An Old Workman
Warped… gland-dry…
With spine askew
And body shrunken into half its space…
Well-used as some cracked paving-stone…
Bearing on his grimed and pitted front
A stamp… as of innumerable feet.
poem by Lola Ridge
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Life And Death On The Stone In The Pond
on that rainy month
a stone was so kind
enough
to let the green moss
wrap its
solid body
there was
mutual bliss in
their
company
then the drought
comes in months
the river where the stone
lives
dried and
mud turned to
cracked
surfaces
the moss knows
that this happens
every year
dies peacefully
around the solid body
of the stone
like sleep waiting
for the next rain
the stone is
undisturbed
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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i Don't Know, Somewhere Up There'
what's it that caught my eye?
all around aging stone walls
and innumerable steps to negotiate
i sit midway on a cracked step...
looking up somewhere there
with a fond hope
that you're there, up there
looking up somewhere there
with a streak of fear
of what i should do
if only you come down
to meet me midway...
how do i receive you
with my hands tightly
clasped and hidden within...?
*inspired by a photograph a friend sent in
23dec2009
11.15hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Descartes' Despair
How can we affirm our own existence?
Cogito ergo sum, Descartes said,
I think therefore I am.
But wait!
Who is doing the thinking?
The body?
Am I my body?
Well, Descartes explained, we are talking about
Two incompatible substances:
The unextended and indivisible mind
In contrast with the extended and divisible matter,
Res cogitans versus res extensa.
Yes, but am I my body?
How is the contact created
Between the mental
And the physical worlds?
Princess Elizabeth of the Palatinate asked.
Well, somewhere at the base of the brain,
In the pineal gland, replied the philosopher.
Oh, I have a problem with that,
The princess remarked.
For, if the brain exists in space,
How can the non-spatial mind dwell in it?
And Descartes threw up his hands
In despair.
poem by Paul Hartal
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The Aggravation
Hallowed be the academics
all those worldly astute
So be all the ill bred
and ones intellectually destitute
Endured I have their follies
and the toxins they continually spew
With warped their sensibilities
doubt my perspectives as gone askew
Having logic shrunk to triviality,
to plain gabble they are confined
With me treated as a sounding board
to their tirades get consigned
poem by Sunny Chopra
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About A Stone Without A Door
you are telling me about a stone
who refuses to admit anyone simply
because it has no door, no room and no space
for someone like you,
you who does not even know what knowing someone
really means. you ask the stone for a space and it says no
and you tell the stone that it has a space
where the leaf and a dropp of water live
the stone says no, and you insist because of the state you are in
you are dying and you need a place
perhaps a burial space where you may finally lay yourself
to rest, but the stone still says no, telling you that it has
no feelings that for centuries it has always been its nature
stony, stony silence, stony stares, unfeeling, that in its
house of stone, there exists no word for sympathy
that it is simply living up to the demands of its true nature
its tradition, and you finally understand, yet somehow you
tell the stone about what it does not know
inside it there is this leaf with dew, there is dropp of water
coming from the rain, that until now it has not fully known,
that inside its stony silence, there is still this song
that it has a heart that it keeps denying.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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339
you are telling me about a stone
who refuses to admit anyone simply
because it has no door, no room and no space
for someone like you,
you who does not even know what knowing someone
really means. you ask the stone for a space and it says no
and you tell the stone that it has a space
where the leaf and a dropp of water live
the stone says no, and you insist because of the state you are in
you are dying and you need a place
perhaps a burial space where you may finally lay yourself
to rest, but the stone still says no, telling you that it has
no feelings that for centuries it has always been its nature
stony, stony silence, stony stares, unfeeling, that in its
house of stone, there exists no word for sympathy
that it is simply living up to the demands of its true nature
its tradition, and you finally understand, yet somehow you
tell the stone about what it does not know
inside it there is this leaf with dew, there is dropp of water
coming from the rain, that until now it has not fully known,
that inside its stony silence, there is still this song
that it has a heart that it keeps denying.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bixby's Landing
They burned lime on the hill and dropped it down
here in an iron car
On a long cable; here the ships warped in
And took their loads from the engine, the water
is deep to the cliff. The car
Hangs half way over in the gape of the gorge,
Stationed like a north star above the peaks of
the redwoods, iron perch
For the little red hawks when they cease from
hovering
When they've struck prey; the spider's fling of a
cable rust-glued to the pulleys.
