A Boring Issue About A Demise....
somehow the fear of
our end
becomes too familiar and boring
it occurring
almost daily when we are flogged
like donkeys
as we carry our loads of bricks
death gets boring sometimes
like that same movie that we watch
all the days of the week
when we finally meet it in the street
or in the room
you say nothing at all
it's not a pest, it is just an ordinary dust
a tiny frog that gets inside your room from nowhere
you pick it up and say alright
'i have no right to refuse, take me, i am ready'
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Boring Lonely Day
What to do
On a boring lonely day?
How to have something to do
To keep the blues away?
I have got my papers sorted
And I am faced with a lonely boring day.
I cleaned my home yesterday.
From having a good and fun day,
I am thwarted.
The songs only make me sadder
I am having a boring lonely day.
All my games bore me now
Even when I win, it is a lonely boring day.
Having nothing to do
Makes for a boring lonely day.
And no one to do nothing with
That's the cause of the lonely boring day.
Now that I know the cause
Of my lonely boring days,
I can do something without pause
To cure my boring lonely days.
poem by Lonely People Champion
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Saw You In The Crowd
I saw you in the crowd
I saw you singing out loud
The people were swaying
The band was playing
Something real loud
I couldnt hear one word
Screams were all that I heard
But I saw her face
I saw her eyes
I saw his grace
In the darkning skies
I saw you raise your hand
Stretching out to the band
You reach exceeding your grasp
On the beach from the whale
Comes one last gasp
Meet me in my hotel room
Meet me just for fun
And I will not be boring
Some things I been storing
Inside to show someone like you
A few friends just stopped by
I think they wanted to get high
But it wasnt you
Who they led me to
So I bid them all good-bye
I probably would forget
This episode of regret
So I wrote this song
So when you sing along
I hope my message you will get
Meet me in my hotel room
Oh, meet me just for fun
And you will not be boring
Something you been storing
Inside to show someone like me
Gordon gano: vocal, guitar
Brian ritchie: bass guitar, electric piano
Guy hoffman: drums, vocal
Recorded and mixed by david vartanian at dvs perversion room, milwuakee, wi
gorno music reprinted with permission
song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Learning To Ride
learning to ride
whatever
you always have
a fear an attempt
and a fall
from time to time
wherever whenever
so normal
falling and
hurting yourself
after trial & error
riding becomes
too familiar
and you like it
maybe but for
a time
riding is nothing
but a thing
we always do
because we simply
have to
then just as when
the fear is lost
you sleep & leave
the excitement
you take
things as daily
boring matters
and there you
lose
the grip of cautiousness
about what was
once exciting &
even fearful
that is when
the accident happened
the time
when everything
is so normal
routinary
boring
you may even
kill yourself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Think
Wait wait wait
You never wanna wait
Wait wait wait
Slow down
Stop and think
Think think think
You never wanna think
Cause everything
Could it be a dream
Another bad dream
So I drink, drink, drink
I'm putting down the drink
Cause I can't feel a thing
Cause every time you say goodbye
I've seen that look a thousand times
There's no more room left inside
It's gonna be alright
It's gonna be alright
Fear fear fear
Just don't be afraid
Afraid afraid afraid
Watch the tube and waste
Waste waste away the days
Flush it down the drain
Cause every time you say goodbye
I've seen that look a thousand times
There's no more room left inside
And every time you say good night
I love to watch you close your eyes
There's no more pain left inside
It's gonna be alright
It's gonna be alright
It's gonna be alright
It's gonna be alright
It's gonna be alright
Hate hate hate
You always gotta hate
Cause every time you say goodbye
I've seen that look a thousand times
There's no more room left inside
And every time you say good night
I love to watch you close your eyes
There's no more pain left inside
It's gonna be alright
It's gonna be alright
It's gonna be alright
It's gonna be alright
song performed by by Puddle Of Mudd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scotch Rhapsody
Do not take a bath in Jordan, Gordon,
On the holy Sabbath, on the peaceful day! '
Said the huntsman, playing on his old bagpipe,
Boring to death the pheasant and the snipe —
Boring the ptarmigan and grouse for fun —
Boring them worse than a nine-bore gun.
Till the flaxen leaves where the prunes are ripe,
Heard the tartan wind a-droning in the pipe,
And they heard Macpherson say:
'Where do the waves go? What hotels
Hide their bustles and their gay ombrelles?
And would there be room? —
Would there be room?
Would there be room
for
me?
