Jails are always closed yet full, while temples are always open yet empty.
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The jail is closed day and night and always full; temples are always open and still empty.
Heart, Body And Soul
Minds empty,
souls free,
hearts open,
memories.
Free as a bird,
free as can be,
my soul escapes my empty body.
The mind is now gone,
nothing remains except my memories of a dark nights wake.
An open heart,
an open wound,
forever in need of sympathy.
Memories of a time long ago,
memories have yet to go.
My mind is full,
my soul contained,
my heart is closed for eternity
poem by Andrew Hackett
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Adage 3
'A good meal ought to begin with hunger.'
French Proverb
one who is full
shall never be full
because he is
to be full
one must be empty again
to be a wall
one must start being a window
blink
and then open your eyes
and then close
each eye
slowly
this is the ritual of days and nights
shuttered existence
close
open
close
open
cl ose
open
fragile tiny hands of a new born baby
beside
the sleeping mother.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Like that
Was it being empty of everything
or being full of everything,
when the song came during washing-up?
Was it being empty of everything
or being full of everything,
when the tourist outside the school door
glanced as if expecting nothing but the good?
Was it being empty of everything
or being full of everything,
when there was nowhere else but here?
Was it being empty of everything
or being full of everything
when there was no when or where
or why or what or how or who?
Who is to say? It was like that. Like that.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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What Could Have Been Unreal
there is a sorrow that i do not want to speak
it is something that i cannot give away
there is time that keeps on going and if i stay
i will just be left out and buried in this delay
there is a grief that cannot really be spoken
there is this pain that goes on and one
there are empty parks and empty cafes
there are closed doors and locked rooms
there is this self sometimes that does not open
there are fingers that remain closed upon themselves
there is a song that i can only sing inside myself
there is this poem that keeps on evading what is it that could have been said
all these are mine alone and all these keep me moving on
remembering, loving in silence, keeping the tears frozen, creating what could have been unreal.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sometimes When I Have Nothing To Say
sometimes when i have nothing to say
like the silence of the closed window
or the nights on the grass
or the twinkle of the stars... i feel so full
and when i get so full, i feel like
vomiting my existence,
i am nauseous to this hiding, sometimes
i want to say it all, and then i become so empty
and when empty i float, i feel like i am nothing but air,
and then i surrender again
to the walls.... talking and talking to the walls
and i do not really care about the rumors that they have ears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Gah, Sleep
On zombie-pilot
Eyes barely open
Or closed
Temples will burst
Chunks of brain
Splat on the walls
Unicorn blood here
Rainbow flesh there
Candy vomit everywhere
poem by Janine Alyssa Navarro
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Jails For Profit
If the Americans can have jails for profit, why can't we?
Is there any way we could get our politicians to agree?
Because it is extremely expensive to keep a man in jail,
And there must be a cheaper way to do it in great detail.
Why do we call them correctional facilities instead of jails
Is it our early release system, the good food or our easy bails?
Is there something we need to know to improve our organization?
The huge expense, the overcrowding without an explanation.
Why is this subject so shunned by our comfortable politicians?
Unfortunately we have Trudeau’s Charter and soft conditions,
Without referendums or recall so nothing will be done,
Can’t have jails for profit and no questions please, so they won.
Dec 20th,2010
poem by James Bredin
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Closed Door
sometimes we want to enter
a door
a closed door that does not open
no matter how hard we
knock
we try being courteous and gentle
and so patient
eating every waiting time
like we are the most foolish of all fools
knocking a closed door
seducing it more often with our
pleadings
begging and even compromising
for a dance
to convince the owner of the door to
open it
but no one hears, no one cares to listen
to our pleadings,
no one likes the dance of compromises
the door is still closed
and then the last crooked thing happens
we take the axe
and break the door which is closed
forcing it open
only to find that all the people there are dead
there is nothing inside
but mystery and
grief
an unsolved crime, no more
no less.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Welcome Home
I go outside to find the middle of nowhere
Everyone needs their own empty stage
Just like the sky with no beginning or ending
I like reading a book without a last page
Stop and turn around
And say it with your eyes closed
You don't need to welcome me home
Stop, turn around
Try looking with your eyes wide open
As we live our lives through a series of glances
And you smile without smiling for a whole another year
I think we need a little bit more understanding
I think the future is already here
So I won't ask you to
Stop and turn around
And say it with your eyes closed
You don't need to welcome me home
Stop, turn around
Try looking with your eyes wide open
Welcome home
Welcome home
song performed by by Idlewild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To visit templesTo visit temples
I visit temples and conduct rites
More to please the priest than the deities.
I visit temples and do sacrifices
More to bribe the God than cleanse myself.
I visit temples and do worships
More to fake being pious than be so.
I visit temples and give offerings
To make clean myself of sins for fresh ones.
