A Breather
i know
no one reads this
attentively like
a boarding pass
of the plane
to know clearly
what gate
what seat
this is just a
memorandum of
a past experience
not really mine
but perhaps
of some other
passenger of this
life's aircraft
towards another
journey
you do not read
because you are
preoccupied with
something else:
a study
a letter from a friend
or mother
who is sick from
the province
or a brother who is
seeking
financial help
or a directive from
a boss in the
office where you
are working
for most of the time
of your life
however, if you read
this one
somehow you pass
a certain place
that reminds you about
nothing
and makes you
empty minded for a while
void
and then you become
ready for
another fill
all you need
is another breath
for each word
the air that fills
your lungs
because you
are getting
too crowded
with almost
every chatter
deep within
that grave that
slowly buries you
in a soil
layer by layer
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Principal's Office
Now as I get to school I hear the late bell ringing,
runnning through the halls, I hear the glee club singing,
and as I get to the office I can hardly speak,
cause it's the third late pass that I got this week,
so to my first class I run and don't walk,
all I hear is my sneakers and the scratching of chalk,
and as I get to the room I hear the teacher say,
Mr. Young I'm very happy you could join us today,
I try to sit down so I can take some notes,
but I can't read what the kind next to me wrote,
and if that wasn't enough to make my morning complete,
as I try to get up, I find this gum on my seat,
so with the seat stuck to me, I raised my hand,
and said, exscuse me but can I go to the bathroom, maam?
the teacher got upset, and she screamed out no,
it's off the principal's office you go,
Verse 2:
12 o'clock comes with mass hysteria,
everybody rushes down to the cafeteria,
picked up my tray to have Thursday's lunch,
and as I tried the apple sauce, I heard it crunch,
I'm running up the stairs with my front tooth broken,
the nurse just laughed, and said you must be joking,
I looked up at her with a smile on my face,
no joke 'cause my front tooth is out of place,
so I walked to school with ice on my lip,
the nurse's late pass like a gun on my hip,
my books are real heavey, I'm walking, I'm dragging,
ain't no school lunch next week, I'm brown-bagging it,
forget class, I'm a shoot some ball,
with the late pass I got no trouble at all,
but then the nurse walks up and says what do you know,
it's office to the prinicipal's office you go
recess
Verse 3:
passing notes is my favorite pass time,
I can't wait to find a girl to pass mine to,
to express my feelings,
give me a week B, and the girl' be dealing,
now one young lady was looking at me,
I said hi my name is Marvin, known as Young MC,
but then the ball rang, and the teacher came in,
and that's when the game of passin notes would begin,
I wrote the first note, told her she was fine,
and I hoped that the two of us could spend some time,
she wrote me back and told me you're fine too,
I'd love to go on a date and spend some time with you,
so then I sat there reeling, and looking at the ceiling,
words can't express the way that I was feeling,
then I though to myself, the sure way to get her,
is to write another note, oh yes, a love letter,
when I finished the note, it was ready to pass,
the teacher took it, and read it right in front of the class,
she read it word-by-word and line-by-line,
and everybody who was laughing was a friend of mine,
even then my girl was laughing, and it was too late,
for me to write another note 'cause there would be no date,
the teacher looked at me, and I said I know,
it's off to the principal's office I go,
yo, you think this is bad, wait til I get my report card
song performed by by Young MC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Purpose In Life
Some people as they pass me by, live each day and know not why,
Why they deal with the daily strife, or the true meaning of their life.
Their purpose in life is not clear, or why on earth they’re even here.
Many of them accepted the lie, that you go nowhere when you die.
To then everyday is the same, only each day has a different name.
And the weeks, they don’t change, a different week is still the same.
As their weeks turn into months, they question life’s true relevance.
And as the months turn into years, the end of this life slowly nears.
There is nothing in their past, or nothing ahead they think will last.
If any of this seems to describe, any feelings that you have inside,
You can instead fill your life, with a purpose that is found in Christ.
He will enter your life my friend, and give you direction and an end.
This end is only found in Christ, for this end in Him is Eternal Life.
The direction that your life will take, fills the void, make no mistake.
Friend, even if your life is amiss, Christ will give it Eternal Purpose.
Make Christ your Lord and Savior, and He’ll give you a new nature.
You’ll have no more empty days, as Christ fills the void with praise.