There is a hotel at Ostend
Cold as the wind, without an end,
Haunted by ghostly poor relations
Of Bostonian conversations
(Like bagpipes rotting through the walls.)
And there the pearl-ropes fall like shawls
With a noise like marine waterfalls.
And 'Another little drink wouldn't do us any harm! '
Pierces through the Sabbatical calm.
And that is the place for me!
So do not take a bath in Jordan, Gordon,
On the holy Sabbath, on the peaceful day —
Or you'll never go to heaven, Gordon Macpherson,
And speaking purely as a private person
That is the place
— that is the place
— that is the
place
for
me!
poem by Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell
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There's a story everywhere. Being bored to death someplace is basically a funny proposition. What you have to watch out for is you don't write a boring story about a boring place.
quote by Tim Cahill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If something is boring after two minutes, try it for four. If still boring, then eight. Then sixteen. Then thirty-two. Eventually one discovers that it is not boring at all.
In daily dying to ourselves
In daily dying to ourselves
As we pain
Each day, each minute,
We get used to dying
And every death that comes
Close to our skins
Whichever is it
As there are many of them
At the end
Not a death that comes
Really matters.
And so the stress is gone
In fact, we start to welcome
It like a guest,
The invited one, we even
Ask it to stay
And be home with us.
Little deaths here and there
Each is real, nothing frightens anymore.
And death becomes
So boring so common so tiny to tinker
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bordom
Sitting
Nothing
No sound
Not even the dog in the back
Then a song comes up
Same ol song
Never ending
I just keep pushing play
Thinking
What will tomarrow be like
Nothing
Same ol life
Same ol thing
Nothing changing
Not even the song
Not the dog barking
Not the creaks and cracks of the haunted floor
Not the feel of someone watching
Not the wish of something else
Nothing changeing ever
I guess nothing silent
Just every same thing
Boring
Im lost in bordom
Ready lets push play
dododo
Same ol song
Nothing changeing
Everything the same
Boring life
No Change
Rarely ever
Boring life
click clack
same ol anoying keyboard
Sound coming barely over that boring song
Does anything change
Or is life ment to be Boring
Dull
Nothing life
Was that a sound?
Phone ring?
Some one home?
Or is the nothing boring life getting to me?
Am I going insane?
Still no change
Nothing at all
Push play again
March 2006
poem by Jessie Li here
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All God does is watch us and kill us when we get boring. We must never, ever be boring.
quote by Chuck Palahniuk
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Will Be More
there will be more things
coming inside me
staying there
and day by day i carry more weight
perhaps something
that i can no longer carry
the furies of the uncertain world
they come too
inside my brain
there is no more love that my heart can carry
i will have some ankles broken
and i may be compelled
to kneel before them
there will be more loads to carry
do not think
that i am unbreakable
beyond the limit you will see me vomit
you may even see me
dissipate into air
with no telltales
of who i am and what i have finally become
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Refuse
Everythings heaven sent
Thats what you said and went
Inside your fairy glass
Somethin you think will last
And when they crop you like a clown
You got your smile on upside down
B-baby I refuse
(I do refuse)
Uh, you can pick or choose
(I do refuse)
Find omebody else to use
(I do refuse)
cause I refuse to come along
And everythings on a whim
Thats what you said to him
Lyin in wunderlust
Are feelings you never trust
And when they pamper you with ice
I cant believe you dont think twice
Uh baby I refuse
(I do refuse)
Uh, you can pick or choose
(I do refuse)
Find somebody else to use
(I do refuse)
cause I refuse to come along
And everyone makes the play
With nothing left much to say
Theyre all in an endless line
Waiting for equal time
They keep screaming its the truth
And you keep kneelin in the booth
Oh baby I refuse
(I do refuse)
Uh, you can pick or choose
(I do refuse)
Find somebody else to use
(I do refuse)
cause I refuse to come along
Oh, I do refuse
(I do refuse)
Oh, you got nothin to lose
(I do refuse)
Find somebody else to use
(find somebody else to use)
(I do refuse)
cause I refuse to come along
I refuse
(I do refuse)
Ah, oo-oo
(I do refuse)
(find somebody else to use)
(I do refuse)
cause I refuse to come along
I refuse
(I do refuse)
Oo, oh got nothin to lose
(I do refuse)
(find somebody else to use)
(I do refuse)
[fade]
song performed by by Cars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Big Room
Welcome to the big room
Everything's alright.
People, welcome to the big room
'Cause everything's alright.
It's alright,
It's alright, It's alright.
Don't have no cameras in the big room
Too much for one lens to see.
