When I heard that trees grow a new 'ring' for each year they live, I thought, we humans are kind of like that we grow a new layer of skin each year, and after many years we are thick and unwieldy from all of our skin layers.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Skin
This is someone elses story
Someone that I never knew
This is someone elses body
Am I getting through to you
If you peel away the armor is something underneath
If you look below for hidden treasure underneath another layer
Are you hiding underneath the skin
Chorus
If you peel away the skin is there anybody there
If you peel away the skin is there anybody there
If you peel away the armor is it too late to begin
Is there anybody hiding if you peel away the skin
Now a spark has passed between us now
A momentary recognition
Something lost and something gained
And something shared that feels strange
Something cold that will not go away
Theres a heart as cold as ice
In a vault thats made of stone
Over years the walls got higher
Over years the walls have grown
Is there anybody in there in this self inflicted tomb
If you peel away the layers is there someone in this room
If you peel away the skin, if you peel away the skin
This is someone elses story
Someone that I never knew
This is someone elses body
Am I getting through to you
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The ring and finger
the finger seems a little relieved
the pudgy finger can now breathe at ease
it was bound by an unending ring
decayed was the skin beneath.
years have left a paler skin
where the ring held its unending agony
while the fingers have grown
dark, ugly and chubby.
it had seen better days
when they fit more comfortably
when moments were not measured by the watch
or its worth in worthless pennies
so the eternal question is raised
the ring or the finger to blame
why did the finger grow so fat
why has the ring tried not to change?
poem by Kiran Prasad
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If you want 1 year of prosperity, grow grain. If you want 10 years of prosperity, grow trees. If you want 100 years of prosperity, grow people.
If you are planning for one year, grow rice. If you are planning for 20 years grow trees. If you are planning for centuries, grow men.
The Skin Im In
The skin Im in
Its hard to see, I know
This skin Im in
Were never free
Dont you agree?
Yet another age has passed
We all must look away
From the way we are today
We must look away
On every fate
Opening eyes will see
Who does not cry?
This skin Im in
No-one can hide
Hows the world been leaving you?
The future came too late
For the ones who cannot wait
It will come too late
This skin Im in
Down to the bone, our blood
Fit for a king
Its no surprise
Theres no disguise
Maybe all we need is time
To wipe away the tears
We let fall throughout the years
You must hide your tears
Within this skin
Until the end we grow
And as we sing
We have no more to show
Now walk and say nothing
song performed by by Heaven 17
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nature's Rose
As the vast nature
blinds the eye by its beauty
the trees grow taller
the grasses grow greener
The animals grow more peaceful in their natural habitat
But none grow as beautiful as the red rose
As the red rose grows day by day
I walk by it desiring to pick it
Sitting and waiting for the petals to grow more mature
To grow and show off the beauty of the rose
Years go by and the rose is almost grown
This special rose is different from the rest.
Others grow, beautify, and die
While this one grows year after year
The blood of the rose is pure
as it flows up and through the beautiful flower
But the rose has not completed its growth
I run my hand down the body of the beautiful flower
Shedding my blood from the sharp thorns
I grasp the flower and thrust it from the ground
As my blood drips, the blood of the flowers does so too
The red of both mix and mature and fall to the ground dropp after drop
The smell of the flower overtakes the pain
This is Nature's Rose
It's Just Another New Year's Eve
Don't look so sad,
It's not so bad you know.
It's just another night,
That's all it is.
It's not the first,
It's not the worst you know,
We've come through all the rest,
We'll get through this.
We've made mistakes,
But we've made good friends too.
Remember all the nights we spent with them?
And all our plans,
Who says they can't come true?
Tonight's another chance to start again.
It's just another New Year's Eve,
Another night like all the rest.
It's just another New Year's Eve,
Let's make it the best.
It's just another New Year's Eve,
It's just another Auld Lang Syne,
But when we're through this New Year
You'll see, will be
Just fine.
We're not alone, we've got the world you know.
And it won't let us down, just wait and see.
And we'll grow old, but think how wise we'll grow.
There's more you know, it's only New Year's Eve.
It's just another New Year's Eve,
Another night like all the rest.
It's just another New Year's Eve,
Let's make it the best.
It's just another New Year's Eve,
It's just another Auld Lang Syne,
But when we're through this New Year, you'll see, will be
Just fine.
song performed by by Barry Manilow, music by Barry Manilow, lyrics by Marty Panzer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Silence Shall Be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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84
my silence shall be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Primary
The innocence of sleeping children
Dressed in white
And slowly dreaming
Stops all time
Slow my steps and start to blur
So many years have filled my heart
I never thought i'd say those words
The further we go
And older we grow
The more we know ...
The less we show ...
