A Guideline To Readers
if you really want to be with me
i can sacrifice your presence like a lamb burned so the gods may smell the reality
of the smoke of death and pain and
sorrow
we can be together in all these realities
the first pact is: acceptance
you see what you get and you get what you see
as simple as that
no tricks no magic
plain hands nothing rubbery or plastic
we do not expect anything
in here there is no disappointment of what should have been or ought to be
anyway
the agreement reached is the voluntarism of our two wills
you invite yourself
and i invite you to invite me in return
we live in one house with only one door the getting in
we have two windows our two views on every matter presented by nature everyday
the sun in the morning the moon at night and some stars as bonus or the wind
and the trees, all these cliches of reality less the complicating ones those
sophistication of
sophistry and those fingers of an octal arguments
we are tired we ought to know better than tired
we make a river of course to justify our thirst for bridges
and some boats for easy rides
the paddles can come later when we are ready to learn to swim
whatever that
comes first in our mind shall all be welcome guests
no barrier no social mores no restrictions no exclusions
that is the rule here
openness of the roof and soon there will be no roof even
then we have a garden of grass and stones delineated well by the aid of
the grace of our imagination
more words that do not really help
but we tolerate it anyway to keep things going like a line of cars waiting for the go signal
did you hear the drivers sing? did you notice the silent passengers afraid that
we will cheat them into these useless endeavor to keep on talking
though
we really mean nothing?
stupidity is a trail a tail of the rainbow where actually there is no pot of gold out there
it is trail that we all are taking now and yet
we refuse to stop we refuse to recognize that we are all fools
who take pride that we are the only ones who change our minds
and then we call ourselves
wise people.
i step out of the line and i am going somewhere because as you see
i am all dressed up as though i am dying.
do not follow me, you do not know me, i may be dangerous.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The sky and stars
The sky is studded with bright stars
Though with little shine but very far
Beyond my imagination and reach
I still go for it and try as such
I find teenagers on line
All beautifully dressed and looking fine
Red cheeks and face with beautiful shine
May not refuse if you politely invite to dine
They may have compelling reasons
It is possible the change might have been caused by seasons
There is boom in garden and flowers smile
All in different colors and zoom in air for while
One such flower appealed me a lot
She was not favorite or but preferred somewhat
It was different from others with lots of appeal
I went very close and urge to pick could not repeal
It presented a very wide smile
I had dread of such a flower for a while
Even though I was aging very fast
An urge from within could not die or last
“How nice, a beautiful presentation but can’t be mine”
I was slipping in sweet memory but got afraid of famine
Will this beauty may die soon or taken away?
Is there no other option open in my way?
There were whispering notes from near by
Flowers of different colors were showing their hands with bye
I was struck there with lots of confusion
I was overpowered with zeal and infusion
I must have at least one to accompany in life
I shall give the beautiful name as wife
Not all flowers are to be seen later on
As nice one has been picked to follow on
The whole garden seemed to me like universe
Heard all applauses for good work and no curse
I had some apprehensions in mind for selfish approach
I found nothing in particular as such
As I said all members are in their teens
Some may be hardly fifteens or sixteen
All out to find their match and very keen
To see the out side world on colorful screen
I offered my love to such beautiful queen
I presumed she was for quite long or even longer may have been
I do not know what had happened to her in between?
But she was desperate even though remained unseen
I thought for a while and decided not to fall
Such relation may be untimely and invite great fall
It would be advisable to go for matured relation
It may be healthy and more over good indication
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The passage wayto happiness
The passage way to happiness,
Isn't the trail to follow,
It doesn't take you anywhere,
But leads you to sorrow.
Theres no trail of happiness,
Only the people that surrounds you,
The only people that will make you smile,
Are the people you know and follow.
The passage way to happiness,
Isn't something to look for,
Something like that doesn't seem so real,
But only in the shows we love to watch.
Don't blieve in what people tell you,
That theres a trail that leads you to happiness,
They just wanna see you smile....
The passage way to happiness,
In nothing near reality,
But the people around you say its true,
And they say its somewhere around the world.
Dont go around this world,
Just to find that lonely trail of happiness,
Cause you will never find it,
I dont mean to mean so mean,
BUt I'm just tell you the truth,
But theres no way to find a trail of happiness,
If its not even true.
The passage way to happiness,
Is only in your imagination,
You think its so real,
Just beacause people say its true.
Who would you truly believe,
Yourself or the people that surrounds you,
When it comes to that,
I would rely on myself,
Not on the company of others.
The passage way to happiness,
Is a figment of my imagination,
But the reality of my friends are real,
Since they make me laugh and smile,
When they see me sad.
