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The moss that loves the stone
It is the moss that loves the stone
Most. No matter what or when, the
Moss somehow manages to stay
Even without a why, they say.
But the moss keeps on sticking
To the body of the stone that
Keeps its nonminding stiffness.
It is cold, it is hard, it is unfeeling
At all. It is the moss that keeps its
Love. It sticks with it, rain or shine.
It rolls with it. It stays with it even
In the desert, even it if means its
Own death. It is the moss that sticks
To the stone. It is its true lover.
In the river, the water has ordered
The moss to leave. It ordered the stone
To crush it. The moss cannot be
Removed. It covered the stone.
It is loving it whole.The stone has
Become the moss, and the stone
Is gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Gather Moss And More Of Moss
to gather moss
be a stone
to gather more moss
be a very still stone
be a stone still till the end
of time
you stand still and think
you want to be the moss
rather than a stone
to be all moss
you must betray the stillness
of stone
you must even forget
the importance of
what a moss can be
then you think some more
to be completely this moss
you need to be friendly
to the water and to the river
then you decide to be the water
instead of the moss
to be more than the water
you wish instead to become the river
and so you flow and learn the rush
and become the running river
until what you want really
is just to flow
to rush and run and then
you become nothing
but the motion itself
until you are lost
and then
you become what you are now
lost but real
always flowing, rushing, running
where nobody owns you
not even the river
or the stones or the moss
you have become
this running, this flowing, this being
so real so free
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Life And Death On The Stone In The Pond
on that rainy month
a stone was so kind
enough
to let the green moss
wrap its
solid body
there was
mutual bliss in
their
company
then the drought
comes in months
the river where the stone
lives
dried and
mud turned to
cracked
surfaces
the moss knows
that this happens
every year
dies peacefully
around the solid body
of the stone
like sleep waiting
for the next rain
the stone is
undisturbed
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Reflection 0.2
when you arrive here
there is no stone not a single stone
there is no moss not a single hair of a green moss
then there was the pain of waiting
time is always delaying its coming
trains stopped and cars are having flat tires
but you are faithful you keep on waiting you entertain promises
like dear memories or dreams or wishes that come true somehow
and you waited for so long
now this place is filled with stones and moss grow in each body of the stone
the waters spread their territories and land is emaciated
and the house is covered with water and the roof is gone
and there is nobody here anymore and it is only i who remember you and
i tell them about you and they do not believe me
and i feel like i am a ship that just sunk.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beneath The Moss
Entrenched at the back of my head
The moss got thicker
The moss got greener
And the moss got dense
Now it's a part of my natural landscape
They say it's sad
For the merchant of flowers that i used to be
But I love the way it never changes
Fixed and firm
With some wild flowers and fern
But one day
On its crust
Came across a scar
Deep like the ocean
And clear like the blue sky
Anxiously I peeped in for a while
Looked for some Enterprise
Tried to Entertain
Hoped to Enthrall
And Enthrone
with a hidden Enthuse
But found none
There ain't no valley of flowers down there
But moss
I was back with a disappointment
No longer before I found them all
Lined up alphabetically like slaves
With explanations right next to each other
Enterprise, entertain, enthrall, enthrone, enthuse and so on
On page 330 of The Advanced Learner's Dictionary
Lying beside my bed
I know I'm falsely convinced and morose
But I love the way it grows on its own
Fixed and firm
With some wild flowers and fern
poem by Falky Flakes
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Travel and society polish one, but a rolling stone gathers no moss, and a little moss is a good thing on a man.
quote by John Burroughs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At 4: 25 In The Morning, About True Love
you are curious about true love
and let me tell you about my love for her
twas true, yes it was,
too much moss in the stone
the river wants to
remove all the green in there
sad to say
it failed.
the stone is still strong.
and the moss too green to die.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lyin' To Yourself
You tell me lies that you believe
You say its the real thing
I can see how you've deceived
I know what's happening
And seeing is believing 'til you find out that you're blind
You're Lying To Yourself (Lying To Yourself)
You're Lying To Yourself (Lying To Yourself)
Wake up, shake up, turn around
I'll give it to you straight
It's been too long, it's past a joke
Something I can't take
The cost is due, now tell me money ain't the means [to me it sounds like
"meaning"]
You're Lying To Yourself
(Lying To Yourself)
You're Lying To Yourself
(Lying To Yourself)
Lying To Yourself again, you're Lying to Yourself again
Lying To Yourself again, you're Lying To Yourself again
Lying in the morning
I'll kiss you goodbye
You won't regret a part of this
And neither will I
Revealing hearts with a common need play their hands
You're Lying To Yourself
(Lying To Yourself)
You're Lying To Yourself
(Lying To Yourself)
NOTE: This song is a B-side to the Alpha album single "The Smile Has Left
Your Eyes
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The River Flows
The river flows and moss grows
And I dangle my feet in the water
The water is cold, but so is my heart
As I sit and just watch time goes by
No place I have to go, no place to be
Time has passed too fast, as fast as the river flows
Who else has sat here and felt this way
Felt pain in their heart and soul
They don't understand, did they ever?