The very first time i saw your face
I thought of a song
And quickly changed the tune
The very first time i touched your skin
I thought of a story
And rushed to reach the end
Too soon
Oh remember
Please
Don't change
So the fall came
Thirteen years
A shiny ring
And how i could forget your name
The air no longer in my throat
Another perfect lie is choked
But it always feels the same
So they close together
Dressed in red and yellow
Innocent forever
Sleeping children in their blue soft rooms
Still dream
The further we go
And older we grow
The more we know ...
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Layers
You must consider that everything is layered
The earth has layers of air, water, soil, rock, fire to its
Core
Molten fire
A fruit has layers of an external cover
Something hard, then soft and a
Sometimes a hollow core
A cake has layers too of sugar coating
Moist cake
And chocolate
End layer
My body has layers of skin
Tissue, flesh, bone
And nerves and
Marrow
The core can be hollow
And the mind
The soul has layers of understanding
Layers and layers of consciousness
To sub consciousness
Ego superego
To a layer
Beyond our grasp
Tips of the tongues
Slippages
Déjà vu
Memory gaps
Did we meet somewhere?
Do I remember you?
These sorts of some things
That happen which we know we can explain yet we can’t
Something somewhere
Could be
What if
Was I there somewhere sometime?
She somehow touches me and I feel it
I don’t really remember when
That smile that you wear was the same smile I saw somewhere
Foggy places, opaque faces, vague bodies hugging us in dreams
Murky rivers bathing us hazy rains lazily sizing Zen in showers
Some windows in some house
Remaining close
My heart is light and it is flying like a little light bird on its first wing
There is always a sense of awe and wonder to everything that I do here
An onion peeling, layer by layer, tear by tear
Here. I am. Here I am becoming unfolding to another beginning
No entries and no exits
Off limits, nothing yet allowed.
Meanwhile I am breathing, smelling something somewhere.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Now That The Year Is Growing Kind Of Old (Envelope Couplet Sestets)
Now that the year is growing kind of old
when the true story of Jesus we are told,
we are living up to a day of giving
while daily we hear joyful birds singing
as when they did that child once behold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
our Christian faith we do at times uphold
while to others we bring some happiness
like messengers of God we try to bless,
sing happy songs on each friendly threshold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
while some live sheltered in a stronghold
in a world of chaos there is tranquillity,
when in God we find some serenity,
in our own lives we act cheerful and bold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
in our lives God’s blessings are manifold,
while merrily bells do jingle and chime,
we tell of loving that goes past all time,
we celebrate Christmas in each household,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
poem by Gert Strydom
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If you want a crop for one year, grow grain; if you want a crop for ten years, grow a tree; if you want a crop for a hundred years, grow men.
We Refugees
I come from a musical place
Where they shoot me for my song
And my brother has been tortured
By my brother in my land.
I come from a beautiful place
Where they hate my shade of skin
They don't like the way I pray
And they ban free poetry.
I come from a beautiful place
Where girls cannot go to school
There you are told what to believe
And even young boys must grow beards.
I come from a great old forest
I think it is now a field
And the people I once knew
Are not there now.
We can all be refugees
Nobody is safe,
All it takes is a mad leader
Or no rain to bring forth food,
We can all be refugees
We can all be told to go,
We can be hated by someone
For being someone.
I come from a beautiful place
Where the valley floods each year
And each year the hurricane tells us
That we must keep moving on.
I come from an ancient place
All my family were born there
And I would like to go there
But I really want to live.
I come from a sunny, sandy place
Where tourists go to darken skin
And dealers like to sell guns there
I just can't tell you what's the price.
I am told I have no country now
I am told I am a lie
I am told that modern history books
May forget my name.
We can all be refugees
Sometimes it only takes a day,
Sometimes it only takes a handshake
Or a paper that is signed.
We all came from refugees
Nobody simply just appeared,
Nobody's here without a struggle,
And why should we live in fear
Of the weather or the troubles?
We all came here from somewhere.
poem by Benjamin Zephaniah
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Changes
Seasons may change, we stay the same.
We always stay the same.
We always stay the same.
Winter brings snow, when no, no flowers grow.
They wait for the spring.
Yes, they wait til the spring.
In the spring, young men grow.
til theyre old enough to know,
Better.
Better.
Leaves have turned green, now spring has been
And gone
Summers here.
The autumn trees swing to and fro.
Their leaves turn brown,
Now young men know
Better.
Better.
[just let me listen to that.]
Evryone one feels good
And I knew they would.
Its been quite a good year.
Its been quite a good year.
Its been quite a good year.
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Island Fever
Island fever
I think Ive got a touch of island fever
I do believe I feel a bit sauteed
This morning I was just some nonbeliever
Tonight I feel Ive joing a wild crusade
I never thought of life as being breezy
I never thought of time as time to play
I never thought that I could take it easy
But all those feelings changed for me today
Layers and layers of spices and flavors
Are finding their way to my brain
Layers and layers of costumes and players
That make my whole life look insane
Palm trees and views I cant believe
Why would I ever want to leave?