My peers really know me,
Since they are always so concerned,
When I'm feeling down,
They have a way to make me smile,
Thats my passage way of happiness,
But theres no trail for me to follow.
poem by Gothic Fairy Princess
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From The Terrace
White house
brown roof
windows with outsretched arms
speak to my eyes
urging acceptance
Walls lift roof to gray sky
breeze flowing through the columns
floor, not for walking
but for ascending
request my steps
to be uplifted
Arches curve upwards
and downwards
dancing like the waves
invite me to join
all is in place
all agog with excitement
My soul flutters
knees buckle
and answer no
to House built with greed
not sweat of labour
Here I stay
on the terrace
watching house
not Home
blocks and roof
not sweat and contentment
poem by Mark Nwagwu
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In the spirit of Rumi - 35 - Three answers
I asked the passing strangers
in the fine street of the wise,
‘Tell me about your Self itself’
The first man said to me
‘It is like a rose garden
planted around a fountain –
it is always beautiful,
changing, yet unchanging;
it is the very centre
of my peace and rest…’
The second man said to me
‘It is like a treasure house of riches –
full of more sparkling, deep-coloured jewels
than anyone’s imagination
could ever begin to describe;
as beautiful as anything
in heaven or on earth…’
The third man said to me
‘It is like a mine of gold and silver
where you only have to dig
and there is always more to find…’
To the first man I said
‘You are indeed blest,
O noble sir… and must have earned yourself
this great honour…tell me,
do you invite every passing stranger
to walk and sit in that garden with you? ’
He said
‘Yes; I am a poet.’
To the second man I said
‘You are indeed blest,
O noble sir… and must have earned yourself
this great honour… tell me,
do you invite every passing stranger
into your treasure house, saying,
take all you need -
to make rich their life, too? ’
He said
‘Yes; I am a poet.’
To the third man I said
‘You are indeed blest,
O noble sir… and must have earned yourself
this great honour… tell me,
do you invite every passing stranger
to come and dig whenever he so needs? ’
He said
‘Yes; I am a poet.’
poem by Michael Shepherd
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One Step Over The Line
When I look into your eyes I see the world cut down to size
Baby don't apologize for taking me one step over the line
When I touch your sacred skin Babe I know it ain't no sin
I feel you starting to give in. Now let's go one step over the line
I know it's just your daddy's car Your daddy never went this far
Baby we know who we are
Let's go one step over the live
I could feel your driving wheels
We could make those tires squeal
Oo I like the way it feels Taking it one step over the line
Bridge
One step forward and two steps back Is for the birds
I'm talking cake walking into the black
I've crossed the little line and I don't mean maybe
I hear they've buried lover's lane In a sea of tears and pain
Let's you and me go up in flames
Baby one step over the line
They're drawing boxes on the ground (on the ground)
Just to make us lookin down (Don't look down)
All we got to do is look around (Look around)
And take it one step over
One step over the line
One step over the line
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When They Call You, You Must Go
do not refuse a chance to be a hero,
so on this day,
or tonight, when they call your name
go,
do not tarry, be ready with the raincoat
and the flashlight
you just do not know what happens next
they will take you to the place
a house on the side of the forest
at the foot of the mountain
there is no fire there
no smoke
nothing is cooked for supper
there is a bleeding man
and he is groaning in pain
and they open the door and you enter
with your black leather bag
and they call you
doctor
there is no ideology here
nothing to talk about
and you begin to take away the bullet
that pierced his strong flesh in the arm
and on his belly
there is no anesthesia and so you put
a red cloth on his mouth
until he faints and then there is silence
no song for the dead even
you cannot sleep over this calling
until you find light
penetrating the holes of the roof
it is already morning
and they all left and you do not know
where they are going
a child with sharp eyes calls your name again
he lead you to the exit point
back to your
old house in the subdivision where you live
where your wife is waiting
your breakfast is ready, your coffee cold.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Lark's Song
The morning is wild and dark,
The night mist runs on the vale,
Bright Lucifer dies to a spark,
And the wind whistles up for a gale.
And stormy the day may be
That breaks through its prison bars,
But it brings no regret to me,
For I sing at the door of the stars!
Along the dim ocean-verge
I see the ships labouring on;
They rise on the lifting surge
One moment, and they are gone.
I see on the twilight plain
The flash of the flying cars;
Men travail in joy or pain -
But I sing at the door of the stars!
I see the green, sleeping world,
The pastures all glazed with rime;
The smoke from the chimney curled;
I hear the faint church bells chime.
