Insufficiency of Maps
Fifty million days of yalda
Thirty thousand strides to surmount
Two lost footsteps
An obfuscated horizon
And a vulpine mirage veiling
The photographs that never lied
I wallowed in the traceless sand
Of this oceanic wasteland
Six feet above an abysmal trench
Where all your promises sank
The air is putrid with the stench
Of macabre gushing from your mouth
The emaciated clouds plastered
The evening stars and their directions
Whilst the spigot of life poured
Draining what's left to drought
And these veins closed like breaths
Heaved for a final stride
I searched for smiles
Like messages in the sand
Like croons carried by the Levanter
Sifting and drifting with consciousness
Like ornate dreams too banal
In the verisimilitude of reality
Yet too good a taste
To remain the same
The insufficiency of maps you've left
Riveted me under the scorches
Of the sun's arrogant maw
And I will wait her futilely
To be found once more
As the time passes by in truancy.
poem by Norman Santos
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Sunset Pedagogies I
A perilous chime swooned over me
As the ghastly smoke part your lips
Along with adamant words that shook
The golden manacles coiled under our feet
And the rivers that you poured deluged
To part this parceled ground but you
Are now swimming towards a shore
Whilst I remained here waiting futilely
Without any hopes or dreams at all
And while our souls wander far
We remain moored into this cloud
Where we sat to watch the dusk
Bounce endlessly in the empty horizon
Until the poetic pillars sank in the sand
And the mirrors were mantled by a pall
To save the gilded smile from shattering
The life in you incinerated high and
The sky above us were pacific and immense
But the oil drowning my eyes
Incarcerated our burning sunset
And the perilous serenading of the sirens
Took you away and you transcended far
Past the memories of collapsing stars
And I promised myself to never again
Walk naked inside a mirror house.
poem by Norman Santos
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Mendocino County Line (feat. Willie Nelson)
(Willie Nelson and Lee Ann Womack)
Counted the stars on the 4th of July
Wishing they were rockets bursting into the sky
Talking about redemption and leaving things behind
As the sun sank west of the Mendocino County Line
As fierce as Monday morning feeling washed away
Our orchestrated paradise couldn't make you stay
You dance with the horses through the sands of time
As the sun sinks west of the Mendocino County Line
I have these pictures and I keep these photographs
To remind me of a time
These pictures and these photographs
Let me know I'm doin' fine
I used to make you happy once upon a time
But the sun sank west of the Mendocino County Line
The two of us together felt nothin' but right
Feeling you near immortal every Friday night
Lost in our convictions left stained with wine
As the sun sank west of the Mendocino County Line
I have these pictures and I keep these photographs
To remain me of a time
These pictures and these photographs
Let me know I'm doin' fine
I used to make you happy once upon a time
But the sun sank west of the Mendocino County Line
I don't talk to you too much these days
I just thank the lord pictures don't fade
I spent time with an angel just passing through
Now all that's left is this image of you
Counted the stars on the 4th of July
Wishing we were rockets bursting in the sky
Talking about redemption and leaving things behind
I have these pictures and I keep these photographs
To remind me of a time
These pictures and these photographs
Let me know I'm doin' fine
We used to be so happy once upon a time
Once upon a time
But the sun sank west of the Mendocino County Line-acap
song performed by by Lee Ann Womack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Places Of Arrival
WORDS come like rain
upon the road the wetness runs
upon the head the rivers come
always running
nothing remains always going somewhere
nothing is left
as always the silence of the numbness
the self that is king
without land without a castle
the nudity of man
the insufficiency of his mind
the bareness of the soul
barren as sand
the dust of the bones
the air of the flesh
the catacombs of our existence
somehow our footsteps insist
about a direction
of a place
it is not there like fate that we
imagine
like aims
like visions that fade like mirage
when we arrive
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Moonless Timelessness Of Yalda
The rustles of the rainy dawn frightens the bowing trees
And the stammering lances shear the curtains of somnolence
The sun was ousted from the smeared clouds along with all
The morning songs of the canaries and the gaunt earth regressed
Underneath the mellifluous whispers of the smoky blanket
The devious swaying of the pendulum staggered for symmetry
