So many layers
every poem
i wrote
a part of me
taken off
a butterfly
leaving behind
its larvae
to take on wings
and colours
to explore the world
to give world
another layer
to fascinate over
van gogh
that shed
so many layers
to bring out
those layers
on his canvas
to our hearts
layers of pains,
tears, and......
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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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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Layers
Above are layers of atmosphere, stratosphere,
Below layers of topsoil, rock and clay,
People in layers rich and poor,
Cities built on top of cities, on top of cities.
Layers of thought conscious to unconscious,
Felt in layers asleep to awake,
In a dream of a dream, of a dream in a dream,
In a dream of a dream, in a dream.
poem by Richard Jarboe
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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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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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Seven Layers of Heaven
touch,
sight,
taste,
hear,
smell
....
....
seven layers
of heaven
set in me
two more
layers
lost in
myself
clouded
in the views
cast by the world
heaven
comes in
seven
layers
so say hindus,
chinese,
buddhists,
even the muslims
and hell?
between
all
the senses
the heart
that torments
the doers
for
his misdeeds
the fugitive
who manages
to run away from
everybody
but not
the burning hell
of conscience
that pokes
at his top
making him bleed
at the heart
day and night
hell and heaven
bound in this
frame of
heart, soul
and mind
a living hell?
the heaven
in seven layers
the other two layers?
sixth sense?
seventh sense?
two puzzles
that wait
for an answer
hidden
in the realms
that circle
around me
i look into the sky
and journey
to the
eternal sphere
that joins me
to the moons, stars
try taking me
out of this world
and it sure looks different
feel different
a whole new world
the seventh sense
seventh heaven
the sixth?
the woman
who digs
deep into
layers of her own mind
to find the dates
of her own death
and exciting upcoming events
of the world, the tsunami
third world war,
end of the world
a nostradamus
a hell in between all these?
the scorn
from bigots
two layers
of heaven that got lost
in me
covered by
the clouds
five is perhaps
a more lucky number
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Know my Pain
what is p.a.i.n,
pain is power asserting itself now,
usually expressed in the traumatizing rain,
letting your soul and your mind allow,
to bring about visions of despair,
that is towering over your heart,
what is a h.e.a.r.t,
a heart is howling expressions of a righteous tear,
yes, a heart is something that is always injured,
protected with a soul and mind,
that is always blocking a light,
leaving the heart confused and blind,
wandering and falling but still trying with all its might,
what is a s.o.u.l
a soul is a small outburst under layers,
indeed, a soul is something that needs pain,
yet, it doesn't have a heart,
it needs layers,
these layers are us humans,
humans complete the idea that,
(S.O.U.L) are (H.E.A.R.T) but is held down by (P.A.I.N)
fear my pain,
feel my pain,
hate my pain,
this is my pain,
KNOW MY PAIN
poem by Justice Bernard Brown
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Layers Of Wet Paint Applied
wet on wet paint on paint
layers of wet paint applied
to previous layered layers
technique requires rapid working
fevered fast compulsive genius painting
art in realms born in new mind expressions
art in realms born in space time multiversity visions
art work fever finished before first layers have dried
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The older the layers, the more each of them is uniform over a great extent; the newer the layers, the more they are limited and subject to variation within small distances.
quote by George Cuvier
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Is My Hiding Place
as a child i was hurt
hurt so deeply with nowhere to tell how hurt i was once
with no other place to bury my tears
to shout my fears
there were no skies above me
there was no moon to confide
there were only walls
i have grown up
through layers and layers of silence
thick silence thicker than the earth of million years
strong and big and always
keen and piercing the walls that i have been used to
i have seen more about life's pains
and felt the dangers
that i have escaped and survived
i have become a man
and found this hiding place
my poetry.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Looking Back To The Mountains Strong
when things go wrong
we struggle with so much
silence
sometimes a whistle can make
a good pretension
a slight tap on the back
a hug can make a good compliment
with us
there must be more to this struggle in silence
the years have been adding up
like layers of soil upon a hill
we dig into all these layers
to find roots
they are not dead yet
the trees may have no leaves and
all the twigs may have dried up
and when you cut it
each shall give up its hollowness
too easily in a snap of your finger
the layers are pictures of what we are
what kindness we extended to our shortcomings
we look back to see mountains still strong with their peaks
we look forward to the endless horizon of the seas
there are two suns now
you and I.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Truth Resides Not In The World But With God
Insight beyond opinion
facts knowledge true
or false is revealed time
corrective realities
or direct or indirect
revelation from God?
Where is truth?
Truth resides
not in the world
but with God.
Only God knows
ultimate truth
reveals truth
stripping away
plywood mask
multiple layers
thin layers
compressed
glued together
at right angles
are laid layers
stage props
falsehoods
stripped away
world shadows
only time when
as divine God
sees deems fit.