Friend you’ll have no Misgivings, as life in Christ is life worth living.
For when you are Heaven bound, a new joy on this earth is found.
And far from that eternal abyss, in the end you enter Eternal Bliss.
Layer and Layer of dynamite
when teaching of peace
in religion is overtaken
by narrow minded bigotry
when religion fails to work
its primary function, to spread love
layer and layer of suspicion
and hatred start to grow
in the hearts of different faiths
they work like dynamite
and more destructive
than an atom bomb
when detonated, for years
the fires remain burning
invisible but ever ready
like embers to flay into
the worse of flames
the issue of race when
played out for political gains
hatred and suspicion
between the peoples
start to work like layer and layer
of dynamite in a bomb
ever ready to detonate,
burn, scar, and tear
down the basic foundation
of society
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Layers Of My Existence
peel me, not like an onion where you shall cry for every
layer, no, i do not require tears here, at most, you may need
only to smile, and then be so patient, as you peel me
layer by layer, as i watch, and as you carefully peel me
with your bare hands, i will allow it, all for you and your
curiousity,
you discover the erotic layer
and in there exists the desire
for an adventure, the disregarding
of sin, and then peel me further
move on,
find the layer of my
intellect, you shall find what i have
told you all about, my nerves and
common sense, my strivings to go
deeper towards my self, and then
peel me further, you see the bone
of my contentions, my hardened
principles and uncompromises
then peel me further, find the
marrow that makes all the blood
of my life, my sorrows and pains,
my exhilarations and bliss and
joys and happiness, and you will
say there is nothing more to find.
you are wrong. There is this last
peel that you cannot see. It is like
air, and it floats and it gets in,
it always finds an empty space,
and you cannot find it there anymore,
it is now inside you and you cannot
get that out of your system
you must accept this:
i have become
an essential part of you, and there is
nothing now that you can do.
you see, in peeling me, you find
no exit anymore. Whether you
you will be happy or sad, it is
already beyond my control.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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At The Core Of My Being
a cake with white
icing, some sugar
red roses and
confectioner leaves
of green around
the chocolate cake
layer upon layer
to give an impression
of fullness and
solidity,
at the core is the
softness of air bubbles
trapped within,
something is empty
so soft, something like
a void unaffected still
by heat and time.
that is what i am
and i love it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Seeing a Clearer Me
layer by layer
i peel so that
like a glass
you can view me
crystal clear as a virgin river
a polished diamond
decades of
practice for those
seasoned fingers
to strike at her core
to bring out those few
beethoven scores
he tuned up the world for
a great watch maker
filing his cog to tighten time
the precision of mind
to keep a universal lie at bay
verse by verse
layer by layer
i peel to get to
the sheen the almighty
laid hidden in me
layer by layer
i peel off the world
to see a clearer me
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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God Will
“God will” we read all over His Word, Truth to us that can be inferred,
Into the lives of both me and you, for what God says, God shall do,
For everywhere we read “God will”, The Lord above will indeed fulfill,
As God fulfills every jot and tittle, working in all things, big and little.
Everywhere these words are read, in Scripture, He’ll do what He said,
All of Scripture, which we read, especially “God will” we should heed,
For God shall finish His Will and Plan, in the life of every single man,
As on this His Earth, every single life, will be judged by Jesus Christ.
God is Love, but must be just, His unchanging character all can trust,
God will show His Justice my friend, all men shall see in the very end,
Even though amoral forces assail, God’s ultimate justice shall prevail,
For He is God and as God must be, true to His Nature, for all will see.
Men will change, but God will never, as God’s Word shall last forever,
God’s Will and Purpose always suits, His Timeless, Eternal attributes,
In spite of what men believe and say, and while earth shall pass away,
God’s Attributes and Will together, remain unaltered, now and forever.
God’s Righteousness will one day fill, a New Earth, as God said it will,
Though God’s Judgment soon will fall, grace and mercy is open to all,
By knowing God and all that He said, we’re filled with hope, not dread,
As God will sound the trumpet for us, to take us home to Christ Jesus.