Don't allow no cameras in the big room.
Too much for one lens to see.
It's alright,
It's alright, It's alright.
There's always tellers in the big room.
Every day and every night.
There's always tellers in the big room.
Every day and every night.
It's alright,
It's alright, It's alright.
There's always dancing in the big room,
Every day and every night.
There's always dancing in the big room,
Every day and every night.
It's alright,
It's alright, It's alright.
There's always tellin' in the big room,
Every day and every night.
There's always tellin' in the big room,
Every day and every night.
It's alright,
It's alright, It's alright.
Yeah, people, welcome to the big room
Everything's alright.
People, welcome to the big room
Everything's alright.
It's alright,
It's alright, It's alright.
Yeah, people, welcome to the big room
Leave your troubles at the door.
People, welcome to the big room
Leave your troubles at the door.
It's alright,
It's alright, It's alright.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Social Isolation
I try to talk to you,
but you turn and walk away.
Am I really that boring,
is the life I have not valuable to you?
Thinking you would listen to me,
now I sit in my room knowing that i'm trying so hard,
but my social isolation seems to be killing me inside.
poem by David Lomenick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Welcome To The Big Room
Welcome to the big room
Everythings alright.
People, welcome to the big room
cause everythings alright.
Its alright, its alright, its alright.
Dont have no cameras in the big room
Too much for one lens to see.
Dont allow no cameras in the big room.
Too much for one lens to see.
Its alright, its alright, its alright.
Theres always tellers in the big room.
Every day and every night.
Theres always tellers in the big room.
Every day and every night.
Its alright, its alright, its alright.
Theres always dancing in the big room,
Every day and every night.
Theres always dancing in the big room,
Every day and every night.
Its alright, its alright, its alright.
Theres always tellin in the big room,
Every day and every night.
Theres always tellin in the big room,
Every day and every night.
Its alright, its alright, its alright.
Yeah, people, welcome to the big room
Everythings alright.
People, welcome to the big room
Everythings alright.
Its alright, its alright, its alright.
Yeah, people, welcome to the big room
Leave your troubles at the door.
People, welcome to the big room
Leave your troubles at the door.
Its alright, its alright, its alright.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inside That Room
inside that room
clutters of old things
a conglomeration of dusts
silent stones
broken wedges
blunt shapes and sharp edges
inside that room
that silence we both shared
isolated moans
tongues lingering
inside that room
our memories
now the door is closed.
inside that room
the noise of insistence
the clap of a disaster
we disown
inside that room
the impregnation of tough thoughts
with soft laces
of ductile memories
inside that room
oh! there is no
us anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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0031 Beyond the Bounds
Oh it’s there, alright
and very much all right
although ‘there’ is not at all the word
for where it is – or isn’t –
all I can say is,
it’s ‘beyond’ –
beyond all the knowledge I’ve acquired,
beyond the life I love to live,
beyond the happiest of happiness..
I used to fear ‘beyond’, to fear
the boundlessness –
and yet, between
(and somehow, the between
and the beyond seem real good friends) –
between the thoughts –
the thoughts of what I want, or don’t,
the things I want, the things I don’t, then
in the stillness and the silence
which I used to shout ‘boring! ’ at
and run away and play –
it calls, it yearns; the boundlessness
speaks as familiar as myself
oh it’s 'there' all right –
how could I know, unless
they were together linked in inner sight –
the bounded and the boundlessness?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Inside This Room I Eat Fear
inside this dark room
it is only you who will be afraid
i am not
i will never be like you
i am ready for what can be touched in the dark
i do not mind what they are
i have nothing to lose
because i have nothing to give
inside this dark room
i eat fear and i am always a hungry man
nothing satisfies me
did i not tell you about this once?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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129
Perhaps to Basho the twins are boring
He himself does not want
To be imitated
Too boring like
A melon cut into half
Mirroring each other
Aren’t these twins
Boring?
Or Basho was just envious
He may be a poet of his age
But his poems never bore
Him a son
Or a mirror of his own face.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Am Never The Best In Anything
I AM NEVER THE BEST IN ANYTHING
I am never the best in anything
Sometimes I am second best
Often I am just mediocre.
A second son
I am never more than second
In all I do.
As I write this poem
I think of many
More rich in metaphor
More wise in complex rhyme
More dazzling in vocabulary
Deeper in Beauty and Meaning
Than me.
Second best, mediocre
Maybe worse
The poet of endless literal complaints
About his own poetry.
Boring boring boring
Second best
Second rate
Not great.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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