Once Desired To Be Filled To The Brim
Spilling over the rim,
With overflowing grim details...
On a daily basis these days,
Is enough for anyone...
To wish for those cups,
Once desired to be filled to the brim...
To hurry and empty up.
And be thrown away in disgust.
With a looking elsewhere,
To measure the degree of their fortunes.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
446
You and I
I see a glass
Half empty
And I see your hands
Filling an emptiness
That I have
Invented.
I am empty now
And then
You fill me
Up to the brim
I am overflowing
And here you
Are
In the full blast
Of your lust
That you
Invented
Licking me
From the
Bottom
Beyond the brim.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You and I together
I see a glass
Half empty
And I see your hands
Filling an emptiness
That I have
Invented.
I am empty now
And then
You fill me
Up to the brim
I am overflowing
And here you
Are
In the full blast
Of your lust
That you
Invented
Licking me
From the
Bottom
Beyond the brim.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Try To Remember Some Details
Try to remember some details. Remember the clothing
of the one you love
so that on the day of loss you'll be able to say: last seen
wearing such-and-such, brown jacket, white hat.
Try to remember some details. For they have no face
and their soul is hidden and their crying
is the same as their laughter,
and their silence and their shouting rise to one height
and their body temperature is between 98 and 104 degrees
and they have no life outside this narrow space
and they have no graven image, no likeness, no memory
and they have paper cups on the day of their rejoicing
and paper cups that are used once only.
Try to remember some details. For the world
is filled with people who were torn from their sleep
with no one to mend the tear,
and unlike wild beasts they live
each in his lonely hiding place and they die
together on battlefields
and in hospitals.
And the earth will swallow all of them,
good and evil together, like the followers of Korah,
all of them in thir rebellion against death,
their mouths open till the last moment,
praising and cursing in a single
howl. Try, try
to remember some details.
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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Have It All
You're my size I need to try you on
Someone in between the right and wrong
Through everything you kept your wings apart
Through everything you scared the sinners
And when I've had enough
She drains me
When I'm empty
She helps herself
She takes it all
In too deep
She's spilling over me
In too deep
She's spilling over me
Don't wanna hear
Running through this maze you hold me in
Searching in a daze to find the out
Through everything you left your wings apart
I'm everything I'm anyone you want
And when I've had enough
She drains me
When I'm empty
She helps herself
She takes it all
In too deep
She's spilling over me
In too deep
She's spilling over me
Don't wanna hear
I'm everything you're everything I'm not
I'm anything I'm anyone you want
She drains me
When I'm empty
She helps herself
She takes it all
In too deep
She's spilling over me
In too deep
She's spilling over me
In too deep
She's spilling over me
In too deep
She's spilling over me
song performed by by Foo Fighters from One By One
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Little Victory
A certain measure of innocence
willing to appears naive
a certain degree of imagination
a measure of make-beleive
a certain degree of surrender
to the forces of light and heat
a shot of satisfaction
Celebrate the moment
as it turns into one more
another chance at victory
another chance to score
the measure of the moment
is a difference of degree
just one little victory
a spirite breaking free
one little victory
the greatest act can be one little victory
a certain measure of righteousness
a certain amout of force
a certain degree of determination
daring on a different course
acertain amout of resistance
to the force of life and love
a certain measure of tolerence
a willingness to rise above
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grim and Stuck On Their Knees
Grim and stuck on their knees.
Too many people with weak souls.
They are the ones claiming to know...
How others should go about their days,
And pray.
Grim...
And stuck on their knees.
Seekers wishing to be equal.
But complain about their troubles,
And evils they face all day.
Seen running to be hidden in shadows.
Running from realities they choose not to believe.
Desperate are the lives of these people.
Sharing as seen their half filled cups...
With others they seek,
Like them who have given up!
Grim...
And stuck on their knees.
They see themselves with bad luck.
Grim and stuck on their knees.
Afraid to get out of ruts.
They want their boats re-ruddered.
Grim and stuck on their knees.
They want them sugar buttered.
Grim and stuck on their knees...
They seek a life that's other than the one 'not' cookie cutter.
Grim...
