a neighbor named tony somewhere in the Philippines
a neighbor named tony
is a Filipino and he just arrived yesterday
from the U S of A
we're happy to have him back
so the neighborhood can have his music and art back
(for he is a musician and a
visual artist
sculpture and painting
his skill
beside his expertise
in flowers and
gardening)
he says he is coming for good
in the US of A
he lost his work
and his Jewish master
has finally let him go
due to recession
he brings no money
and he meets no honey
his wife left him and took
all his children
at night he drinks himself
almost to death
he takes rock
and rocks himself all night
we have no way stopping him
we understand
what sorrow is
what life is
we wait how tony shall explain
his own death
we wish somehow
that he recovers
and then we may never
have any peace
in the Philippines.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Life Or Death?
Every day we live, we always face death
We get closer to it, every time we take a breath
Life is special but death brings peace
Life brings reality and things you believe
Death is hard for everyone around
Death is quiet, no more bad sounds
Life is also hard, all the things we go through
Life can never be easy, no matter what you do
Death is sad, for those who cry
Death is meaningful, for those who die
Life is a work of art, it's nice to look
Life is full of teachings, like an open book
Death is the new life, might as well be dead
Death is a lot more, for what's up ahead
Life brings new things, always something new
Life brings surprises, something out the blue
Death is scary, nothing we want to see
Death is negative, a place we don't want to be
Life is full of love, with the ones close to you
Life is full of money, for those who sue
Death is empty, nothing compared to this
Death is a lot of things, too long of a list
But life is everything; don't wait till there's nothing left
Death can wait, so don't waste your last breath
So just pick your choice, which one? Life or death?
poem by Triauna Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Purple Pony!
I have a purple pony,
and i named her tony.
I gave my purple pony named tony a hat,
and it matches her pretty pink sleeping mat.
My purple pony named tony loves to sing and dance,
she likes to sing about her Friend named lance.
I wrote this to tell you that my purple pony named tony Say's hi,
but no my purple pony named tony has to go so bye bye!
poem by Alyssa Hermosillo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Upon leaving arvisu house
the last message of Tony was this:
you have finally seen the light
we who remain here are still
groping in darkness
it is hard to understand what Tony
really meant by that
years passed,15 years more
Tony became a Jesuit Priest
then we met in Zamboanga and
we talked we avoided this thing
about light, we have nothing to
say about it, he said 'You are fat'
i have nothing to say much
i hid the light inside my fists
Tony is correct in this world where
we live, it is a big circle and he
hints about something, it is light
there is no visible end and there
is no visible beginning we only
inhabit we fail always to explain
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tonys Theme
This is a song about a superhero named tony
Its called tonys theme
Hes got the oil on his chain, for a ride in the rain
No baloney
Ride around on my bicycle like a pony
Im waving hi, hi, hi, hi, hi
Gu-gu-gu-gimme a scream
Give me, give me the theme
Of tony
To-ny, to-ny, to-ny, to-ny, to-ny
I am tony, super bicycle tony, Im racing
Spitfire turn and pop a wheelie, burn and evil chasing
Im waving bye, bye, bye, bye, bye
I got a card in my spokes
Im practicing my joke, Im learning
To-ny, to-ny, to-ny, to-ny, to-ny
This is a song about a superhero named tony
Its called tonys theme
I can look at the sun if you give me some bad sun glasses
Im back on the road, I cut my grass like Im told
After classes!
To-ny, to-ny, to-ny, to-ny, to-ny
To-ny, to-ny, to-ny, to-ny, to-ny
To-ny
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tony The Race Car Driver
His name is Tony, but I call him Tone,
he has a D.J. business to play your songs,
while you dance all night long.
Now I met him one night on New Year's Eve,
I was dancing on a table and did not see,
Tony sitting below me at the bar,
he smiled at me then gave me his business card.
Scorpio was the name of his D.J. business,
he also plays the drums, I do confess.
Now, he has one shy Persian cat,
she hides under the couch,
no one knows where's she's at.
Other than that, he watches football
Fan of the Pittsburg Stealers,
they lost over Wisc. last year, people where squealing.
Tony has a red corvette that I can't drive,
Tony goes real fast, thank God he's still alive.
Now Tony and his Uncle Lenny are really fun,
they always joking around with everyone.
Thanks Tone, I hope you get the girl,
and she colors your world.
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Acquainted with the Night
shut your eyes and dream
for that is where paradise is
the world is not
as good as a dream, daylight
at least for many
you see them
all over the morning papers
crimes that came out
of the nights
the husband who
in his rage
against a runaway wife
hanged all three children
and himself
terrorising readers
a wayward son
that beat mom to death
for a little money
to spend at the club
the old spinster
who fell to her death
as the snatch thief
used all his might
for her bag
the court trial
of a murdered woman
that heard of sperm stains
on ceiling
and a deputy prime minister
who allegedly groped with men
a whole mattress taken
to examine for lascivious stains
an artist former husband
who spewed terrible secrets
about wife that
ran away with a musician
carrying her children along with her
never allowing him to see his hearts
in three long years
or the shark money loaner
who forced weedkiller
down his debtor throat
a national top school achiever
denied entry to university
all because of her wrong race
i have been one acquainted
with the night
and as i walked down
the town alleyway
i cross path with
cats, well fed rats
especially the rats
a heapful of them
over rubbish
downtrodden
or not
we all strive to live
in our own ways
and you see them
clearly in the dead of night
where the rats run
and the cats sauntering by
shut your eyes and dream
for is perhaps where paradise is
inspired by
Acquainted with the Night
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain - and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
A luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
Robert Frost
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Night Stand
Let me tell you.....