(Copyright ©03/2011)
Faces and layers of faces
At first, this is the face I will show you
Shallow, thin, smooth
Then we feel each other, like some kind of
New found friends, I
Take another layer, and tell you, this is my face,
Some scars, and lines of age, and furrows,
Then we write many emails, and remember
Common things, like a certain familiarity,
Another layer is taken and exposed,
The face of a sick man, with some
Disappointments in his mind,
Some wounds, wrinkles, and so you
Think, are there other layers of faces still
To show,
Deeper, deeper is there another layer to show
Another face of this man?
Yes, there is another layer, more faces
Hidden underneath each layer,
As we go on, learning from ourselves,
And me learning from myself,
I will be digging for more faces,
Because I am never static
I am growing, and for each growth
Like molting
Another face comes out
Soon, I hope, I must come out
With the most beautiful face
The we can be both proud of,
It is just a matter of time
Depending on how well you have loved me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thirteen
At first, this is the face I will show you
Shallow, thin, smooth
Then we feel each other, like some kind of
New found friends, I
Take another layer, and tell you, this is my face,
Some scars, and lines of age, and furrows,
Then we write many emails, and remember
Common things, like a certain familiarity,
Another layer is taken and exposed,
The face of a sick man, with some
Disappointments in his mind,
Some wounds, wrinkles, and so you
Think, are there other layers of faces still
To show,
Deeper, deeper is there another layer to show
Another face of this man?
Yes, there is another layer, more faces
Hidden underneath each layer,
As we go on, learning from ourselves,
And me learning from myself,
I will be digging for more faces,
Because I am never static
I am growing, and for each growth
Like molting
Another face comes out
Soon, I hope, I must come out
With the most beautiful face
The we can be both proud of,
It is just a matter of time
Depending on how well you have loved me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Dear Brother
LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY FATHER
LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY MOTHER
THEY ONLY HAD TWO CHILDRENS A SISTER AND A BROTHER
BUT FATHER HAD PASS AWAY NOW
MOTHER ALSO WHENT ONE DAY TO
THAT JUST LEFT ME AND A BROTHER
AND WE WHENT ARE SEPARATE WAY TOO
10 YEARS HE CHOOSE THE JAIL LIFE
IHE NEVER CAME BACK HOME
NEW JERSEY FOR MY BROTHER
WE WERE BORN TO ROAM
WITH LETTER AND WITH PICTURES
WE ALWAYS KEEP IN TOUCH
MISSING GROW UP TOGETHER
AND THINGS THAT MEANT SO MUCH
MAYBE WRITTING DOWN THIS POEM
IN MY OWN AND SIMPLE WAYS
WILL TELL HIM ABOUT MY FEELINGS
I NEVER GOT TO SAY
BUT HOW YOU PUT ON A PAPER
THAT U REALLY MISS HIM,
OF ALL THE TIME THAT PASS WITHOUT YOUR BIG BROTHER
FROM IN MY HEART I FOUND THIS POEM
AND HOPE HE KNOWS ITS TRUE
WITH ONLY FOUR SMALL WORDS
BROTHER 'I LOV3 YOU! ! ! '
Turbulence
layer upon layer
pounding out
justification,
charged and ready to strike,
cold winds blow,
bright rains ache
ready to flow.
poem by Steven Federle
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Bradley
Listen to me,
For, i am talking to you;
And like the muse of love in the great deep!
But, who is ready to help the afflicted souls?
Laid,
Layer over layer! !
But, my name is Bradley;
And, i am talking to you!
So, take in the positive acts and eliminate out the negative.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Life Is Like A Book
Life is like a book
Written by Selvin ‘Ewan’ McRae
Life is like an open book
Can, t predict the future
Got to read between the lines
Absorbing the culture
Get ready for tomorrow
Life is love
Love can becomes hate
Hate can becomes sorrow
Review your past
Get ready for tomorrow
Flip the pages, turn the chapters
Grasp the contents, form your character
Decipher life’s journey and rule your destiny
Get ready for tomorrow
Slowly turn the pages
Don, t read too fast
Acknowledge the acknowledgements
Good friendship will last
Get ready for tomorrow
What you reap is what you sow
Don, t assume make sure to know
Erase dark memories,
Cherish those that glows
Get ready for tomorrow
poem by Selvin Mcrae
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Verses From God
I’m just the pen; God is the ink, Who fills me as I write and think,
And God’s ink never runs dry, as it flows from His Spirit on high.
