you're tired, I can't carry it for you.

If you're hungry, I have nothing for you to eat.
And so now I leave the world
No longer there, as if I've forgotten you.

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A Poem To Change The World

I wish I could write a poem that would change the world
A world with barbwire fences
Try to cross and you get stuck
You get pinned and you can’t come back
Ya
If I could just write a poem that would take those barbwire fences down

I wish I could write a poem that would change the world
With spotlights that blind rather than show the way
You have to look away
With spots in your eyes you cannot see
Ya
If I could just write a poem that would turn those spot lights away

I wish I could write a poem that would change the world
Airplanes that get you there if you can pay the fair
If you’re poor, you will work hard but go no where
Those who fly, are they thankful to the sky
Ya
If I could just write a poem that would make this world fair

I wish I could write a poem that would change the world
What is worse is war
And it is over there, where we send our children
There is nothing here but fear
Ya
I wish I could write a poem that make that no more

How much longer will the birds and trees
have to put up with our dirty breeze
All the water in this world
someday none of it will be safe to drink
If I could just write a poem that would clean up this mess

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It...

IT IS everyday
like everything that you do: waking up
washing the face
brushing the teeth
combing the hair
defecating on the
throne
in the comfort room
taking breakfast
reading the news
watching tv
waiting and going
and coming back
on the table
searching for words
to mark your day

above all those
rantings
take the cure: write, write,
write

they follow you and
read and say something
about you

perhaps it will matter
that your existence
is being confirmed
by all

you too stalk as they
stalk you

it is fair then.

They are your ITs
And you are their
It too.

but actually it would have been
a better world

if we did not write at all.
simply because
we have chosen the
right course:

talking.

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Honesty

Honesty
Has no
Place -
In this
World.

When I was
Honest -
With you,
And told you
How much I
Loved you…
You said -
Never to write
Such thoughts
To the one
You love,
But to write
Someplace
Else, for instance,
In a diary.

Now,
I express
My feelings
To the world
And ironically,
You come
Searching
My poems…
Just to see if I
Still love you.

Don't know
Why a man
Takes for
Granted -
The woman
Who loves him.

When he loses her
To the world…
He hopes, she'll
Come back to him.

But times gone by
Never come back,
My friend.
Some love stories
Have a very sad
End.

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Self-talk In That Secret....

at the end
i am about to cry

something bothers me
somehow
i can't

i hold the knob of the
door
tightly
i want to go out from
this old house
and be with you
but i finally loosen
my hold
and go back to the room
of myself

the law speaks
tradition warns that something
may happen
and i cannot take
all the possible
harsh
consequences

and so i give up my life
and meaning
i stay in the comfort of ordinary
days
unhappily

but it is worth it
when i come back i find a house where i
can still live


it is you that makes me live some more
in the blur of our memories
when you are finally gone
with no address t refer to
(you never write me letters)
i stay put on my chair
and immerse myself in the deep silence
of my sad thoughts

it is the case again
of i want to go but i must stay
same rehashed argument

when i ask you if you are happy
your answer is yes and no,

but i understand it perfectly
it is the same answer that i write
in my journal
in those three perfect days

i forgive myself
but i can never forget you

love stays
but time shall always try to vanish it
without
our consent

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Write Me

Aerosmith
Write Me
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
I said, the ways of the night are evil with eyes that love the day,
but I'll never never never never never get so far away.
I said write me, write me, write me.
I said write me, write me, write me.
Well there's nothin' I can see that'd ever make
me want to be without her she's good, she's good to me.
Said there's no way to explain the kind of feeling
that you get out in the rain she's good, she's good to me.
See this emptiness inside it makes me scream
it make me crawl out of my high, she's good, she's good to me.
I love her.
Write me a letter, write me a letter, write it today, I'm goin' away.
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
Well I've been so many places hidin' from the wind and the rain,
But you could write me a letter for to save me from a goin' insane.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Don't write me baby.

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Get In Line

Hey
Mama took everything
See you change and leaving
Come on, come on, baby, yeah
Telling go with you
Man, he dont call back
Im worried, worried
Take him, take my time to go
And I wonder and Im happy well say
Yeah, Im coming
Oh, arent, oh arent you
Yeah, tired
And write you, and write you
Yeah, and leave me Ill turn you away
Like a fool
More happy and sad and again
Im in a hurry, oh
Please dont go away
By the colors out of place
Please dont hurry
Turn you back
Back outside
Yeah, you come
Oh where, oh where
Oh and I tell him, tell him get in line
Oh calling stand again
Watch him, watch him as he smiles
You never can tell its coming
And I dont want to wonder again
Im begging you for a female
Taking, taking all my time
How old and lay asleep
Oh yeah
Im coming
Oh arent, oh arent you
Yeah, Im running for ya too, for ya
Yeah, and scurries
And I mind
I dont I dont
Yeah, leave me back home to my trance
And Im saying it
Oh, baby
Im too worried for my health
And the reasons change
Please dont forget
To turn me back
Like a (? )
Please dont worry
Oh lover yeah
Yeah, I scream and say
Yeah, turning back, turning back
Oh yeah
Come and turn back the screen
And its open
Yeah
Darkness it needs me again
Please dont worry
About the colors round your eyes
Just because
What lies inside the smile
Oh yeah
Lover lie, lover lie
My running, feet too fast
Well I run back and call it an answer
Come on, come on give me time
And I receive
And I dont question why
I say Ill come again
I say Ill come again