With its wavering subdued and unnoticed, it found its poise
In a vertical divide it lay asleep, and time was suddenly mine
A riddle hoisted in a queen's repose at the notch of my head
Pulling strings and knotting gnarled quiescence, of suddenly
The time I owned owned me in her nonexistence, and the equinox
Remained elusive to the treacherous moonless and pouring sky
Its enthralling spell beckoned a metallic silence and the absence
Of the thousand points that drifts to collect the quintessence
Of this perforated globe, and with all these reasons and unreasoning
Sank into the pits of evanescence; I came to face a different face of the day -
An endless night devoid of time, wearing a filigree of arctic sighs - a yalda
These masquerading days and empty nights fled through the sly gutters
Of girdling eclipses; a timeline of dark lattices and abysmal musing
I stared into the contumely moue of the gray sky as it obliviously poured
Its frosty mourn in a blighted land of intertwining dusks and dawns
And from this tête-à-tête to the abeyance of light I learned a subtle pain,
A forlorn despondence that will not be mended by a valiant or broken heart
Because this groveling pride of moonlessnes is a fix - a sense of sensibility
Because I have learned the pedagogy of a bony moon's waning,
A starlights oscillating sparks and a two-faced sky's haughty shifting;
But I have never learned to molt with time and this agelessness
Had crippled my veins in a squalid wisdom for beauty and I'm growing tired:
Too tired to wish for the moon to rise from the frothing waves,
Too tired to repair the spigot of heavens that never err to sojourn;
Too tired to rival the inner darkness of this timelessness.
In this godly palm of darkness I lay alone but festooned
By the myriad gregarious transitions of interpolating voices -
Voices hauled from the vile blackness of the oceanic past
Telling me that you are still warm and alive in a transatlantic path
That crosses this land every once in a while in a guise
That shall beckon how you came and left - an arid cold pang
That crawled the dermis of life like an invitation to death;
Saddled in every whim of the reedy air, falling with every weeping drizzle,
A company to the misery lurking in the ubiquitous blindness
That this season of howling wolves and hooting owls,
Of brawling terrors basking in the foliage of cobwebs
Spewed in the intoxicating smoke of this yalda.
poem by Norman Santos
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Pictures In The Sand
And Im gonna spend my time,
Drawing pictures in the sand for you.
And Im gonna ride the tide[? ],
And Im gonna make a rendezvous.
Sitting by the sea,
Sipping at my tea,
Drawing pictures in the sand,
And writing message to you.
Pictures in the sand (drawing pictures in the sand)
There is nothing I would rather do (there is nothing I would rather do)
Than just sit here in the sand (drawing pictures in the sand)
And think of thinks Id like to say to you (I love you true)
Every single day (every single day)
I waste my time away,
Drawing pictures in the sand,
And writing messages to you.
(all together)
Pictures in the sand. (drawing pictures in the sand)
Pictures in the sand.
If I didnt have a dime,
Would you still be loving me?
While I spend my whole life through,
Drawing pictures just for you.
But I could never draw my love,
Its so very hard to do.
Every single day,
I waste my time away,
Drawing pictures in the sand,
And writing messages to you.
Pictures in the sand. (drawing pictures in the sand)
Pictures in the sand. (do-bum, do-bum...)
Pictures in the sand. (drawing pictures in the sand)
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sand On My Shoes
As I sit by the sea
Drink tequila by the shade of a tree
Theres a seniorita sat on my knee
Sprinkling sand all over me
Ive got sand on my shoes
Ive lost everything that Im gonna lose
Ive got nothing but the sun and the moon
And the sand thats on the beach
I am happy though my shoes are tattered and torn
Because the sea is so shiney
Ba ba-um-ba
Ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba-um-ba
Ive got sand on my shoes
Thought I was civilized
Till I saw the sea and I realized
That the city life was just not for me
Left my troubles behind me
Ba ba-um-ba
Ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba-um-ba
Ive got sand on my shoes
Ive got nothing else that Im gonna lose
Ive got nothing but the sun and the moon
And thats plenty for me
Ive got sand on my shoes
Ive got sand on my shoes
Ive got sand on my shoes
Sand on my shoes
Ba ba ba ba-um-ba
Ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba-um-ba
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strange Meeting Ii
Deep down in the depths of forgotten dreams
So far away so long ago it seems
The memory comes of a distant beach
Pale sand stretching far from reach
It was then I found my princess of the sand.