The laborers are gone, but what a good multitude
Is here in return: the rich-lichened rock, the
rose-tipped stone-crop, the constant
Ocean's voices, the cloud-lighted space.
The kilns are cold on the hill but here in the
rust of the broken boiler
Quick lizards lighten, and a rattle-snake flows
Down the cracked masonry, over the crumbled
fire-brick. In the rotting timbers
And roofless platforms all the free companies
Of windy grasses have root and make seed; wild
buckwheat blooms in the fat
Weather-slacked lime from the bursted barrels.
Two duckhawks darting in the sky of their cliff-hung
nest are the voice of the headland.
Wine-hearted solitude, our mother the wilderness,
Men's failures are often as beautiful as men's
triumphs, but your returnings
Are even more precious than your first presence.
Submitted by Holt
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Crossroads
The second half of my life will be black
to the white rind of the old and fading moon.
The second half of my life will be water
over the cracked floor of these desert years.
I will land on my feet this time,
knowing at least two languages and who
my friends are. I will dress for the
occasion, and my hair shall be
whatever color I please.
Everyone will go on celebrating the old
birthday, counting the years as usual,
but I will count myself new from this
inception, this imprint of my own desire.
The second half of my life will be swift,
past leaning fenceposts, a gravel shoulder,
asphalt tickets, the beckon of open road.
The second half of my life will be wide-eyed,
fingers shifting through fine sands,
arms loose at my sides, wandering feet.
There will be new dreams every night,
and the drapes will never be closed.
I will toss my string of keys into a deep
well and old letters into the grate.
The second half of my life will be ice
breaking up on the river, rain
soaking the fields, a hand
held out, a fire,
and smoke going
upward, always up.
poem by Joyce Sutphen
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(I'm Not Your) Steppin' Stone
I I I I I'm not your stepping stone
I I I I I'm not your stepping stone
You're trying to make your mark in society
Using all the tricks that you used on me.
You're reading all those high fashion magazines
The clothes you're wearin' girl are causing public scenes.
I said
I I I I I'm not your stepping stone
I I I I I'm not your stepping stone
Not your stepping stone,
Not your stepping stone.
When I first met you girl you didn't have no shoes
Now you're walking 'round like you're front page news.
You've been awful careful 'bout the friends you choose
But you won't find my name in your book of Who's Who.
I said
I I I I I'm not your stepping stone
I I I I I'm not your stepping stone
Not your stepping stone,
Not your stepping stone
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Steppin' Stone
(i'm not your) steppin' stone
By tommy boyce and bobby hart
I i i i i'm not your stepping stone
I i i i i'm not your stepping stone
You're trying to make your mark in society
Your using all the tricks that you used on me.
You're reading all them high fashion magazines
The clothes you're wearin' girl are causing public scenes.
I said
I i i i i'm not your stepping stone
I i i i i'm not your stepping stone
Not your stepping stone,
Not your stepping stone.
When i first met you girl you didn't have no shoes
Now you're walking 'round like you're front page news.
You've been awful careful 'bout the friends you choose
But you won't find my name in your book of who's who.
I said
I i i i i'm not your stepping stone
I i i i i'm not your stepping stone
Not your stepping stone,
Not your stepping stone.
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Space
T-minus 60 seconds and counting
Arm light on
Switching command 2 internal
Switching command 2 internal
[missile..internal..]
Affirmative
Ready
Check
Affirmative
Affirmative
Space
I never been 1 2 hide my feelings
Baby, u blow my mind
I painted your face upon my ceiling
I stare at it all the time
I imagine myself inside your bedroom
Oh I imagine myself in your sky
(u) u are the reason theres bass in my boom
(oh u) u are the reason Im high
If u and I were just ten feet closer
Then Id make u understand
That everything I wanna do 2 your body, baby
I would do 2 your head
Then ud be hip 2 the deep rush
Deeper than the boom of the bass
With every other flick of the pink plush
The closer we get 2 the space (the closer we get 2 the space)
(the space)
(the space)
(the space)
Dont u want 2 go? (the space)
Where the souls go (the space)
Where the tears flow (the space)
Where the love grows
Do u want 2 go?