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A Poem Written By A Confessed Bipolar (her Name To Be Revealed Upon Her Permission)

I write because I can
I write because there are so many things to be written.
I write because I can make a painting without a brush and paints in my hand.
I write because I can capture the moment without having a camera.
I write because letters and words are the only recipe I know how to cook.
I write because I want to read what I’ve written.
I write because I’m used to speak in silence.
I write because I have a story to tell.
I write because I want to strip off my flesh and live as a pure being.
I write because I can record my “voice” without having a recorder.
I write because it’s like a cup of coffee, it keeps me awake
I write because I want to live even when I do not exist.
I write because this is my throwing stones when I’m frustrated.
6/11/09 at 4: 42 PM
I write because I can flaunt my being when I don’t have clothes to show off.
I write because this is like making an encyclopedia to a coloring book.
I write because it’s more effective than my lithium medication.
I write because I’m tired of carrying these baggages on the road.
I write because I’m tired of talking too much.
I write because it’s a healthier diversion than smoking.
I write because it’s more therapeutic than analyzing my problem.
I write because I want to paint a thousand pictures with words.
I write because I can put colors to the letters and make a rainbow of words.
I write because it’s the key combinations to my hidden vaults.
I write because my ball pen is my best friend in the darkest nights.
I write because it surprises me with what I am capable of thinking&doing. 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because I like that ideas are popping like pop corns.
I write because I can wander in the adventures of my own world.
I write because I have to cleanse my collection of memories of an old home.
I write because like a mirror you need to do a lot of reflections.
I write because I want to fight the battle of life.
I write because I wanted my little voice to be heard.
I write because I want to run from the insanities of the world.
I write because pictures don’t talk.
I write because it helps me connect the dots when I look back in my life.
I write because it brings me back to my crib of silence.
I write because it makes a buzz to other bees in my beehive.
I write because unlike my bike my destination is limitless.
I write because I want to become an inspiration without extinction 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because like strumming of the guitar, it vibrates in my soul.
I write because I love to write.

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Inspiration..

Inspiration comes and goes.
I write it down or I’ll forget while searching for a pen.
Inspiration comes and goes.
I get is from dreams or experiences.
Inspiration comes and goes.
But tell me, what inspires you.

I’m inspired by beauty, love and lust.
Giving me words and thought I dare to trust.
It’s inspiration that separates me from the rest.
‘Cause when inspiration comes words fall into place.
And things are beginning to make sense.

Sometimes I’m inspired by sorrow.
When I’m waiting in my bed for tomorrow.
And words start to become sentences.
I will start to write just to understand.
And to make me feel better so I can go to bed again.

Sometimes I write because of a pain that runs so deep.
I write cryptic lyrics about the secrets I keep.
I express them in other words so no one will understand.
But they feel not knowing what I’m trying to tell.
It’s a just way to clear my conscience.

Sometimes I write how the world could be.
Or I write about the girl of my fantasy.
Then I’m inspired by a fragment of my imagination.
And now I told a few ways where I get my inspiration.
So now tell me what inspires you.

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A Blank Page Blues

I know we have all done it,
sat in front of a pristine white sheet of paper
and got ready to write something down,
and then we are confronted
with the blank page blues.
The words of inspiration
then scurry and hide away.
You are left with pen in hand,
scratching your head
wondering what to say.
There is no cure for this syndrome;
writers get it all the time.
Some call it a writer’s block,
when nothing comes into your head.
You sit in front of a blank page.
You know what you want to write,
then someone disturbs you
and the words disappear out of sight.
How many times have we had that?
We sit down to write our masterpiece
and the telephone rings,
or someone shouts your dinner is getting cold.
You feel like screaming,
but you take it on the chin.
You lay down your pen,
answer the phone or have your dinner,
and when you come back,
the blank page confronts you.
Still you cannot write anything on it.
You stare at it for hours,
until finally you get tired
and journey off to bed.
Hoping and hoping tomorrow
a little peace, it will bring
and your words on that blank page
will really begin to sing.