None have absolute
insight into truth
beyond plans
falsehoods
manipulations
of plywood present
world system
of greed of state
government
global manipulation
of facts truth
except when God
reveals such truth
to any omnipotent
omnipresent
omnibenevolent
omniscient God
may choose.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Snake
life is covered by a layers of skins-meaning, culture, conversational skills, talks, established education, certificates, friends, neighbours, dignity, concepts conditioned, sociality and liberty
When these skins fall off, one cannot even touch the softest metaphors of communication-light itself for success in life
A snake of life
Poisonous thin layers of knowledge of the world
Ancient wisdom comes back as a river of lost footsteps
In the forest of mindscape
A snake
Layers of skins taking off the airports of body
Now you are a man but not a human installing the humanity you yourself are longing for
A snake losing its tracking lines on earth
It's the texture of New York that people miss by filming elsewhere. There are layers and layers of character - even in the pavement - that you can't get anywhere else. And the speed that the people move. It's so different from other places.
quote by Richard Benjamin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Artwork
Artwork is particular, general works are about,
The scrutiny of an artistic work is immense;
The world profoundly elucidates me as an artist,
The big methods employed are far beyond mere thought.
What layers of thought have enriched us and all?
The layers of justice reside in the palettes of the masters;
Demonstrations of peace are derived from the work of art,
We must lunge forward into the dark and make benefit.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Domestic Help
in California she fills in
for some emptiness of another white man's home
away from her country
and kids and kin as the snow falls freely on the roof
of an American house
layers and layers of cold snow heaping through her eyes
as tears begin to fall
on her cheeks to the floor
she has to pay her bills
she has to write her emails
and then the old man says
it is time for his meal
and medicine
she rushes to his room,
wipes her tears
and she appears before him
on that wry smile of the
brown domestic helper.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Those layered Cakes
yesterday i passed by
my childhood stall by the road;
what an experience it was!
that woman in her 30s i used to see,
now only her creased forehead and face
to add another dimension between us.
how sweet her layered little squarish
suntan cakes still tasted;
those layers that i peeled off
piece by piece to savour their charms.
and as i peeled the women gave me
that more mature and
deeply heartstirring smile
that tore through the distance
between us as if each layer i had peeled carried a story of her own life.
those years of experiences
now seen in phases,
like the layers of her cake.
the child in me leapt up again.
i left behind what
have separated us
to present the innocent smile
we used to give each other.
momentarily we lived
those days when i was a child
and she a young woman.
those childhood years
when we saw people as what they were.
those childhood years
when our smiles, love
were a fountain spring of ourselves
until the days when growing up
added different shades
of feelings and thoughts
to our relationships.
i hate the layer
those creases and wrinkles
laid in me.
i prefer to see them
as a child
where she would probably be
the wise woman in some cartoon film.
how those cakes would never
be the same again.
how i loved those pink and white layers,
the pink and white that had always
carried a fairy tale behind them.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Not a Cage, But Stage, Where Hell or Heaven Is Built!
Each Soul is divine,
Divine journey of divine spark,
That journey as per divine plan!
Your children are not your children,
They are guests visiting you,
As scheduled by divine hands,
They are here with their own destiny and fate,
who is able to state, When who is at what state?
Your friends and relatives too,
Are on their journey own,
Remember the love and affection shown!
Love and understanding
are in the heart of those here rejoice,
Concentric spheres that look solid,
Just like Onions with layer after layer,
Nothing found when peeled,
But, Everything when properly lived!
Solid looking spheres are not solids,
They are energy layers,
waves of different pattern and kinds,
Ah! Look they are of different layers,
Matter that matters us,
is not the matter,
It is energy layers,
May be children or kiths and kins,
What we look is that
How we look,
How we look is what we are!
Our house is not our house until we own,
Our body is not ours,
Our mind is not our own,
Our soul is not ours,
Until we own and master it!
Our goal is not our goal,
Goalless we can't live,
Only goal we find here is peaceful coexistence,
peaceful exit from this Life's cage,
It is not the cage but the stage on which,
Hell or heaven built or felt!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Either/or
either you go
and run free like
a child bathing
naked under the rain
or you wear all your
underwears
and coats and masks
and you hide inside
your room and lock
all your windows
and doors
and disconnect
the electric current
from your doorbell
these are layers and
layers of choices
but whatever that is
that you pick from the rest
that is still poetry to me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lightning Creation Flash
traditional painting
new layers applied
to various segments
interactive portions
across most
of surface canvas
after air long
dormant delays
allowing
previous
layer to
completely
dry
drying
process
could
delay vary
several days
to several weeks
canvas talent
stasis dormant
depending
on previous
applied
thickness
layer
a process
not conducive
to rapid
genius mind
strokes
bushing
thought
sight felt
touched
in framed
contrast
unleashed
lightning creation flash
poem by Terence George Craddock
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