Flashes Through
Flashes through the glass window,
And like empty words of the churches who only believe without works;
For the sins of these religions are now spread all over!
But, the heaps of the rubbles are now like mountains behind your home.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Religions Are Welcome
It's a pleasure to lecture
About the sin of stealing.
It's a pleasure to listen
To talks on sins of stealing.
A thief speaks; other thieves hear.
Then they disperse for works.
Speaking and hearing about sins
Sooth the burns of sins people make.
Hence people welcome religions.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Glass
Words of a poem should be glass
But glass so simple-subtle its shape
Is nothing but the shape of what it holds.
A glass spun for itself is empty,
Brittle, at best Venetian trinket.
Embossed glass hides the poem of its absence.
Words should be looked through, should be windows.
The best word were invisible.
The poem is the thing the poet thinks.
If the impossible were not,
And if the glass, only the glass,
Could be removed, the poem would remain.
poem by Robert Francis
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The Case Of The Window Pain
an astute answer
discerning shrewd
would surely mention
this wit must be
personification
of a window pane
as for the window pain
perhaps the window is shamed
perhaps the window is dirty
as for the window pain
perhaps the glass is cracked
small large cracks streaked
as for the window pain
perhaps cricket ball punctured
victim of circle game holed
as for the window pain
perhaps the window is broken
glass shards bear crime witness
as for the window pain
perhaps window frame rots
an old window in house derelict
as for the window pain
perhaps the window witnesses
child abuse domestic scenes violent
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Lonely Child
Carlo Betocci's child
sits on a table and looks at the world
outside through a glass window
the view is too beautiful not to be touched
the high distant mountains
garnished by bluish clouds
and fingers of the sun
caressing the grassy plains
too far and yet too beautiful
the child couldn't help but caress the
glass window with his palms
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Those Empty People...
for in truth how can days be empty
with the sun up high
and grasses green below
and clouds of blue
in between?
those hollow men
chests filled with air
and words
without clarity and direction
words without meaning
spoken
without flesh and bones
promises and promises
nothing real
shattered principles
broken glass
indeed there are only empty
men speaking their
empty words
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Bickerings Are Over: A Forecast
rocks upon rocks
and mountains upon mountains
of rocks and heaps of sand upon
heaps of sand, red blood
spilling on this soil, and
bodies scattered along
the parths, and too much
writings of hate on the
walls,
the white horse has been
sent and the light from
the great sun has
penetrated every heart
now in the state of grace
each man shall be contented
and silenced.
the weather is fine and there
is food for all on the table.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It Works
He rattles his glass
She jumps up fast
And pours him a glass a tea
Deep in her heart she believes
Thats the way it should be
Yeah, now Ive seen my dad get fightin mad
Over on little four letter word
Hell tell you fast you dont talk like that around her
We may not see it the way they seee it
We may not do the way they do it
But she lives her life for him
And he gladly die for her
And even in this modern age it works
Though hes been down on his back
He still jumps out of that sack every morning at 5 am
Havin her home with the kids has been worth it to him
And she takes pride in being his wife
And making thier house a home
Sometimes she wishes the world would just leave them alone
We may not see it the way they seee it
We may not do the way they do it
But she lives her life for him
And he gladly die for her
And even in this modern age it works
If the good Lords willing
There will come a day
When our children will say
We may not see it the way they seee it
We may not do the way they do it
But she lives her life for him
And he gladly die for her
And even in this modern age it works
And even in this modern age it works
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Osmosis between good and evil
Sins are forgotten by the sinners.
Sins are forgiven by the creator.
That is why heaven is not empty.
Sins are justified by the sinners.
Sins are allowed by the creator.
That is why hell too is not empty.
But from time to time
Osmosis takes place.
24.04.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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In This Bin
in this bin
i put
everything
pains, sorrows,
&
joys, happiness
my bin
and my own alone
like some mailbox
of my
emotions
this is a world
where
i am: open, close
mystery,
double talk
whisper
shout
angry, scream, howl,
wail,
this is where
i can be everything: a mocking bird, a werewolf, an angel,
devil,
crocodile, merman, worm, fish, butterfly
eagle
monkey, ghost, soul,
passionate body
fingers, hands, feet
lips
all the feelings and colors
of my mind
feel me, as i too feel you
what have i to gain
what have i to lose
you say, you think, words, words, and nothing but words,
no,
no,
do not reduce everything to simple terms of words
and letters
and syllables,
this is a field where i have sown the seeds of my self
and some flowers
begin to bloom here, and some fruits are ripe for the picking
i like you being the child who climbs
the tree where my fruits are sweet and ripe
i like you being the lady who comes along
and picks my flowers
i like you being the wind that helps my clouds
drift only to be alive
crossing the boundaries of space between
peaks of mountains
this is not a dustbin anymore, this is my house
this is my dwelling
there is a soft easy chair in my mind
a glass vase with a red rose
glazed with dew
like my tears, like my eyes that i am hiding
for you not to clearly see
this is not just a dustbin, this is now my home
come
come
come
make this your home, enter my door, follow me
in the labyrinths of my feelings
my hopes and dreams
come
come
come
take a seat, and have breakfast with
me
see the glass window opening to a view
of the pines and the green mountains
a little frost may blind us
but here we are, i have prepared you tea
and
sympathy and some stories about myself
listen, and be free, to tell your stories too,
the sun has just shone
and indeed, it is a very new day.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The maker is not to blame.