And stuck on their knees.
They see themselves with bad luck.
Grim and stuck on their knees.
Afraid to get out of ruts.
They want their boats re-ruddered.
Grim and stuck on their knees.
They want them sugar buttered.
Grim and stuck on their knees...
They seek a life that's other than the one 'not' cookie cutter.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Walking With The Lover...
walking with the Lover...
i see empty fields plowed,
come alive with crops abundant.
empty factory buildings filled
with the ghosts of hard working lives.
empty houses lit up,
and the sounds of families.
empty hands given cups and bowls,
empty hearts held close!
empty words given meaning,
empty promises fulfilled.
walking with the Lover...
touching the plenty of empty!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Realizing Reality...
we have been filled
to the brim
our contents are overflowing
what is it that we can choose?
except to
empty what is full
to discard what we think we can
we do not rationalize anymore
there is simply no place for
this
at this time of the
state of our affairs
when we are moving without an exact direction
where we have to confess
that all our compasses
are broken
our fingers do not point
to the north
the skies are cloudy
and cold
in such a paradox
of cold
and heat
all co-existing
actually we must profess
that understanding had always
been at a loss
the confusion is gaining ground
and then we
begin to understand
we walk cool
there is no rush
our minds are empty
and we have
become
so confident
saying this is it
this after all is the truth of my existence
this purposeless life
this non-fulfillment
of desire
this luster lust
then we stand against the sunset
welcoming
whatever happens
what happens happens
and must happen
and what do we have
we have nothing
to lose
oh, pinch us
we are real now
we are not sands anymore
but stones
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It is easier to carry an empty cup than one that is filled to the brim.
Nothing can compare with the beauty of spring
Nothing can compare with the beauty of spring,
with branches filled with blossoms
in clusters of pink, yellow and white
and every day has a bright sunny look
and everything is pure and lustrous
with fragrant cups that are opening, everywhere it lives
with new energy, as if everything is filled with joy
in the branches birds sing a tribute
bees and butterflies caper,
the sky is open and sapphire blue,
birds fly up and down
and my heart is overflowing
from every loving glance from you,
is knocking stormy almost out of control.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Dont Stop Believin
(john farrar)
You think the world should see things your way
Love, I know you, you think good fortunes here to stay
Love, I know you shined in everything you tried before
Your smile can open any door
But on those days when nobody wants to know you
And all your smiles keep falling on stoney ground
Dont stop believin, dont stop believin
Dont stop believin, youll get by
Bad days, bad days will hurry by
You never chase your dreams, they find you
Love, I know you, if you need love, it finds you too
Love, although you sail alone and free
Ill follow in your wake
And pray one day my heart youll take
But on those days when nobody wants to know you
And all your smiles keep falling on stoney ground
Dont stop believin, dont stop believin
Dont stop believin, youll get by
Bad days, bad days will hurry by
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Startled
People are such mysterious creatures to observe.
When it's believed
Someone seen on a daily basis,
Has no worth they can detect.
That person becomes like them...
Driven by bad luck and circumstance.
They are comfortable with not taking chances.
And 'good luck' is what they express in doubt!
However...
When it is discovered someone seen on a daily basis,
Has, in fact...
Achieved accomplishments,
In front of them and not behind their backs!
They become quite startled that someone like that...
Could care less about the methods used,
Or who determines how success is measured to reflect
One's influence!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Her Empty Spaces
She knew
the rain well.
It,
filled her
empty spaces.
So did I.
She had a
bland,
albeit,
deliciousness
about her
Her thickened
sweetness
was ladled
upon my
tongue,
time and time
again.
a beautiful
woman,
who,
painted
beautifully.
delicate
br ush
strokes,
caressed
her
coarse
canvas
fi ner details;
that of
love,
she ignored.
Yes,
she was
a beautiful
woman,
who,
painted
beautifully.
And the rain...,
It filled her
empty spaces.
So did I.