10 May 2008

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How Do You Write Poetry

There is a question I am often asked,
of which I have no answer for at all.
The question is a simple one,
how do you write poetry?
To be honest I haven’t got a clue.
With me the words just trickle out
one after the other,
if they rhyme that is great
and if they don’t, I just scratch my head.
I cannot tell anyone how to write,
for me it’s just a natural thing.
I write almost everything,
novels, short stories, poems and songs.
I have even written a couple of plays,
but that was a long, long time ago.
However to tell anyone how to write,
I would not know where to begin.
The answer I give to the question is simple;
write whatever you like good or bad.
It’s yours and be proud of it
no matter what anyone else has to say.
The more you write the better you will get.
However, the most important thing
that you should always remember and that is
that you write, write, and write!

9 November 2011

poem by David HarrisReport problemRelated quotes
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Write Me A Letter

Write me a letter
Write me a letter
Write it today
Im goin away (yes it has)
Write me a letter
Write me a letter
Write it today
Im goin away (yes it is)
Well Ive been away forever
Suicides crossin my mind
Well Ill never, never get so far behind
I said, the ways of the night are evil
Without that lord of day
But Ill never, never get so far away
I said write me
Write me
Write me
Write me
I said write me
Write me
Write me
Well theres nothin I can see
Thatd ever make me
Want to be without her
Shes good, she good to me
Said theres no way to explain
The kind of feelin that you get out in the
She good, she good to me
She good, she good to me
I love her
Write me a letter
Write me a letter
Write it today
Im goin away (yes it has)
Write me a letter
Write me a letter
Write it today
Im goin away (yes it is)
Well Ive been away forever
Suicides crossin my mind
Well Ill never, never get so far behind
Well Ive been so many places
Hidin from the wind and the rain
But you could write me a letter
For to save me from goin insane
Write me
Excite me
Write me
Write me
Write me
Write me...

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I Write The Songs

Ive been alive forever,
And I wrote the very first song.
I put the words and the melodies together,
I am music,
And I write the songs.
I write the songs that make the whole world sing.
I write the songs of love and special thing s.
I write the songs that make the young girls cry.
I write the songs, I write the songs.
My home lies deep within you,
And Ive got my own place in your sole.
Now, when I look out through your eyes,
Im youg again, even though Im very old.
Chorus
Oh my music makes you dance
And gives your spirit to take a chance,
And I wrote some rock n roll so you can move.
Music fills your heart,
Well, thats a real fine place to start.
Its from me its for you,
Its from you, its from me,
Its a world wide symphony.
Chorus
I am music, and I write the songs.

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I Write And I Will Always Write

i write not because i want to be famous
fame has its own place to take care of itself

i write not because i want to educate
people educate themselves and most of them are educated enough

with or without me
with or without my poems

i write not because i want to express my feelings
or display all my emotions like some sort of fireworks on the 4th of July

(maybe for quite a time i was that
a man making a ventilation
a fume looking for an opening
a pressure looking for a window
a failure seeking a redemption
a penalty asking for a reprieve
a criminal begging for pardon
a rebel detained and wishing for
pardon...

a ship looking for a destination
an island asking for its own place under the sun
a sigh desperately waiting for the mouth

whatever...

but now i begin to think so deeply
why do i write? and why do i write everyday?

and why poems? why not a novel or a short story?
or an essay on the fate of men
the conflicts within them
the wars that they have to face everyday
their deaths and
resurrections

their erections and negations
the women and their seductions
the world in its glory
history and its memory

i write because i owe my life to poetry
it has saved me from my misfortunes

i write because i want to thank the poems
i write because

i just want to say: thanks,
to express this eternal gratitude
now, that

i am still alive.

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Vow 2 (Right Words)

I've always been able to
now I don't even know what to do
it's never been a problem before
I've always been able to write about it
talk about it, now that it hit me
I'm somewhat speechless
I put pad to pen, nothing
an empty space on a white page
shouldn't this just write itself?
not a word or a single letter
I know it hit me, I feel it
it hurts yet I like it,
I smile at the sight of it
I've spent days and still on a blank page
it's stupid to say, but I give up
a pen is in rage to silence
to express this, these feelings
no words could describe
nor will I try
the only thing I can say for certain
that it is real, I Love you
this I vow.

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I write from a world

I write from a world
~
I write from a world
Of thought and feeling
A world of observation
There to be picked at
There to be used as need be
Whenever or however
It suits me to do so
I write to stave off madness
To save my tongue
From speaking ill words
I write in metaphor
To disguise such things
I am not freely open to discuss
Things better left unsaid
But which stew in the mind
And need to be let out
Other things I write in celebration
To share my joy with all
And all in this world
Shall read or hear that written
From a world of thought
Of feeling and observation

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Today's Blank Wall

just this day
i face a blank wall

it is enticing
its white hand is signaling me to write my thoughts on it

it is empty and wants to be full
just like myself perhaps who knows

i will disappoint it in the same manner that you have
disappointed me

i will not go near it
i will not say a word

i will not write anything
but i will tell it

'you are beautiful'

untouched, unwritten
pure, blank, mute....

poem by Ric S. BastasaReport problemRelated quotes
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