Penning verse that never ends, as He talks to a world of friends,
As I go to God in prayer, He pens down each blessing and care.
In a trial God helps me through, He pens verse to share with you,
And the blessing He brings my way, as He helps me, day to day.
As I write every word and line, I do not claim the verses as mine,
For as the pen to page is pressed, it is my heart that is blessed.
Blessing seem to come my way, as He helps me, in what to say,
To illustrate to all those who read, that Jesus is The Lord indeed.
His Words just seem to flow, not knowing where His idea will go,
But His point He makes every time, as God speaks on each line.
He draws from deep inside, my heart, where His Scriptures hide,
Always used at the proper place, to pen down a verse of Grace.
And as the page begins to fill, it is not my poem, but God’s will,
That fills lines with His Word, which some who read, never heard.
It’s God above who fills my pen, with words for the eyes of men,
By means of only poetic verse, to claim victory, over sin’s curse.
The page is filled by God above, with true examples of His Love,
Penning Truth for men to see, He’s a God who loves you and me.
(Copyright ©08/2007)
Chant For Dark Hours
Some men, some men
Cannot pass a
Book shop.
(Lady, make your mind up, and wait your life away.)
Some men, some men
Cannot pass a
Crap game.
(He said he'd come at moonrise, and here's another day!)
Some men, some men
Cannot pass a
Bar-room.
(Wait about, and hang about, and that's the way it goes.)
Some men, some men
Cannot pass a
Woman.
(Heaven never send me another one of those!)
Some men, some men
Cannot pass a
Golf course.
(Read a book, and sew a seam, and slumber if you can.)
Some men, some men
Cannot pass a
Haberdasher's.
(All your life you wait around for some damn man!)
poem by Dorothy Parker
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Life is like an onion: you peel off layer after layer and then you find there is nothing in it.
quote by James Huneker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Layer by layer art strips life bare.
quote by Robert Musil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Murmur Upon A Self During The Party Meeting Some Unauthentic People On The Row
most of the time
we hide anger
about almost
anything
to anyone
and we say hello
ask
how's life doing
and go to the
details about
their kids
and dogs
and then the conversation
moves on
like a home
pet, a bird, a vine
that we
hang and
see and appreciate
upon all these common
denominators of
i own this one
and i am
happy with what i have
and shall
leave to this earth
layer upon layer
the talk
settles like
we are all the same
but somehow
some rise above the
rights to property
higher
than what the state
can take pride of
as though
this world has no end
as though
this is the only
place
permanent
everlasting
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Come To Him
I come to The Lord Jesus Christ; He gives to me a brand new life.
New Life in Christ from up above; the gift of God’s Awesome Love.
I bring to The Lord my life of sin, and He cleanses me deep within.
Cleansed by the Blood of Christ; the cleansing blood for every life.
I come to Him with a contrite heart, and God gives me a new start.
It’s the start of a brand new life, one centered around Jesus Christ.
I pray to God on bended knees, and Christ fills me with His peace.
That peace secured at Calvary, where Jesus died for you and me.
I come to Him with a heart of grief; God gives to me amazing relief.
He lifts the burden from my heart, and sinful ways begin to depart.
I come to Christ with no Hope, and He gives to me power to cope.
A power for this earthly race; supplied by God’s Awesome Grace.
I believe The Word as I hear it, and God gives me The Holy Spirit.
And The Holy Spirit I did receive, the very moment that I believed.
I surrender my life to Christ above, and God fills me with His Love.
Love to help me share The Word, until Truth, all men have heard.
I stand in need of His correction, and He gives me a new direction.
He forgives my past wicked life, and puts me on a path with Christ.
I come to Him out of empty strife, and He gives to me Eternal Life.
This empty world will pass away, but with Christ, I will forever stay.
You can come to Him my friend, and have yourself a better end,
If you would just believe in Christ, He too, will enter into your life.
God will forgive your sinful past, and give you a life that will last,
Life that will last for Eternity, where with Christ you’ll forever be.
N4
my theory lives thru
as you have said it: these are all lies
lies and more lies
and you know them all to be lies,
but as you said it,
you begin to understand the truth
beneath these lies
a layer of grass
another layer of flowers
another layer of clouds
beneath is the niche
burying the nuggets of
my own wisdom, how i live my life
and justify it later
before God, shall all lies be
truths
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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