T. Labbe`
The Insecurities Of Aging...
the more you age
the more you keep things to yourself
old and new socks are mixed up in one wooden cabinet
somehow you are not using any
it is just the keeping for keeping sake
you are not thinking of any heir of any shoe
you begin to emphasize the importance of empty containers
how each must be filled
an empty cup must have coffee to its brim
an empty room must have someone to talk to
and empty road shall have at least one car making a dusty path
the empty stairs are too fearful to look at
how you hate an empty chair
it can make you sick if no one sits in there in another hour
the hours can be empty too
how can you stop the arms of the clock from taking away the sound
of ticking?
you are sensing a terminal
the train must be full so that you can never experience the
palpitations of being alone
you can hear it like the sounds of korean drums
the cascading waterfalls
the horns of taxis in city traffic
do not dare to stop the inevitable
i assure you... you can't. So? get yourself attuned
have an empty cup and learn to drink from it
you must feign the satisfaction of thirst, because
it can't be long.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Qualified to Make Productive Contributions
Do you have a degree?
'A degree in what? '
You know?
Something that validates your intelligence!
'Oh...
Something that documents my discipline,
And education?
Something that verifies my verity,
To conform to the wholesomeness of humanity.
And I am now qualified to make productive contributions?
My life lived,
Has already provided the requirements.'
Uh...yeah...I guess.
Whatever that was you said.
'And...
I imagine you have at least 'one' degree? '
Of course!
I got me two.
And I'm gon' get me a job that pays.
'Hopefully not to teach English!
And...
Suppose I did not have that 'degree'.
Would that make my efforts less credible?
Would that make a fame or notoriety less worthy?
IF...
I should pursue that route.
I know this is difficult for you to believe...
But a degree doesn't measure my success felt.
And I feel pretty damn successful! '
So...
You 'do' have a degree?
'You've missed my point entirely.
And you...
Have been depicted as a scholar?
God...
Thank you for opening my mind,
And doors! '
OH!
So you've studied to be a minister?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dont Slow Down
96 degrees the sun is burning
Ra is smiling when the whip comes down
The caravan of stones creeps through the desert
The valley of kings is filled with sound
Hurry up come on pull boys come on never stop
Hurry up the pharaos dying
The pyramid grows higher and higher
The treasure chamber is already filled
The pharao is ill no time to waste
The architects pray before they get killed
Hurry up come on pull boys come on never stop
Hurry up the pharaos dying
Dont slow down
Tons of stones for the honour of the crown
Dont slow down
Pull that stone in the name of the crown
86 degrees in the city of rome
The pope decides he needs a new dome
So suffer boys in the name of god
And empty your pockets for his new home
For his new dome
Hurry up come on pull boys come on never stop
Hurry up the pharaos dying
Dont slow down
Tons of stones for the honour of the crown
Dont slow down
Pull that stone in the name of the crown
song performed by by Fury In The Slaughterhouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thrown Into This World
he may have been thrown into this world
complaining that this matter is without his
consent and he may walk like he does not
belong and would not speak their language
or adopt to their dance and songs. He may
just stand there and watch and tell that he
does not like everyone and everything and
not gain any confidence from anyone and
he may just be a nobody but a protester.
Sadly, he is thrown into this world and
Gladly, he shall be thrown out. He reaps
what he sows. He sows dislike he shall
reap disgust and that is fair enough.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Overflowing
The glass you have in your hand
Overflowing juice
On the white mantel
You laugh at me
I am filled with envy
And then you notice
The mess
Of this overflowing madness
You want to make things
Clean again
You take the excess
And throw them away
You rub it with rags
The stains are there and
You regret
These matters of
What you do not need
I wait
And inside me I too laugh
You could have given things away
Throw them all
If you only ask me
That was what I did when I was young
And too hardheaded
I’ve known what overflowing madness is
Once, twice, thrice
Almost I was destroyed
And I did the throwing before it was dark
And it was not too late
And I had no regrets
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The degree that these scenes went to... there was a couple of days I was upset... I'd have to hurry back to the girls in the makeup trailer and have a bit of a cry because it messes with your head.
quote by Natasha Richardson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death on life hovers as such...
Death on life hovers as such
Bee for nectar to quench its thirst
This bowl so empty left at dusk
Once filled till brim with life and lust
poem by Lama Abbas
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