A Little Disturbed
at 2: 01 in the morning
you switch on the light
a little bit dim
not to hurt your eyes
and you get out of bed
naked
you open the door
towards the kitchen
and get a glass of water
you drink
you want to satisfy thirst
wetting your tongue
and gargling the coldness
swallowing it gently
feeling this creeping
coldness to your
throat down
to your abdomen
something is burning
inside
and the water is
not killing it
you sit and think
a while and stare
at the light
there is nothing there
except the glare
now you wonder
sleep is still nowhere
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Symbiosis
you are the glass
and on your open mouth
i am the water
i will fill every space
of your body
do not feel my coldness
you do not deserve it.
keep the thirst
i shall quench it.
do not be carried away
by my coldness
do not spill me
i need you as vessel
of my directionless fluidity.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Glass Of Water Please
and so the story wants to end itself with a
glass of water.
those who cry after always need
a glass of water.
those whose hearts are broken
those who sob
those who close the window of the niche
those who have nightmares
those who wake up at 3 o'clock in the morning
those who sit on bed and cannot sleep back
always go to the kitchen
open the refrigerator
get a glass and splash
a cold glass of water
this time, i am asking for a glass of water
for i could be
all of the above or you could be one of those
i have described
but who knows we are not one of those
who knows
we are but just anyone who is normally thirsty
and with nothing to ask
simply ask
for a glass of cold water.
and cheerfully, we do not forget to say
please....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Insomniac Who Drew The Head Of A Sheep Wildly On A White Paper
the insomniac's heart is bleeding. she is in pain tonight like the other past night.
she thinks she is dying right on her own bed. changing positions. finding the right way to sleep. she could not find it. she is lost in the darkness of this loneliness. she goes naked towards the refrigerator to get a cold glass of water.
ice cubes. water rushing to the glass. clicking sound of glass and another glass.
coldness rushing to her esophagus. Coldness multiplying in her burning heart. her blankets burning. She could not sleep tonight. She gets a white paper, a pen and begings to scribble her life: wildly, some lines run. Shaping the head of a sheep. one. two. three. four. five. Five eyes. She stops. She needs five eyes to see everything. Awake. The ceiling where the lizards grow to become alligators on the plywood swamp. No grasses but cobwebs of sleepy spiders.
Five Jacks are hidden on the ears. On the ears are hairs of corn. Blonde. On the nose are paper clips. With them, she is cruel. Then she hides a bull inside her pharynx, the one that shits inside her mouth. She stinks. The bull makes a call for desire. For lust. She closes it with the prison wall of her teeth and gums and lips. Her lips are sealed now. All the five eyes are open throughout the night. Looking for love. Love is not found. Her heart bleeds. Stains of blood penetrate the white paper.
She had not slept for five nights. She will add another five eyes. She knows
if this happens again and again, she will die. She pretends that she is strong.
She will not forget these nights. Preludes to her death. She writes some hieroglyphics all over the empty spaces of the white paper. She will not forget
what each line and curve and sharp edges mean. She codes them. She writes the date 9.2.2008.
She does not put her name. It is enough that no one knows and remembers.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An Empty Glass
an empty glass on the table
we stare at each other tonight
and i theorize on its emptiness
is it fed up with water?
was it drunk the other night and
would not take any liquor?
we stare at each other tonight
my hands holding on my chest
i bite my lips with my teeth
something seeps inside my mouth
i hesitate to swallow it
there is still this fear about substance
something that is alienating
my heart is quenched of its fire
there is only the coldness
of tranquility
something to drink from an empty glass
something that caresses
i shall take it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Primera Luz
you wake up only to find out
that at this hour you are confused with
what to do first
you rise put on propriety
you walk towards the fridge
you open it to
have a cold glass of water
to drink and feel
the coldness of this
still gray hour
there is no difference
it is the same cold moment
like last night's
old temperament
when you had problems about
what to do
with your life when you took off
propriety
and lay your self naked against
light of the ceiling's
indifference
there is simply no one that fits
the one that you dream: so sweet
and enduring
the eternal goodness that you
still hope for
there is no one,
no one
perhaps there could be good news
on a primera luz.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Need Water
Scorching hot summer’s day
Devastation struck on our holiday.
Water, water running out
No more water left about.
Where is water?
What to do?
Stressing, thirsty, hungry too.
Need a shower!
Need a drink!
But there is no time to think.
Running, running to the store
“No more water” written on the door.
I need water, but there’s none,
Definitely not having fun.
Feeling dirty!
Feeling sick!
Needing something so basic.
Water, water I need you
Then I’ll be as good as new.