As I traced the foam, peebles beneath my feet
I looked behind, I saw this one so sweet
She came to me and I saw in her eyes
The heavy toll of a thousand eyes
I called her my princess of the sand.
She stared at me and my mind was in a maze
As we moved along in a summer sea-dream haze
She moved her mouth but there came no sound
The message she brought can never be found
But I called her my princess of the sand.
One moment we walked with the night breeze in our face
Then I looked, shed gone. of her presence there was no trace
Where she went or came from who can know
Or if shell ever return to help me know
Who she is, my princess of the sand.
Sometime when the summer nights come back
Ill go back to the sea, follow that sandy track
Ill look around, hope to find
That strange young dream, close behind
Ill call her my princess of the sand.
song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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3 Legged Races
The insulated melody
Of the dripping spigot
And the restless weather vane
Drops tranquility in fathoms
That can make an ocean
Vast of wondering
Instigating a stride
Into a walk, a haste, where
Another leg is welcomed
Whilst you endure the lack
Of company in the ethereal
Highway of romantic jargons
And the tales in your skin
Ran down like the insulated melodies
Of disquietude devoid of
Tranquility, it flashes down
Like virulent kerosene
Sifting through lacerations
And yearning saliently
To burn the virgin lamentations
Reckon infinitely and
Convince the maladies
To crawl back in the nightmares
That haunts on unconscious states
And vie to steadfast into
The eager eyes riveted
In the horizon where
You belong and these thoughts
Ousted, run in a steady pace
Unencumbered by another leg
And do not trip crumbling
To lose their paces
Into the vale, faceless
poem by Norman Santos
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Footsteps
(l. stansfield/i. devaney/r. darbyshire/f. musker)
Dont give up, youre not alone
Though youre weak and chilled to the bone
I will shore the pain that youre going through
If theres one set of footsteps Ill be carrying you
If theres one
One set of footsteps in the sand
One set of footsteps
If theres one
One set of footsteps in the sand
One set of footsteps
If youre losing faith, Ill understand
Dont be afraid Im holding your hand
If you trust in me then I will be true
If theres one set of footsteps Ill be carrying you
If theres one
One set of footsteps in the sand
One set of footsteps
If theres one
One set of footsteps in the sand
One set of footsteps
Then Im gonna walk on, walk on
Im gonna walk on till the hurt is gone
Walk on, walk on
Im gonna keep going, gonna carry on
Walk on, walk on
Im gonna walk on
Im gonna walk on
Dont give up, youre not alone
Gotta try to be strong, youve got to move on
Just hold on tight and youll make it through
If theres one set of footsteps Ill be carrying you
If theres one
One set of footsteps in the sand
One set of footsteps
If theres one
One set of footsteps in the sand
One set of footsteps
Walk on, walk on
Walk on, walk on
Im gonna walk on till its gone
song performed by by Lisa Stansfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loneliest of All
I suppose my thoughts were always naieve
Believing that when you found that someone
That life would be happy and filled with fun
And, that feeling would remain when she'd leave
Reality set in the day she left
When the joy remained, but sadness set in
Thinking about when I'd see her again
I fear the summer will not be so deft
The irony whipped my heart in a squall
That though I had found the girl of my dreams
And, love, on the horizon, sparkles and gleams
Now she's gone, I'm the loneliest of all
Yet, the horizon nears close everyday
Dear, may we keep this path and never stray
poem by Danny Speicher
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For Papa Gregorio
And then I finally reached
The narrow mouth of the river
That you told me about
And I was left with no choice
But to sail right there
On this wooden boat that you
Left me
I did it and here I am getting on
The sight of an island
A bountiful island with brooks
And green grass and
Coconut trees and
Lanzones trees
I am here finally
In accordance with the maps of your dreams
And tonight
I look at your sky
And I see the hundred smiles
Of your glittering stars
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Footsteps everywhere
the desert
is large as life
one lonely
wide field
for survival
sand and sky
and thorns,
to remind one
of thirst
an occasional
mirage to help us
cope with reality
in between
the footsteps
that go everywhere
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Hourglass Sand
Through the hourglass
watching
grains of sand falling.
