As Usual
The sun was shining…
The breeze was blowing
As usual
The day was dawning
The dusk was falling…
As usual
The people were brisking
The people were frisking
As usual
You died.
My heart was grieving.
It was Durga Puja.
They were celebrating
As usual
(Dedicated to Steve Jobs. I miss him…)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Related quotes
Not So Usual
This is the most unusual story, of a most unusual girl
she's the paint in my picture, of a most unusual world
she can crawl out the frame while shes hanging on the wall
and shes calling my name
shes not so usual, wo
shes most unusual
shes not so usual
shes so unusual
shes mostly a ghost, the way she watches over me
she complains when I smoke, but then you do the same to me
shes controlling my brain activity, knowing when i go to sleep
she'll catch you when I'm falling hard
shes so unusual
shes not so usual
shes not so usual
shes so unusual
shes not so hooked on the drugs like I thought that she was
and never sucking on the lime, and hardly sipping on the wine
and dispite of her bipolar rollercoastering
I think I can trust, she'll keep me singing differently
and its fine cause shes with me now, most all of the time
trying to saving my life, thinking none of her own
and always kissing me goodnight when i just need to be alone
shes so sweet, so discrete, shes exactly what I need
not even make believe
shes not so usual
so unusual
shes not so usual
so unusual
not so usual, and not to practical either
but shes not so mystical, but not to magical either
but shes not so outta control, and not so used to the flow
shes not so usual
nah, shes a natural
ohhh, shes not so usual
shes most unusual
shes so unusual
shes so unusual
shes gonna use me ohhh
shes not so u...
shes not so u...
not so u...
not so....
song performed by by Jason Mraz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Unusual (Live @ Java Joes - 06.27.02)
This is the most unusual story, of a most unusual girl
she stood painting my picture, of a most unusual world
she can crawl out of frame while shes hanging on the wall
and shes calling my name
shes not so usual
shes most unusual
shes not so usual
shes so unusual
shes mostly a ghost, the way she watches over me
she complains when i smoke, but then you do the same to me
shes controlling my brain activity, knowing when i go to sleep
she'll catch you when I'm falling hard
shes so unusual
shes not so usual
shes not so usual
shes so unusual
shes not so hooked on the drugs like i thought she was
and never sucking on the lime, and hardly sipping on the wine
and dispite of her biopolar rollercoastering
i think i can try, she'll keep me singing differently
and its fine cause shes with me now, most all of the time
trying to saving the light, thinking not of her own
and always kissing me goodnight when i just need to be alone
shes so sweet, so discrete, shes exactly what i need
not even make believe
shes not so usual
so unusual
shes not so usual
so unusual
not so usual, and not to practical either
but shes not so mystical, but not to magical either
but shes not so outta control, and not so used to the flow
shes not so usual
nah, shes a natural
ohhh, shes not so usual
shes most unusual
shes so unusual
shes so unusual
shes gonna use me ohhh
shes not so u...
shes not so u...
not so u...
not so....
song performed by by Jason Mraz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fighting With Usual Ones
Usual cravings, as usual,
Come to me in plural.
For not enough defense,
For over offensive bad,
Shall I lose this pretty math?
Nothing I hate more than usual ones.
Like November that needs only December
To end one year,
Shall I give up my intense desire?
Together with usual theory,
To get the pass-mark solitary,
Should I sit this exam blowzy?
If there were a right map of life,
I would avoid those with unusual might.
But now, by riding a horse neither male nor female,
Shall I keep acting as a character stray?
I don't wanna be a king in usual custom paragon.
I don't wanna ascend already used throne.
If your heart is not new,
If your love is blue,
You will fail my interview.
Let my loner life live along
Instead of being in usual crowd.
My heart wishes unusual heartbeat sound.
poem by Aung Si Myanmar
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As Usual
Nothing happens
After so much change
Nothing happens
After this that budget
People as usual
died in hunger
Train as usual derailed
Accident occurred
Nothing occurred
Nothing happens
After so much drama
After so much concord.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Into Another Reality
after the usual lengthy
lecture in the university
the usual hour after
something like 8: 45
on such usual evenings
i take the usual drive
from the city to my
urban homesomething like
fifteen kilometers alone
but this
time it will be different
i'll have the loud sounds
of some Queen songs on the DVD
and I'll join singing with them like
I'm going slightly mad
I was born to love you &
I wanna break free
and to All Fat Bottomed Girls
this is your Good Old-fashioned Lover Boy
Let's Get Down Make Love
Headlong
Heaven to Everyone
In the Lap of the Gods...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Not Here With Us But Somewhere Else
it will be different
it is not the usual cup of tea
not the ordinary
day on the platter of the
sea
not the usual fish that you
catch
and serve on the table
on the usual olive oil
and baked
procedure
you see this is experimental
and people's ears need
not listen
nothing to tear nothing to fear
there is nothing that
you detached yourself from
yourself or
another
cool, keep going, do not stay,
there are still
unexplored islands
violet sands, red seas
buried treasures
somewhere else, yes always somewhere else
it is not here
with us, it is always somewhere else
that on nights
when we are dying and too lonely
we know
this is not our place, but somewhere else
a note from a violin string
a leaf blown by the wind
somewhere else, yes somewhere else.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Suspicion Is Contageous
Scene 1.
When I feel warm in the middle of the night,
I suspect that electricity is cut off as usual
When I bite a pebble while eating rice,
I suspect that it is adulterated as usual.
When I am denied a seat to the university,
I suspect that I am less eligible than others, as usual.
When I am left to fend on my own with family and friend's support,
I suspect that my country is as useless as I, as usual.
Scene 2.