All the hurt down deep in my soul
The leaves sway with the wind
And the chill sets in
I know I must leave, I don't know where
Guess I'll find my way down the road
With tears in my eyes and a broken heart
I'll find my way back to somewhere
The river flows on and the moss will keep growing
Till someone else sits here
And remembers things like I do
And wish I had them all back
I leave in the night, goodbye to the river and moss
May each persons who comes this way
Find a peace inside like I did but on the way
I'll always remember that the river flows on and the moss grows.
Written by Jo Carey
Here Comes Life
the rolling stone
sliding past
following us
the rolling stone
now ahead of us
here comes life
and there it is gone
we are still the moss
catching no stone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Stone Sits A Stone
Long oft towards
Where the sun light comes
Under the cover by an old cedar tree
Rest a stone upon a stone
There in a side of a hill
In wavering woods
Waters flow to the valley floor
How you sit
And tended your thoughts
Still, and motionless
Quiet enough to blend with the stone
Listen to the green woods
Beneath the freshing winds
Grows strong sorrow sleeps
Swarms of living life
And passion grows hungry
To the task of lovers lips
poem by Howard Johnson
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The Blues Is Just A Bad Dream
A tree grows in my back yard
It only grows at night
Its branches theyre all twisted
Its leaves are afraid of light
They say the blues is just a bad dream
They say it lives upside your head
But when its lonely in the morning
Youre bound to wish that you was lying dead
Theres winds out on the ocean
Theyre blowing just as they choose
But then winds aint got no emotion, baby
And they dont know the blues
They say the blues is just a bad dream
They say it lives upside your head
But when its lonely, lonely in the morning
Youre bound to wish that you was lying dead
My mind is rambling and rambling
Just like some rolling stone, no
Since that nightmares come to stay with me, baby
My thoughts just dont belong
They say the blues is just a bad dream
They say it lives upside your head
But when they visit you around midnight
Youre bound to wish that you were lying dead
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mark The Concentrated Hazels That Enclose
MARK the concentred hazels that enclose
Yon old grey Stone, protected from the ray
Of noontide suns:--and even the beams that play
And glance, while wantonly the rough wind blows,
Are seldom free to touch the moss that grows
Upon that roof, amid embowering gloom,
The very image framing of a Tomb,
In which some ancient Chieftain finds repose
Among the lonely mountains.--Live, ye trees!
And thou, grey Stone, the pensive likeness keep
Of a dark chamber where the Mighty sleep:
For more than Fancy to the influence bends
When solitary Nature condescends
To mimic Time's forlorn humanities.
poem by William Wordsworth
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Lying To Yourself
You tell me lies that you believe, you say its the real thing
I can see how youve deceived,
I know whats happening
And seeing is believing till you find out that youre blind
Youre lying to yourself, lying to yourself
Youre lying to yourself, lying to yourself
Wake up shake up turn around,
Ill give it to you straight it been too long its past a joke, something I cant take
The cost is due now tell me money aint the means
Youre lying to yourself,lying to yourself
Youre lying to yourself, lying to yourself
Lying to yourself again, youre lying to yourself again
Lying in the morning Ill kiss you goodbye
You wont regret a part of this and neither will i
Revealing hearts with a common need play their hands
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stone
how is it to be a stone?
how is it to be hard
and unfeeling?
how is it to be still
and immobile
rooted in
its place for years
and centuries
not growing
not speaking not listening
to the songs and sighs
of the river?
how is it to be completely
defenseless against
the moss
that invades and
covers
your body
of stone
the coldness
of the rain and
the boredom of the time
in years, in centuries?
how is it to be just being
inanimate
unmoved
untouched and
untouching?
you
you touch no one and nobody touches you
an island
of stone
you
are the stone
the rock
against
the middle
of the raging river
and i am asking all these questions to you.
oh! i am always the foolish one
petrified
facing you all day and getting
no answers
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A rolling stone gathers no moss.
quote by Publilius Syrus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Einstein, Nicholas, My Fantastic Wife And Our Dog On The Beach At Home
a stone
a relative stone
a meteoric stone
a Newtonian stone
a photoelectric stone
a stone from Manhattan
a thermodynamic stone
one stone
a son
in my life
in my wife
a sun
alone
poem by Nicolas Grenier
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A stone that gathers no moss will be washed away by the river.