Water, water always there,
Once it’s gone we’re made aware
Wasting water is not right
Now it’s gone I’ve seen the light.
I need water to survive
I’m lucky to be alive!
poem by Salvatore Mazzeo
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The Water That Quenches Your Thirst
at four o'clock in the morning you wake up.
blood is boiling and you look for water to quench the fire.
there is no water in the kitchen.
you go upstairs
no one is there.
you open the window
there is no rain.
it is just the silence of the world
that becomes the water
to your soul.
you drink every moment of this silence.
every dew
in the leaves
of the tree of
solitude
you are refreshed and from that moment on
you know where water
is.
what dew is
what leaves are.
there is a thirst that you have just
defined.
it is not their water
neither yours.
it is beyond the ownership of everyone.
and you know
now
where to find it
because you
also know
what it
really
is
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Love Is Like Ice
For my love is like ice
Put it in your armpit
It will melt
And make you wet
Put it in the coldness
of the freezer
in your ref
It will harden
And even crack
Put it under the
Sun and it will
Evaporate
Put me in your
Mouth and let
Me melt in your
Tongue
I become the water
drink me
To quench your
Thirst and i will
make You live
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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282
For my love is like ice
Put it in your armpit
It will melt
And make you wet
Put it in the coldness
of the freezer
in your ref
It will harden
And even crack
Put it under the
Sun and it will
Evaporate
Put me in your
Mouth and let
Me melt in your
Tongue
I become the water
drink me
To quench your
Thirst and i will
make You live
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Water.
Water drips off my body
Red water
Black water
Water that looks like glass as it rolls down my face
Stop the pain
Stop the water
Stop the liquid pouring from my body
Feel the pain
Breathe it in
Taste the hurt flowing
Flowing
Ever so smoothly
Ever so beautifully
Red water
Black water
Water that looks like glass and cuts like a knife
Red water
Looking so pretty
Glistening in the light
Black water
Staining my soul
Streaking my face
Making my pain visible
Water that looks like glass
Falls on my body
Seeps through my pores
I feel nothing inside
So breathe it in
Feel the pain
Let it hurt
And let it heal
Cuz you'll be dead soon enough.
April 5 2010
Copyright by Elaine Cole 2010
poem by Elaine Eatsbabies
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Thirst
My spirit wails for water, water now!
My tongue is aching dry, my throat is hot
For water, fresh rain shaken from a bough,
Or dawn dews heavy in some leafy spot.
My hungry body's burning for a swim
In sunlit water where the air is cool,
As in Trout Valley where upon a limb
The golden finch sings sweetly to the pool.
Oh water, water, when the night is done,
When day steals gray-white through the windowpane,
Clear silver water when I wake, alone,
All impotent of parts, of fevered brain;
Pure water from a forest fountain first,
To wash me, cleanse me, and to quench my thirst!
poem by Claude McKay
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So Much Depends On This Experience
one night when you arrive home
it is you that opens the garage
you have to step out of the car
and expose yourself to this inevitable coldness of a nightfall
no one is home
tonight
when you open the door using your own duplicate key
you switch on the light
no one is home tonight
the garage and house is now well lighted
you close the door and all the windows
you go straight to your bedroom
&
switch on the air-conditioner
you feel the arrival of a very cold packet of wind
from the tip of your feet
and it arrives like a jackal
as you begin to imagine it to be like
the one that you read in those horror books
it howls so loud trying to break the tympanum of your ears
and it is going to bite you
with its sharp eyes and teeth
but there is something so wrong with you:
you are not afraid, you do not mind jackals,
and now you are ready to bite this crazy one
you like this cold, and you smell the frost
you lick it
there is something so wrong with you:
you are aroused, and you do not like to sleep at all.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Sacrifice
i've seen you
thirst
i feel what
thirst is
you look for
water
or whatever
that satisfies
the dreams of
your lips& tongue
i thirst for
thirst itself
but i do not
look for water
or even if there
is this pool
i still do not
wish to drink anything
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Friendship U Can Keep (me)
The energy from the fire you have lit
Is so immense and so full of heat
Water could not quench.
I am losing my mind
Tying to satisfy
This hunger
I have for you
Will the thirst never end
As the pain worsens
More and more
Feeling this rage is so incredible
But it's getting too hard, to resist.