I see the grey mountain crest,
The slopes, and the forest spars,
With the dying moon on their breast -
While I sing at the door of the stars!
poem by Anne Glenny Wilson
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A Happening Within
there is something in us that grows
into a complication,
the sophistication of the labyrinths that
we create in every word and line,
it used to be just a simple house with
one door without walls and ceiling
a theater for the dance of the wind
and the fireflies & perhaps
one window and a little patio to appease the senses
of simplicity
dressed like a rag doll
but it can't be prevented
as time grows more hands and feet and even wings
and horns
many subways are built
secret chambers
foxholes and slaughter houses
or tea tables
restricted areas and hidden homes
and buried cemeteries
and lost treasures
that will never be found
perhaps that is our nature
and also the nature of our poetry
there is a room where we make love
and there is only one person there
name not revealed
no one has a hint
there is a kitchen where no cooking is done
for fear of smoke and fire
where firewood is taboo and where cigarette speaks
a language of puffs
like Indian warriors communicating to
themselves
in the smoke of their palms
i, myself, create signs
that are designed more to confuse
than to
make bridges
the rivers are happier
and the clouds celebrate the success of
the floating
i am into this again
this chasm between two selves
split carrot stick
that falling that is endless
that bliss that is as silent as the star at night
when you are alone
and missing no
one.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fears of A Mad Man In The Office
forgive me
i am an unthinking human being
i am exhausted
and feeling like a wall of a house
the roof makes no sense to me
or the stairs
which she finds
to be filled with meaning
i am not that road
i go nowhere
and i do not stretch
to places
forgive me
but i am too tired to think about what you are thinking
now
it is my fingers
simply moving
and not knowing what it is doing
just following the water of the river
without fish
and moss
forgive me
for having wasted your time
i am tense
and i have fears about things that yet to come
i do not even know
i am afraid
and so forgive me
i am contagious and may destroy what ever mood
you may have today
and so forgive
me for taking you to the last line of this poem
it is this
nothingness that attacks me
like a bullet in my head
and so
forgive me
i am dead or
i am just playing dead because i am afraid.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The thirst of gods for you
now i have seen your world
tumble
it is reversed now, the roof has
become the floor
and you suffer and here i am
comforting you
that somehow you are a strong woman
who can endure all these
you can build a new house again
sooner
you can put the windows in the number
that you want it
some doors of privacy
a garden of red roses
a trail of green grass and you can put more
stars than what you
had before
i am silent somehow about what you did
when you were one of those
heavenly bodied
before everything fell off
the sky where you lived once was
filled with the arrogance of your
meteors
the greed of your spaces
the deceit of your looks and
the inhumanity of your acts
have polluted
what once were clear rivers
where all used to drink
for life
so many died because of your
hatred
so many were maimed because of
your indifference
and now
the gods must have rewarded you
with what is due you
and you now complain about
an indescribable pain
this suffering that seems so
endless
you are weighed by the Furies now
and you have weighed
less than expected
i only have pity for you
but to bring you to my world
i must not perhaps tell you
but i must admit
i can't.
because you now deserve
to suffer
for another hundred years
the gods
are thirsty...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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He Is God Almighty
He does not ask
for blind faith:
look at the evidence.
The universe is
and you did not create it.
You die if your air supply
is cut off
and you did make it.
You die if the earth stops
yielding fruits
and you cannot replace it.
Ask Abraham and Melchizedek
about Him.
Joseph and Mary submitted to Him.
Jesus adores Him.
Invite Him in today.
He will not refuse you.
His arms are outstretched still.
Invite Him in your heart.
He will come in and dwell with you.
He is God Almighty.
poem by Buxton Shippy
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A Poetry Of Smell
a smell, your smell,
that perfume that sticks
to my skin,
your sweat, that wetness
between us,
dry before us, desert sand,
nothing to talk about oasis,
camels in a caravan
under the stars one evening,
you are my tent,
i live there, but you are not
there, there is this blankness
that i face within me,
there is this trail that smells
like you, i follow,
and then i stop, it is not us
there, there is no us,
there is the star that shines
one evening
it does not last,
but every evening it comes
back to me,
too near, in my mind,
too far, in reality.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Everyday Glory
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
In the house where nobody laughs
And nobody sleeps
In the house where love lies dying
And the shadows creep
A little girl hides, shaking,
With her hands on her ears
Pushing back the tears, til the pain disappears
Mama says some ugly words
Daddy pounds the wall
They can fight about their little girl later
Right now they dont care at all
No matter what they say...
No matter what they say...
Everyday people
Everyday shame
Everyday promise
Shot down in flames
Everyday sunrise
Another everyday story
Rise from the ashes ---
A blaze of everyday glory
In the city where nobody smiles
And nobody dreams
In the city where desperation
Drives the bored to extremes
Just one spark of decency
Against a starless night
One glow of hope and dignity
A child can follow the light
No matter what they say
No matter what they say...