18.01.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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At Kansas City, Kansas, before the saloons were closed, they were getting ready to build an addition to the jail. Now the doors swing idly on the hinges and there is nobody to lock in the jails.
quote by Billy Sunday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Echo
The echo is silence:
in the landscape with tree
in the center of the hill
in the empty plate
in the full pocket
full of emptiness.
poem by Liliana Mainardi from Surco abierto (Open Furrow) (November 2015), translated by Dan Costinaş
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Behind Closed Doors
Written by new order
There is a secret place
Underneath a tree
Where if you go and haste
You will find a key
The key will open doors
And you will look inside
The things that you will see
Will open up your eyes
At any given time
On every other street
The city comes to life
Though everyones asleep
A man beats up his wife
He doesnt wanna keep
Behind closed doors
Theyre in retreat
I dont know what makes me stay
The city life just aint the same
Theres something wrong with kids today
I blame the parents anyway
Theres no hope
No one to trust
I cant cope
Its obvious
Please dont take my drugs away
Im gonna give them up someday
There is a place somewhere
That I could call a home
Id live without a care
Id never be alone
One day I will get there
I feel it in my bones
I check upon the scores
I listen to the coors
Behind closed doors
Behind closed doors
Behind closed doors
Behind closed doors
They still want more
Behind closed doors
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life...
it is just stepping out of the door
then it is closed
and you are left alone
in the open
yes, there is a beautiful garden
a sea full of sun
there is air
grasses....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Red Rose, Black Stone
As we kissed and you closed your eyes
I heard you whisper this is not goodbye;
please don’t grieve, I’m now free from pain,
and in another life we’ll be as one again.
I’ve placed this red rose on your marble stone,
it leaves me full of tears and I feel so alone.
It should have been me lying there in your grave,
you were my inspiration, so full of life and brave.
We both knew that you were much stronger than I,
it’s so unfair that you were the one to die.
Your hunger for life grew with every passing day,
but then you became ill and faded away.
Now you have gone and I remain here,
full of anguish, and selfish tears.
My reason for living has been taken away
and without you I’m lost in an empty day
poem by Orlando Belo
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Residivism
Is the jail a retreat
for the hired hooligans
to escape from revenge
and revive their trade later?
The goons rib about
while warning the weak men,
'Just six months.Royal food
with mutton and boiled peas
for cutting your throat'
The jail is a restroom for them.
If you want resurgence
of all kinds of crimes,
let the jails be renovated
into five-star hotels.
Or else wear them down
in farms and industries
for ten hours and see
if they are residivists again.
The religious extremists
can't be restrained
by putting them behind the bars
for even two decades,
supplying them with drugs,
phones, briyani and cigars
which are usually gifted
to the smugglers and robbers
for them the jails are resorts.
Make the criminals
sweat in the hot Sun,
extracting productive work.
They will not turn to
jails again in the coming years.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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My Mind Is An Oyster
The heart, can only be as open as the mind.
The mind, the creator of my world.
Not the world, but my world.
The mind, building walls.
Walls of fear, resentment and bitterness.
The spirit is trapped.
Bouncing from heart to mind.
Like a ping pong ball.
For it is my mind that is closed.
I listened to the teachings of other closed minded teachers.
They speak of a peace, they do not have.
The preach of a love, that they still seek.
The world is my oyster.
My mind is an oyster.
To find the pearl, the shell must first open up.
It is once the mind opens, I can connect to the source.
The source that tells me I am the true treasure.
I see so many closed shells.
For their pearl is as brilliant as mine.
But through the closed shell it cannot be seen.
They do not know they are just as rich as I.
So they try to take mine, because their shell is too difficult to open.
My shell is open.
I do not want your treasure for myself,
I have my own.
I am content.
I want your shell to open,
I want you and the world to see the brilliance of yours.
For it is when the mind opens,
Your true life will begin.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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My Diary (Demo Recording)
I looked in my diary, no spaces today,
A life so eventful, stacked with appointments too important to break,
Lunch at the bistro, tea at the savoy cafe,
No time to contemplate the isolation,
No second can be wasted, no space to think because,
My diary is full but my life is empty.
Oh yes, my diary is full but my life is empty.
Its all so contemporary, the sheer pretension of it,
Its all so temporary, but all so shallow really,
Let me look, I might be able to squeeze you in between,
No, my diary is so full I couldnt possibly meet you today,
This evening is blocked out with potential investors in my lonely one-man play,
Perhaps next week maybe when there are fewer functions to attend,
So for now Ill pencil you in,
Between the visit to my doctor, my appointment at the bank,
This time its really crucial, thats why its written in red,
My diary is my life and my life is standing on my head,
Oh my diary is full but my life is empty,
Oh yes my diary is full but my life...
I look at your picture on my bedroom wall,
Im trying to forget you, thats why my diary is so full,
Chock-a-block with engagements but its only for show,
cause Im all dressed up with nowhere to go,
To stop my isolation, keep myself occupied,
My diary is my one salvation,
Names, dates, numbers, but inside I long to cancel all those entries,
My diary is full but my lifes empty,
My diary is full but my life is empty.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Diary
I looked in my diary, no spaces today,
A life so eventful, stacked with appointments too important to break,
Lunch at the bistro, tea at the savoy cafe,
No time to contemplate the isolation,
No second can be wasted, no space to think because,
My diary is full but my life is empty.
Oh yes, my diary is full but my life is empty.
Its all so contemporary, the sheer pretension of it,
Its all so temporary, but all so shallow really,
Let me look, I might be able to squeeze you in between,
No, my diary is so full I couldnt possibly meet you today,
This evening is blocked out with potential investors in my lonely one-man play,
Perhaps next week maybe when there are fewer functions to attend,
So for now Ill pencil you in,
Between the visit to my doctor, my appointment at the bank,
This time its really crucial, thats why its written in red,
My diary is my life and my life is standing on my head,
Oh my diary is full but my life is empty,
Oh yes my diary is full but my life...
I look at your picture on my bedroom wall,
Im trying to forget you, thats why my diary is so full,
Chock-a-block with engagements but its only for show,
cause Im all dressed up with nowhere to go,
To stop my isolation, keep myself occupied,
My diary is my one salvation,
Names, dates, numbers, but inside I long to cancel all those entries,
My diary is full but my lifes empty,
My diary is full but my life is empty.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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