When I come out with my sling bag and laptop,
I am suspicious of everyone who looks at me.
When I walk to the tube and sit there comfortably,
I close my eyes tightly to avoid the suspicious eyes.
When I enter the workplace and talk to my colleagues,
who are as suspicious as I, exchange the suspicious greetings.
Wherever I go, I see the people who are suspicious of others,
cameras to catch the suspicious looking characters,
unattended bags are removed within half an hour,
for the fear of suspicious people planting bombs,
in some other places literally no rubbish bins,
and I am allowed to throw wherever I like,
and people are watching me always as a suspect,
and that makes me to be suspicious of them too.
When I come out with my sling bag,
I am suspicious of everyone who looka at me.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Happy New Year 2011
Let it not be another new year
With the same usual celebrations
With the same usual great wishes
With the same usual demonstrations
Of happiness and gay
Instead of the New Year showering you joy
You shower it
With a vouch to
Keep yourself happy
Keep yourself healthy
Keep yourself enthusiastic
Keep yourself at peace
Keep yourself cheerful
Keep yourself loveable
Keep yourself simple and least complicated
Keep yourself non-complaining
Keep yourself ever in a ‘growth’ path
And
Keep yourself all that
Which will pave way
For a really lived-life
For years and decades ahead
With you at the centre
And the entire universe around you
Watching with wonder and
Cheering you
At each of your earnest effort
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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It Is 4: 45 In The Afternoon
we know what to do.
we stop this stuff
we all go back to our beginnings
those usual nights
and those usual tomorrow mornings
ask if we make a difference.
my answer: No.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Open Pages
there is no use hiding
the book of my life
i leave all the pages open
for you to read
and perhaps learn
from who i am and
what i have become
from those usual regrets
that always come late
as usual....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Canción del Mariachi
the usual stars
and guitar under the
open sky
the usual dance
and clapping of the hands
affairs of the heart
forgetting everything
the stars, the moon
man woman and the
child to come
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Taking A Bath
last night stains
of pretensions now gone
soap and water
on an early morning bath
less the whistle
just the pressure and then
anew you come out
of the bathroom
the usual day the usual
activity: always hoping
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Something To My Dear Friend (Triolet)
Let your eyes be as usual wild
It only reflects honesty
Do not turn your voice more mild
Let your eyes be as usual wild
It just proves you are still a child
Once in a while little bit naughty
Let your eyes be as usual wild
It only reflects honesty
poem by Jyoti Sunit Chaudhary
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When I slept it was literally in the midst of an arsenal. If I heard dogs bark more fiercely than usual, or the feet of horses in a greater volume of sound than usual, I stood to arms.
quote by Frank James
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Another Set of Lovers Under The Moon
the usual things we did
surely we will miss but we cannot
settle for less
and you know it and so we create and
recreate other usual moments
something new to the hold
of our hands
evenings that tempt the stars
mornings that
entice the thighs
we cannot sip coffee together
just us and
us
we will miss the unknown too
those that we like to
know
there is this pain in
anticipation
this letting go of the
old and
embracing the new
questions that
never quench our
quest for answers
and so
if you have decided to leave me
i may not be bothered at
all
for in another junction
another shadow is waiting
and the moon
spreads its golden mantle
for us
to be lunatics
again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sleep
Woke up
slept for quite a while
severe noise
around me
I look around
The wind
The hills
The sands
The flowers
as usual
were there
before I went to sleep
Your hand
as usual
was there
before I went to sleep
(August 25,1997)
poem by Sangnam Nam
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Novameco A Journey
You are lost and you’re telling me you are lost
And you are so afraid about doing things in the usual ways
So you come out from your window
You do not use the door
Or the stairs because as you said you do not like to things
In the most usual ways
You are tired of the usual ways and they do not appeal to your
Sense of exciting
Journey
A journey to the unusual to the unknown desert to the undiscovered
Ways
When you go home tonight you shall take the path of stars
As you wonder
To this place
Where there are not stairs no doors no windows
Where there is no house
And you take the journey alone and there will be no directions
You will like it
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thoughts After Sex
after sex
people sleep
that is the
usual exit that
people who want
to escape seem
to know and do
they sleep
the routine keeps
going like
house, office,
office, house
roads, doors
doors, road
after sex
the usual exit
is closed
you look at the
ceiling trying to
open another
door
but there isn't
any.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Indirectly...
i could have told you
i loved the way how Stevie Wonder
sang that song... i just called to say
i love you.
i care much for you
the usual nights that do not give me sleep
summer times have become
lonelier
i sent the message
and got the usual response
'Stop it! I don't want to be hurt again! '
i'm so sorry.
Thanks.
Perhaps i shall call again sometime
after another
25 years?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Morning Greeting
good morning, my friend
hope you're fine like the smooth morning rays of the sun
on soft hands caressing the shiny brown skin of my face
did you sleep well last night? let me ask if you have dreams
that make waking up a regretful event
i am out now for my usual walk to see the usual rising of the sun
on the golden ricefields on the road leading to a group of nipa huts
i am asking myself today: is there meaning to this usualness
this routine that comes to us without any break?
is there something new to the sun that we always expect to shine?
is there a twist to the usual chirps of birds, the usual white color of their wings? is there something better to do than walk and think the usual
thoughts of how to make a living and be the fit person to survive
this war on boredome
this struggle for meaning
this monotonous routine of this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that
there is no stuttering here, nothing symptomatic of sickness
and even death, there is this boredom again that will make us
not sleep the nights
and make us uneasy and restless and asking some more
what is this life? what is it giving me?
what am i giving it? how long?
just asking, i am returning to the house from this short walk
there is no music in my ears
more questions popping
i will just take tea
i need really to pee.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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