If the futures looking dark
Were the ones who have to shine
If theres no one in control
Were the ones who draw the line
Though we live in trying times ---
Were the ones who have to try
Though we know that time has wings ---
Were the ones who have to fly
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soldier's Reality
The drums of war beat in the distance,
A constant beat of gun shots.
The men and boys fighting.
Waiting for the war to end, to go back home.
They sit in the cover of the long grass,
Guns loaded, hearts pounding.
They wait for a signal, a sign,
To rise, run, and fire.
Till then they sit, watching, bullets passing by.
They watch people falling, their lives leaving.
Nothing matters to them except that they live,
That they get to see their family again.
Smoke hangs in the air,
A thick mist that reminds them that they're at war,
Keeping them in reality, keeping their eyes open.
The constant rhythm of guns against heart beats,
Both pounding, both screaming.
The black sky closing in on them,
Keeping them in the small battle that they can not escape,
They move back from the front line,
Move away from the fire, the death.
Some walk, some run, some cry, some pray,
But they all move on.
They all go back to camp, to wait for more death and pain.
For tomorrow.
The talking goes late into the night.
Men and women desperate for happiness,
They sit around guns in hand,
Ready for anything.
The shooting never stops, never leaves their minds,
Even in the depths of this black night,
Nothing ends except the next person's life,
Nothing is right, nothing is normal, nothing feels real,
But in truth and in the midst of everything so surreal,
This is the soldiers reality.
by: bethany M.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Another Day
Some invite me to their houses
But I cannot go there as I have other plans.
I just say, 'Another day, I shall make it'.
That day never comes.
They invite me again
But I cannot go there still, my plans are being worked out
I just repeat, ' Another day, believe me'.
They smile- They know it.
They look at me
As if to enquire whether I would make it this time.
But I am what I was and how shall I go?
They go away still smiling.
I at last realise and tell it aloud
I won`t go anywhere whoever may invite me.
I have made a big SHELL for all.
And am waiting to withdraw myself into it for ever.
I will take everyone into my SHELL which has a big mouth
I won`t let you tell, 'another day and another day'.
I will drag you all into it for ever, it`s certain.
My SHELL will swallow you all on a day.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Two Silent People, Dying
you are silent
more silent than the stars above us
this mountain of
sorrow does not know the songs of sighs
it is as silent
as you
more silent than all the stars above us
i join you in this silence and i take a journey far from you
my thoughts are wings and they will not use words as vehicles
from my mouth there will be no sound too
what are we contemplating for? i ask myself.
you think of death, i know, but you have not guessed what i am thinking
i am tired of death, let it come when it comes,
i am thinking of those tiny things in my life
how they happen, how time flies too fast
and i am here with you left behind it like a hundred years
i go back to thinking about us bathing in the river
since we do not know how to swim we take hold of a driftwood
from nowhere
it teaches us how to swim
that driftwood from nowhere
and it is when that driftwood left us
that we struggle for our life
and then we have learned
how to drift, ultimately how to swim
we are here in the middle of this silent struggle
it is when it hurts best that we begin to learn how to think
how to think well more than the rest of those
who are not conscious of the shortness of the time left
it is here in the middle of our sorrow
that we become more intelligent, wisdom sprouts and grows
into a tree
in our heads, and we are soon carried to a height
where we see them all
away from us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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When There Is Nothing More To Be Done...
got a call and she is dying,
whatever that means
dying to see me
or dying to die
it does not matter to me anymore
now that i have burned all the bridges
and made holes of those wooden boats
and broke all the paddles
what then is going to be done
as a matter of
last resort to save what she thinks
is still valuable
inside our hearts
we are like those burned houses
early dawn with nothing saved
we see all the ashes and some smoke
still clinging on the charred pieces
of furniture and beams
of the past
'there is nothing anymore'
and i have not opted for those memorized prayers
those usual offerings of
chicken blood and pork
or the newly hatched egg with a squeaking chick
hoping that perhaps someday
the root cause shall be known
how the tree falls off and how the worms
begin their feasts
on our own stupidities.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A House Without Stairs
do not say
that without the stairs
the house is not a house anymore
without the ceiling
the more the house becomes to me
take the roof
if you want
or the beams
or even the floor and window frames
my house will still be a house
the sky its roof
the stretching grassy plain its floor
all the stars become
my magnificent ceiling
whatever is taken
we must imagine that all things are still there
lest we only have a house
that crashes on the floor
with all of us
dead
crushed to the death of
our imaginations
a door without an exit
because you have not seen hope coming
the lock and key
are all in the mind and heart
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You Said It
you said that when you get rich
you will throw a big party
and invite the flies.
if you invite me,
may i invite the worms?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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