I never been 1 4 this thing obsession
But just keep your eye on my hips
The circles they may be my confession
Just say the word and Ill strip
Ive had dreams of us cuddling on the planet mars
Then when I wake up, Im all covered in sex
With eyes that fall somewhere between rubies and stars
Dont look at me baby or Ill flex
If u and I were just ten feet closer
Then Id make u understand
That everything I wanna do 2 your body, baby
I would do 2 your head
Then ud be hip 2 the deep rush
Deeper than the boom of the bass
With every other flick of the pink plush
The closer we get 2 the space
(the space)
Go (the space)
Flow (the space)
Grow
Do u want 2 go?
(the space)
Where the souls go (the space)
Where the tears flow (the space)
Where the love grows
Do u want 2 go?
Bass
T-minus 60 seconds and counting
Arm light on
The space, the space, the space, the space
Switching command 2 internal
Switching command 2 internal
[missile..]
Affirmative
Ready
Ready
Check
Check
Affirmative
The space, the space, the space, the space
The space, the space, the space, the space
Closer we get 2 the space
The space, the space, the space, the space
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Penetration And Trust
I
Sleek as a lizard at round of a stone,
The look of her heart slipped out and in.
Sweet on her lord her soft eyes shone,
As innocents clear of a shade of sin.
II
He laid a finger under her chin,
His arm for her girdle at waist was thrown:
Now, what will happen and who will win,
With me in the fight and my lady lone?
III
He clasped her, clasping a shape of stone;
Was fire on her eyes till they let him in.
Her breast to a God of the daybeams shone,
And never a corner for serpent sin.
IV
Tranced she stood, with a chattering chin;
Her shrunken form at his feet was thrown:
At home to the death my lord shall win,
When it is no tyrant who leaves me lone!
poem by George Meredith
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The Stone That You Love
you are unique
for having loved a stone
how did the stone
entice you?
are you seduced by
its silence?
are you tempted by
its solitude?
you take the pain
poking the stone to
your heart
and you bleed
you rub the stone
in the skin of your body
hoping that someday
the stone may have
feelings and
love you
but this is all useless
the stone is a stone is a stone
and there is no love
in its blank stare
there is no softness in its
belly
i ponder upon this
and come to think of it
you and the stone
are the same
on this hardheadedness
this futility
this numbness
this suffering without end
the stone can never give
a part of its cracks
it will never part with its
dust
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Waves to fall in love
Men eyes heave on woman as waves, on the shore.
Each wave of men has got a crush on her.
Waves in succession rise and fall ashore,
Each flash yielding innumerable droplets,
That have very much bearing on the shore.
Do they do without a purpose?
Do they do without any pleasure?
Is not the pleasure itself a purpose?
Acts of love are an on-going pleasure.
It purrs the senses, thanks to dopamine.
It enlivens the body, thanks to Endorphin and Enkaphalins.
Loving is like breathing, with t he end in not view.
30.12.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Two Travels
i've gone to more places
hazy ones like shadows still not fully boldly outlined
by those dark lines pitted against the outbursts of lights
from these half-opened windows
while simply sitting down
flat on the floor
looking for nothing
the trips on those long hours of jetting in the air
and trekking on those cobbled streets of kota bahru
and the scalding heat of the sun
on Poring
still imagining the winds on the canopy walks of kinabalu park
on top of trees
and just as when my feet lands on
those untrodden trails
i feel short of those unsatisfied longings
still hungry for breath
still thirsty for something beyond water
now that i am home
the travel is deeper inside
beyond what my heart
can beat
perhaps what i have been searching is just here
beneath my feet.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Unmoved Mover, see who am I!
The Unmoved Mover!
The universe that moving,
The universe that is changing,
The universe that is playing,
Projecting and hiding,
Playing that hide and seek,
Who is that hides and who is that seeks,
Who is that moving the infinite universe?
The one, who that can Be moved by prayers,
Does he really move,
And can He move, before He move worlds for us?
He is infinite, filling all space,
Can he move the universe,
can he move it without the space
Can He move it without 'Time'
When He fills the space,
how can he move himself
or how can he move something in space?