I think Ill take my shoes off and go walking
Down beside the caribbean sea.
I like the funny sounds of parrots squawking
I think I hear a hammock calling me.
Layers and layers of spices and flavors
Could this be some kind of charade?
Layers and layers of costumes and players
I think I will join the parade
Layers and layers of spices and flavors
Could this be some kind of charade?
Layers and layers of costumes and players
I think I will join the parade
I think Ive got a touch of island fever...
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Moving Up Scared
Anxiety running through my vines
Like in the colors of a chock rainbow
Being washed off the side walk
A little scared but not enough to show it
I take that big step on my own
You know the step from
I know I'm a little kid to
I'm a big kid now that I'm in Middle School
I slowly walk down the blue carpeted terrifying hall
They made it scary for a reason
Then I met you Breanna
On the first day within the first 10 minutes
Some how you saw right through
My brave little 11 year old mask
The overwhelming lack of security
That was now so present
Making me not think in the right sate of mind
The stories of horror that all those years
My sister has told me and all I can think of
Is complete terror that is invading my body
Walking in those double doors for the first time
Was one of the scariest things I had ever done in my 15 years
I thought I was going to cry
And then did when I heard your voice tell me that
You knew I was scared to go to high school
Just like the first day of sixth grade
And the last day of eighth grade year
You know you always knew
Now it came the year that we were all working for
The year where we see that our teachers
Really do know what they are talking about
Their not crazy old people after all
And we get what their talking about
Some of the pieces of the skeleton of our lives
Start to fall into place
The year where we discover who we
For sure don’t want to be
The year where we think we have it all together
The year where the 4.0 doesn’t matter as much any more
Cause this is the year that you have to figure out where your
Going to live in 6 months after it hits you
Oh no I have to do this year there is no more next year
There is barely a tomorrow
then when you realize that tomarrow is coming too quick
and you dont know how to slow the clock down
you really know that the year has came and you hate to say it
but you have to grow up and be the adult now that
mommy and daddy arnt going to be there picking up the slack
all to soon
The year where you look to your best friend from sixth grade
And you know she is just as scared as you
This time Breanna I knew your scared too
A year to learn to really learn
This year is senior year and here and there it's almost
Scaring me to death
P.S
As a senior teachers always ask me to give advice to underclassmen and my advice is this to have fun join a club and a sport if you can make high school an amazing experience don’t do anything you will regret latter. However most of all try in your classes I’m not saying 4.0 just try, try hard because when your friends, and family are not there for you your education is all you will have.
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Layers And Layers
we meet i only have one layer
we talk and i added another layer
we discuss and i added more layers
we dive to a certain depth and of course
i have to add more and more layers
so i may not drown
so i may not be too vulnerable to pressure
and when we come out of the water
our faces surfacing you do not recognize me anymore
i have layers and layers of myself
that even me
i cannot anymore recognize
the violence within
this turbulence of the self
this storm inside us
this layers and layers of selves
covering the truth
how can i ever uncover
what my depths cover from time to time
when you utter my name?
when you tell me that
i am myself.
there is no self.
There is no us.
There is no future.
I have only the past
and My now
Like a fruit basket
all naked on top of your table.
Just take one
The apple perhaps.
And fill yourself.
For the moment.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Take A Pick For The Moment
we meet i only have one layer
we talk and i added another layer
we discuss and i added more layers
we dive to a certain depth and of course
i have to add more and more layers
so i may not drown
so i may not be too vulnerable to pressure
and when we come out of the water
our faces surfacing you do not recognize me anymore
i have layers and layers of myself
that even me
i cannot anymore recognize
the violence within
this turbulence of the self
this storm inside us
this layers and layers of selves
covering the truth
how can i ever uncover
what my depths cover from time to time
when you utter my name?
when you tell me that
i am myself.
there is no self.
There is no us.
There is no future.
I have only the past
and My now
Like a fruit basket
all fresh on top of your table.
Just take one
The apple perhaps.
And fill yourself.
For the moment.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bat
His awful skin
stretched out by some tradesman
is like my skin, here between my fingers,
a kind of webbing, a kind of frog.
Surely when first born my face was this tiny
and before I was born surely I could fly.
Not well, mind you, only a veil of skin
from my arms to my waist.
I flew at night, too. Not to be seen
for if I were I'd be taken down.
In August perhaps as the trees rose to the stars
I have flown from leaf to leaf in the thick dark.
If you had caught me with your flashlight
you would have seen a pink corpse with wings,
out, out, from her mother's belly, all furry
and hoarse skimming over the houses, the armies.
That's why the dogs of your house sniff me.
They know I'm something to be caught
somewhere in the cemetery hanging upside down
like a misshapen udder.
poem by Anne Sexton
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