I see time slipping by.
To myself I wonder.
Do we pass with such ease
through the hourglass of life?
Like tiny grains of sand cascading?
When that sand has gone.
Does that mean time has stopped
until I turn the glass over?
And the sand again begins to fall.
Through our hourglass
as we pass like grains of sand.
How many frowns can we turn to smiles?
How much good can we make from bad?
When our sand has run out.
Has our time stopped as well?
Who will turn over our hourglass?
Restart our time renew our opportunities?
poem by Kurt Hearth
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The Great Escape
Left alone in a dreary mood,
With none to lean on and look for,
She tethered her soul to sordid gloom,
And chained her fancy, never letting to soar.
Dull were the days and sore were the nights,
Time slouched on in mechanical beats,
Mind devoid of any buoyant thoughts,
Senses shut to every cheery throb of life,
She lay awake, staring on the ceiling above,
Her eyes so lost in a fixed stare,
Never a smile alighted her stony face,
Nor a gleam of hope brightened up her brain.
Inertia crept over from head to foot.
She had long lost her zest for life,
With life saps drained out like an empty well,
She felt nothing but the heat of scorching drought.
Nothing could move her grief laden soul,
None could lift the weight off her back,
Embers of fire sparked from the anvil of her heart,
Heaves of sighs escaped from her parched mouth,
She wriggled and writhed in unspeakable pain,
Her spirits sank deeper into a slithery marsh,
She saw around only a thick pall of gloom,
Or was it a projection of her own self?
Anguish gnawed her nerves and sinews,
Flames of pain danced within her spine,
She felt her head beginning to reel,
And the heavy weight of lead all around her neck.
She felt being pushed down to abysmal depths,
And the octopus tightening its tentacles all around.
Who on earth will set me free?
What on earth can lift me up?
With thundering force the question shook her weary self.
She sprang to her feet and broke loose her chains,
She found she was but in self - exile,
A captive entrapped within boundless space.
She saw the door opening to infinite lengths,
And the arched horizon looming larger than life,
She spread her wings and propelled up,
And darted through the clouds to distant shores.
poem by Valsa George
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In A Time Of Dearth
Before me,
On either side of me,
I see sand.
If I turn the corner of my house,
I see sand,
Long, brown
Lines and levels of flat
Sand.
If I could only see a caravan
Heave over the edge of it:
The camels wobbling and swaying,
Stepping like ostriches,
With rocking palanquins
Whose curtains conceal
Languors and faintnesses,
Muslins tossed aside,
And a disorder of cushions.
The swinging curtains would pique and solace me.
But I only see sand,
Long, brown sand -
Sand.
If I could only see a herd of Arab horses
Galloping,
Their manes and tails pulled straight
By the speed of their going;
Their bodies sleek and round
Like bellying sails.
They would beat the sand with their fore feet,
And scatter it with their hind feet,
So that it whirled in a cloud of orange,
And the sun through it
Was clip-edged, without rays, and dun.
But I only see sand,
Long, brown, hot sand -
Sand.
If I could only see a mirage,
Blue-white at the horizon,
With palm-trees about it;
Tall, windless palm-trees, grouped about a-glitter.
If I could strain toward it,
And think of the water creeping round my ankles,
Tickling under my knees,
Leeching up my sides,
Spreading over my back.
But I only feel the grinding beneath my feet.
And I only see sand,
Long, dry sand,
Scorching sand -
Sand.
If a sand-storm would only come
And spit against my windows,
Snapping upon them, and ringing their vibrations;
Swirling over the roof;
Seeping under the door-jamb;
Suffocating me and making me struggle for air.
But I only see sand -
Sand lying dead in the sun.
Lines and lines of sand -
Sand.
I will paste newspapers over the windows to shut out the sand;
I will fit them into one another, and fasten the corners.
Then I will strike matches
And read of politics and murders and festivals
Three years old.