He is the Unmoved Mover of universe,
He himself created room,
He Himself moved Himself in Himself
Creating Himself the time and space,
He Himself manifested at different points
And keeping space between these points,
Infinite He split himself into elements
five or a few
And created particles and forces between,
That expanded matter and space,
Created events,
so that the time has any meaning,
He Himself became nucleotides and cells,
Joined them as building blocks,
To build house for himself,
And became homesick always,
Yet wept for his lost glory and beauty,
Wanted to have back all that lost and hide,
When He was busy in building a nest for own!
He was thinker without brain,
And He is that,
He is I am,
'I am' is he,
If you ask 'who are you thee and
where are you thee? '
He replies, Iam tree in this tree,
I am the stone in this stone,
I am the star in this star,
Iam the air in atmosphere,
Iam the water in rivers and ocean,
I am the bacteria in this bacterial house,
Iam the bull in this bulls body,
I am the grass at your feet,
I am you in your body,
I am that in which I feel,
When you ask me who are me,
I say I a proud Hindu,
Or I say I am a proud sikh
Or I am a proud muslim
Or I am proud Christian,
Or A proud Aryan But I fail to say,
I am humble human,
Iam like point in infinite
universe, and is a child of God, all
are his children, so we are
brother and sisters!
And I am that infinite when I am in my own infinite glory and infinite beauty!
Look through you, I look at myself,
Look around, I look at myself from all around,
Look I am talking to myself,
I am that call myself as you when I see from that point from this point of space and time, both which have no existence without my folly in wisdom or wisdom in folly!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Sonnet: Postal Stamp History
Sonnet: Postal Stamp History
The postal stamp started in England (1840)
And was destined to spread around the world.
It would soon reach as far as Brazil,
As the momentum continued to swirl.
It reached the United States of America
In the year of eighteen-forty five.
And a winner throughout the centuries
The postal stamp is very much alive.
The price of the first stamp was one cent.
But today, it would cost forty-four
And with so many rate hikes in between,
I am very sure that there will be more.
And as long as there is mail to send,
The postal stamp will never come to end.
poem by Walterrean Salley
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The Third Eye
The third eye grants a knowledge divine
says a Sanskrit Manuscript, with the light
of a million lustrous suns, today scientists
suppose the pineal gland to be the third eye
White and grey tissue, pea-sized, cone-shaped,
buried at the back of the skull on the brain’s mid-
line; primitive, light-sensitive, producing hormone
melatonin - melanin pigment for skin/hair colouring
Manufactured from serotonin, a chemical in the pineal
enabling rational thought, when blocked by LSD, man
suffers schizophrenia and hallucinations – the pineal
gland affects body processes and the emotions
Lobsang Rampa said when the third eye opening was
made in his head, the pineal gland enabled him to see
the aura – the angry red flames spurting from violent
people - I am glad I cannot see that
Though I would have loved to see the pure golden aura
around the heads of the holy – and the purplish blue
around the truly spiritual…
‘The Reader’s Digest Book of Strange Stories,
Amazing Facts’, Reprinted July 1977
“The Eye of Enlightenment” - Mystery inheritance
from our remote ancestors - pp 44 & 45
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Elephant Stone
Burst into heaven
Kissing the cotton clouds
Arctic sheets and fields of wheat
I cant stop coming down
Your shrunken head
Looking down on me above
Send me home like an elephant stone
To smash my dream of love
Dreaming till the sun goes down
And night turns into day
Rooms are empty Ive got plenty
You could move in right away
It seems like theres a hole
In my dreams
In my dreams
In my dreams
Down through the heavens
Choke on the cotton clouds
Arctic sheets and fields of wheat
I cant stop coming down
Your shrunken head
Looking down on me above
Send me home like an elephant stone
To smash my dream of love
Did your bed and bookshelf go
And run run run away
These four walls saw the rise and fall
And your midnight getaway
Seems like theres a hole
In my dreams
Or so it seems
Yet nothing means anything
Anymore
song performed by by Stone Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Spine Surfs Alone
Oh look out now
Just between the shoulders
Here it comes -- the spine
Oh look out now
Just between your shoulders
The spine surfs alone
Good times
Oh look out now
Just between your shoulders
What will cure you?
Bacitracin
Campho-phenique
Calamine lotion
Nothing's gonna help you now
The spine surfs alone
So said the rule book
As it was written, it will be
The spine surfs alone
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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