As all I want is to let go
And you to feel
Deep inside,
All of this passion
Which is growing stronger
And stronger
You are
my victim
My throat is so dry
So satisfy me
poem by George Albot
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Somewhere In The Night
Time
You found time enough to love
And I found love enough to hold you
So tonight, Ill stir the fire you feel inside
Until the flames of love enfold you
Layin beside you, lost in the feeling
So glad you open my door
Come with me
Somewhere in the night we will know
Everything lovers can know
Youre my song
Music too magic to end
Ill play you over and over again
Lovin so warm, movin so right
Closing our eyes, and feeling the light
Well just go on burning bright
Somewhere in the night
Youll sleep when the morning comes
And Ill lie and watch you sleeping
And youll smile, when you dream about the night
Like its a secret youve been keeping
Layin beside you lost in the feeling
So glad you open my door
Youre my song
Music too magic to end
Ill play you over and over again
Lovin so warm, moving so right
Closing our eyes and feeling the light
Well just go on burning bright
Somewhere in the night
Well just go on burning bright
Somewhere in the night.
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Looking for Water
Still the leaves are spinning 'round
Take my hand as we go down, and down, and down
Looking for water
Well, our light's gone in a New York minute
Don't know about you, but my heart's not in it
(Looking, looking, looking)
I'm looking for water
I'm looking for water
(Looking, looking, looking)
I can't breathe the air, can't raise a fact
'Cause all we've got left is a beat in the night, and I'm
(Looking for water)
Looking for water
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
Take my hand as we go down, and down
Leave it all behind, nothing could be found
(I'm, looking for water)
I'm looking for water
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
(I, looking for water)
Looking everywhere
(Looking for water)
Looking here and there
(I'm looking for water)
I'm looking for water
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I can't live in this cage, I can't eat this candy
The edge of the earth to the spin in my head
The look in your eyes and never means never
The dawn's early light, baby, dark is forever
(Looking, looking)
(Looking, looking)
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for watter)
Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for watter)
Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for watter)
song performed by by David Bowie, music by David Bowie, lyrics by David Bowie from Reality
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Water Fountain
I drank glasses of water,
I drank water from office coolers.
Many people drank from water fountains.
I thought my thirst I could slake,
If I drank water from a cool lake.
Then I would would drink cold water,
From gushing waterfalls.
But much to my surprise,
I thirsted for all of Earth's water.
I couldn't fathom my inner self,
About slaking my thirst insatiable.
I couldn't come to grips about,
The deep waters of my life.
Was it my body? Or was it my soul?
Then I very quickly learned,
That this thirst for water that was burning in me,
Was my unending thirst for love
That everybody yearns for.
And everybody needs.
In quantities of glasses, coolers, waterfalls,
Lakes, oceans and seas.
poem by Vera Sidhwa
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She Brought Them All Kindly To Her Grave
of course i know what coldness is
apart from something that is cool
when mother died her hands were extremely cold
for my hold
i let them go
there was no sadness
there was that happiness of letting her rest
and giving myself a little space
for tomorrow
when coldness comes again in an empty room
with open windows
i know not what panic shall be
my hands are extremely cold these days
when i kiss them
my lips become frozen
they break like glasses
i cannot speak
there is no way that my tongue shall give in to
words
it cannot face coldness in the mirror
of my face
since you ask and you demand an explanation i open my hands
and i let your hands touch them
i cannot speak i am afraid i will be cruel
you must hold these extreme coldness for a long time
so you can all let them go
like white birds against a dark sky
so you can also experience what happiness
i had when i let go off
mama's fears
when mama closed her eyes
because what was important she knew
need not be said anymore
she brought them all kindly to her grave
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On To Something More Concrete
i
i check on the word 'grass'
not in the wikipedia
i check that word outside
i step on the lawn where grass is
i sit upon it and lay my head upon its softness
the grass is cool and comforting
early this morning
ii
i like to check on something more concrete
than what the word signifies
the puffiness of the clouds
the blueness of the skies
the coldness of water
the salt of the sea
how the waves travel and arrive at the shore
i lay my body on the sand
open my eyes to the sky and trace the paths that clouds travel by
i swim to the coldness of the sea and taste with my tongue its salt
i touch the waves
i wait upon the shore and let my hours pass away
iii
this is the earth where i live
where i step upon
it is real, it is never fake
it is as concrete as each word signifies
iv
i speak now to You
Let me thank You for all these
I am alive.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Little Kind Of Depression....
you turn on the light
at your headboard
it serves as your little moon
you stand to get a glass of water
in that mini-fridge
it serves as your brook
to cool your throat
that path to your heart
you go back to bed
take a glance at your watch
it is 7: 30 in the morning
you prolong the night
you need sleep because you are
not yet through with your much
need dreams
you close your eyes
you shut yourself away from a
beautiful morning
that the world outside your room
is freshly giving.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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