But I shall not see the sand any more,
And I can read
While my matches last.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Our Children (Paradise Lost)
Look at everything we have done
killing field's of paradise lost
nothing will be left here anymore
for us to carry on
our children weep forever more
Earth destroyed by our own hand
mountains fall, tremble to the sea
people now no longer free
now our children are all gone
was it worth the cost
Blood stain's left in the sand
memories of yesterday
washed away upon the shore
darkened behind clouds of gray
where our children use to play
paradise lost for sure
Dreams vanish in the night
do you still think it was right
when our children no longer
see the setting sun
fade into the horizon
like generations before
paradise now lost forever
Spiritwind-2010
poem by Spiritwind Wood
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Footprints
FOOTPRINTS
In the journey of my life's ups and downs
You accompany me and guide me
With my burdened heart
I see your footprints left in the sand
The footprints you leave behind
Encourage me to go on
My prayers flow like tears
Watching your presence left in the sand
And your care imprinted in my heart
I know you have carried me
My footprints I cannot see
You want me to be happy, fulfilled and free
To complete the works you have begun on me.
poem by Meggie Gultiano
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A Million Days
It's only been a hour since U left me
But it feels like a million days
If Eye had a magic wand eye could turn back time
Eye'd never let U go away
Eye didn't have the heart 2 say eye'm sorry
Now eye haven't got a heart at all
Eye could tolerate the pain if eye could talk 2 my best friend
But U won't even call
Eye'm contemplating pulling out my suitcase
And packing everything eye own
Eye didn't back then but eye do know now
Wherever U r is home
Eye'll crawl on my belly and beg U
But Ur so far away
U've only been gone 4 an hour
But it seems like a million days
It's only been a hour since U left me
Eye wish eye had somebody 2 blame
But Ur the perfect picture of what love should look like
And eye wanna b Ur frame
It's only been a hour but it feels like a million days
A million days
One hundred thousand million days
Come home, come home baby
Eye can't take this no more
Well, come home baby oh yeah
Baby, eye know eye shouldn't put my faith in heroes
But eye can't c U any other way
It's only been a hour since U left me girl
Feels like a million, feels like a million days
Come home baby
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mad Man Moon
Was it summer when the river ran dry,
Or was it just another dam.
When the evil of a snowflake in june
Could still be a source of relief.
O how I love you, I once cried long ago,
But I was the one who decided to go.
To search beyond the final crest,
Though Id heard it said just birds could dwell so high.
So I pretended to have wings for my arms
And took off in the air.
I flew to places which the clouds never see,
Too close to the deserts of sand,
Where a thousand mirages, the shepherds of lies
Forced me to land and take a disguise.
I would welcome a horses kick to send me back
If I could find a horse not made of sand.
If this deserts all therell ever be
Then tell me what becomes of me.
A fall of rain?
That must have been another of your dreams,
A dream of mad man moon.
Hey man,
Im the sand man.
And boy have I news for you;
Theyre gonna throw you in gaol
And you know they cant fail
cos sand is thicker than blood.
But a prison in sand
Is a haven in hell,
For a gaol can give you a goal
[and a] goal can find you a role
On a muddy pitch in newcastle,
Where it rains so much
You cant wait for a touch
Of sun and sand, sun and sand...
Within the valley of shadowless death
They pray for thunderclouds and rain,
But to the multitude who stand in the rain
Heaven is where the sun shines.
The grass will be greener till the stems turn to brown
And thoughts will fly higher till the earth brings them down.
Forever caught in desert lands one has to learn
To disbelieve the sea.
If this deserts all therell ever be
Then tell me what becomes of me.
A fall of rain?
That must have been another of your dreams,
A dream of mad man moon.
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Question For You?
i ask the wind
when will i ever see you again?
and the clouds hear it and then
the sun shines telling it is when the clear day comes again
and then i wait and there is rain for days and days.
on a clear day, the sun shines the flowers bloom and i wait again
there is no you, not even a shadow, and i left
the sun, the wind, the rain, the clouds
they have nothing to give for my quest for answers,
useless metaphors, broken promises, empty poems
shattered dreams
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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