Men had been rational
Till they’ve made religions,
Since when the religions
Have made them mere sheep.
Men had been awaken
Till they’ve made religions,
Since when the religions
Have made them quite drowsy.
Men had been brotherly
Till they’ve made religions,
Since when the religions
Have bred the rivalries.
Men had been good in mind
Till they’ve made religions,
Since when with all the walls,
They have become perverts.
If what was intended
From what was made
Has not been the outcome,
The maker is not to blame.
17.03.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Fait accompli
the plane took off
i realized i did not like the aisle seat
i transferred to the window seat
and the stewardess said
'excuse me, sir! ' trying to stop me
for doing so,
i pretended i heard no one
moved as fast a i can towards the window seat
fastened my seat belt
and put my head
well rested on the
beside the window
below the clouds flew
past me
on a deceiving speed
the mountains spread
benumbing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The End of Good Works
Many souls religious at their best, will surely fail their final test,
A test that man created friend, where good works are their end,
Ignoring The Words of The Son, God’s Only, True Chosen One,
Christ’s very words, “It is finished”; His Salvation is diminished.
Religion is man’s way to God, from down upon the earth’s sod,
In their works, they add to faith, ignoring Christ’s Saving Grace,
Letting religion guide their way, ignoring what Christ has to say,
Final words spoken by The Son, words from Him, for everyone.
Every religion is created by man; a salvation, not of God’s plan,
Led by the one who lied to Eve, so the religious, he will deceive,
Creating religions formed by men, of which, God shall condemn,
When Christ judges every nation, not by works but His salvation.
God, from above, sent His Lamb, Jesus Christ, The Great “I Am”.
To bring salvation to every land, Truth, all men must understand,
The Lord, who died on a tree, finishing salvation for you and me,
As Christ alone is the only way, no matter what religion does say.
All, who ignore the words of Christ, shall never enter Eternal Life,
As Christ alone paid the price, so that man could enter Paradise,
Good works won’t work friend, as many shall see come the end,
Ignoring Christ’s words on Calvary, will only bring wrath eternally.
(08/2011)
Do You Believe In: Jesus Christ Or The Cosmic Christ?
Easter is a time where we celebrate
the crucifixion of Jesus Christ
who is God Himself who died for our sins,
where we celebrate His resurrection
from death, where we proclaim
that through no other name,
no other person, there is salvation
from the penalty of sin
which the Bible explicitly states as death,
but at this very time there is an attack
on the Godhood of Jesus Christ,
where Afrikaans and English churches
in South Africa, churches throughout
the entire world,
are starting to follow the teachings
that Jesus was but a mere human being.
Where it is argued that God the Father
is guilty of child abuse,
in sending His Son to pay the penalty
for our sins instead of letting us
pay the price for them,
where Jesus Christ who is God Himself,
came down to this earth
to sacrifice His own life for us.
Further it is argued that Jesus Christ
was not resurrected from the grave,
that His body was eaten by dogs,
and that His disciples and apostles
lied about Him appearing to them,
it is argued that Jesus Christ
did not ascend to His Father in heaven
and some of the things
clearly stated in the holy Bible
is being seen as only myth
and thus men are saying
that Jesus Christ was only a man.
This poem is no attack on any church,
but as a follower of Jesus Christ
I see it as my duty
to proclaim Him and a relationship
with Him as the only way to salvation.
Behind the scenes Jesus Christ
who is God and who is
the Son of God, is being debased
to only a son of the gods
and slowly but surely lowered
to the position of only a prophet,
while ecumenism is spreading
to take hands, to find
a universal compatible christ
for all religions world wide
(by uniting Christian
and non-Christian religions)
and the way is opened
for the cosmic christ to appear,
who his believers clearly state
to be another person from Jesus Christ.
According to the Holy Bible
there are only two forces
interacting in this world
and the one is from God
and the other is from Satan
and as a believer
in the holy Bible only
as the word of God,
I choose to follow Jesus Christ
and God leaves a free choice
for whomever you decide to believe in.
poem by Gert Strydom
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When Your Sins Come Home to Roost
When you fear the barber’s mirror when you go to get a crop,
Or in sorrow every morning comb your hair across the top:
When you titivate and do the little things you never used—
It is close upon the season when your sins come home to roost.
Many were the sins of others and you never were to blame,
Some were sins you shared in common—you must suffer all the same;
Some were sins of wasted hours with the wine cup or a mate,
But you cannot share the burden—and they come in duplicate.
Oh! you’ll find the fowls are heavy and their claws are sharp and deep—
They will bow your head in working, they will jerk you from your sleep,
And so many hands are eager just to give your back a boost
On the road to wreck and ruin when your sins come home to roost.
But you don’t let on they’re roosting and you take some only way,
And you never whine or guzzle and you neither curse nor pray;
You will never for an instant let your lower lip be loosed—
But you stand up like a soldier when your sins come home to roost!
And you’ll find them growing lighter till you find room for a few
Of the sins of other mortals who have weaker souls than you:
Then you’ll smile, and not too sadly, at old sins reintroduced—
And you’ll be a man in many when your sins come home to roost.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Shatterproof
I see those newly weds
Their eyes wide and believing
They bill and coo at the mention of chez nous
Appearances can be deceiving
Its just a door and a window
Four walls and a roof
But a home of your own would be shatterproof
A door and a window
Four walls and a roof
But a home of your own would be shatterproof
We papered over all the cracks
And painted a cats lick and a promise
The landlord was a man of few words
And most of them were ominous
Its just a door and a window
Four walls and a roof
But a home of your own would be shatterproof
A door and a window
Four walls and a roof
But a home of your own would be shatterproof
It was nothing really to write home about
Then one day it all appears too much
Here comes my little hammer and its shatterproof touch
He said, be practical,
These are most unreasonable demands.
Forget about the broken spectacles
And the damage to your hand.
Its just a door and a window
Four walls and a roof
And the doctors say Im almost shatterproof
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Way The Look For The Words
he was careful in looking for the words
to make up his thoughts
he hangs his head on the railing of the train
closes the glass window
looks at the flashes of each passing scene
his eyes cannot wink
wide to the realities unfolding
against the speed of pictures and events
the sound of the honks and the ambulance
the trains on the byways of his mind
the destination finally arrives at the station
where everything becomes still
where everyone goes out takes the exit
to every door
and then he raises his hands to the faces that meet him
five just five of those sea of faces
and he wakes up
and he knows this is but an imagination on one of his journeys
for they are all dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This House Is Empty Now
(costello/bacharach)
These rooms play tricks upon you
Remember when they were always filled with laughter
But now theyre quite deserted
They seem to just echo voices raised in anger
Maybe you will see my face
Reflected there on the pane
In the window up above for long
In broken home
Yet this house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how am I supposed to live without you
These walls were lined with pictures
Remember the glass we charged in celebration
But now I fill my life up
With all that I can to deaden this sensation
Do you recognize the face
Fixed in that fine silver frame
Were you really so unhappy there
You never said
So this house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do to make you want to stay
So tell me how am I supposed to live without you
Oh, if I could just become forgetful
When night seems endless
Does the extinguished candle care
About the darkness
Its funny how the memory
Will bring you so close then make you disappear
Meanwhile all our friends must choose
Who they will favour, who they will lose
Hang the garland high, or close the door
Or throw away the key
This house is empty now
Theres no one living here
You have to care about
This house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how am I supposed to live without you
This house is empty now
This house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do
This house is empty now
This house is empty now
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Radio With Guts
it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street
I used to get drunk
and throw the radio through the window
while it was playing, and, of course,
it would break the glass in the window
and the radio would sit there on the roof
still playing
and I'd tell my woman,
"Ah, what a marvelous radio!"
the next morning I'd take the window
off the hinges
and carry it down the street
to the glass man
who would put in another pane.
I kept throwing that radio through the window
each time I got drunk
and it would sit there on the roof
still playing-
a magic radio
a radio with guts,
and each morning I'd take the window
back to the glass man.
I don't remember how it ended exactly
though I do remember
we finally moved out.
there was a woman downstairs who worked in
the garden in her bathing suit,
she really dug with that trowel
and she put her behind up in the air
and I used to sit in the window
and watch the sun shine all over that thing
while the music played.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Words (A True Poet)
We speak words of wisdom
when the heart is full of sadness
sometimes thoughts of happiness
when we bless the morning sun
other times just for fun
that's where a true poet comes from
We speak these words of poetry
in a timeless past
a masterpiece so vast
where motions and emotions
rush by so fast
We are all, but only one
on a empty highway lane
frost like snowflakes
on a window payne
we hold not the anger
from within
but express our lonliness
with paper and pen
Though our days are not forever
our words will always last
in this world of reality
like hours that never pass
in pastures of green grass
we're pieces of shattered glass
(spiritwind-1997)
poem by Spiritwind Wood
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Not all may be
Not all may be feeling same
But for that He is not to be blamed
Many God fathers have taken his place
For deprived people not to make chase
If any one was to feel high
Nobody would have been left and dry
Innocents are killed in day light
Who says men fear from Almighty's might?
All said and not done
It is momentary burst of bubbles
That remains for a while and gone
Everybody is aware that we are on heap of rubbles
We go to churches, mosques or temples
"That to show how religious we are' as samples
We pray only to come out from fishy affair
Only God may know what will be fair?
I blame no one as I am one of the same
Same origin and thoughts from where they came
We try to cheat almighty with unclear conscience
How can we then put on him for fair reliance?
I spend sleepless night when cry in bed
All those years were ruthlessly led
That cry from innocent people makes me restless
So far I have lived with double face
Can't we think in simple manner?
We have to go to him later or sooner
With what face we may reply to our sins?
Will then it be our biggest achievement or win?
It is open to all people who owe their existence out of clay
No matter how long they rule or hold the sway
Nothing can prevent them from being taken away
This is what He has carved out a simple way
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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