Jennys getting her stuff in my room
Puts on her skirt and shes looking good
Six am and shes leaving soon
Says what a crazy night I had
A real good time
But her kiss tells me its goodbye
Just like nothing happened last night
But if I had one chance
Id do it all over again
One night stand I dont think shes coming back for more
She was only looking for a one night stand
I dont think shes coming back for more
No no
Now Im left up in my lonely room
She left her underwear and her perfume
I never thought that it could be this good
And I still feel a little on my fingertips
Im trying hard not to feel rejected
Maybe the phone lines disconnected
But if I had one chance
Id do it all over again
I know it
One night stand I dont think shes coming back for more
She was only looking for a one night stand I dont think shes coming back for more
She was only looking
One night stand but Id do it all again for sure
Oh yeah
Baby like a blind man I rushed in
Now do I have the right to ask you,
Will you be coming back again?
One night stand I dont think shes coming back
One night stand I dont think shes coming back
One night stand I dont think shes coming back
One night stand I dont think shes coming back for more
She was only looking
One night stand I dont think shes coming back for more
She was only looking for a one night stand I dont think shes coming back for more
She was only looking for a one night stand I dont think shes coming back for more
She was only looking
One night stand but Id do it all again for sure
I guess it was a one night stand
One night stand
I guess it was a one night stand
One night stand
I guess it was a one night stand
One night stand
I guess it was a one night stand
One night stand
I know it, yeah
song performed by by Enrique Iglesias
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tony The Race Car Driver
His name is Tony, but I call him Tone,
he has a D.J. business to play your songs,
while you dance all night long.
Now I met him one night on New Year’s Eve,
I was dancing on a table and did not see,
Tony sitting below me at the bar,
he smiled at me then gave me his business card.
Scorpio was the name of his D.J. business,
he also plays the drums, I do confess.
Now, he has one shy Persian cat,
she hides under the couch,
no one knows where’s she’s at.
Other than that, he watches football
Fan of the Pittsburg Stealers,
they lost over Wisc. last year, people where squealing.
Tony has a red corvette that I can’t drive,
Tony goes real fast, thank God he’s still alive.
Now Tony and his Uncle Lenny are really fun,
they always joking around with everyone.
Thanks Tone, I hope you get the girl,
and she colors your world.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 26,2011
www.puppetpoems.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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War is not good, absolutely nothing!
war! war!
Why do we have to fight?
People are dieing because of the war,
War is not good, absolutely nothing.
Death here, death there,
Parents are lost, dreams are lost,
Children are lost, brightness is lost.
War brings darkness,
War destroys happiness,
War brings GENOCIDE.
War overtakes peace,
And replaces it with conflict,
War is not harmony.
War brings greediness,
War brings depression,
War is not good, absolutely nothing.
The Song Of Despair
Somehow you are missing from my memory.
The night falls slowly, coming with tranquillity.
Deserted is our once happy home as you are gone,
my whole life has turned into stone.
You swallowed all our possessions, left an open door,
and only empty spaces on the wooden floor.
In your love I once was lost,
but your betrayal came at an extremely high cost.
You wanted me only for the body’s bliss
and went to a lover and that is the way that it is.
Too many times I had to draw curtains back,
in life and coming death change the ways that you did act.
Too many times as my wife
you were part of me, were too important in my life.
Now what was once ours fades to oblivion,
as life not ending just moves on and on.
This is the time of departure
when birds go to their nests in nature,
when to ashes wood in the fireplace burn,
when you left on a journey of no return.
Much too slowly this night moves on, once happy one.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Demons Inside Me
i soar through the sky
as happy as a man
can possibly be
a few years have passed
i walk through the night
as sad
as anyone
could possibly be
i wait to die
wait till the day i can fly
i take a sip of this
memory eraser
nothing i hate more
then songs about
happy endings
my life will not end happy
my life use to be happy
i smoke this drug
hoping it will prevent me
from being a sad death
i take these pills
so i wont die
so i wont kill myself
i forget my happy past
so i wont be more depressed
i have demons
everyone i know has them
but mine are the worst
my past haunts me
knowing i use to be happy
its three am
i jump in a lake
rocks tied all around me
knowing what will happen next
trying to drown my sarrows in death
im sorry loved ones but i am gone
ive been dead for most of my life
now i am dead
maybe i can find some peace in hell
mabe just maybe you can live a different life
because mines no good
so take another path
good luck to ya
i hope not to see you
in the next life
poem by Chance Topliss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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this Sunday
this Sunday i will be with Tony
my cousin with one arm left,
a machine ate his left arm,
his wife left him and his only son
does not recognize him anymore,
oh, it's a sad story, and it's
pity in real action, but i let him
express himself,
he is a good mountain
walker.
this Sunday, we agreed on a trek
in Tabon, where the trees are still trees.
The path is narrow, and
the grasses are taller.
we do not hunt for birds,
we simply watch them.
we do not speak that much
we agreed to simply listen
the sound of the forest wind
the shadows of the hills cast by the setting sun
the mud on our feet
the sweat on our brows
at night, when we are all alone
we begin to tell our stories again
those where wives are not interested to listen
those which do not make husbands cry
over a cup of hot coffee
i recite a sad poem that i have not the courage to write for once.
now it is not about love
it is more about death and revenge
Tony will like it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tony Abbott's Invitation
Politician Tony Abbott in the paper crying poor
Saying his family can't take the effects of his pay cut anymore
He still earns more in one day than I do in 26 weeks
Doesn't he think of our farmers while his gives this 'poverty' speech?
His concept of poverty reads like a comedy
Can't he hear his arrogance as he's speaking?
His 'poverty' to others is the life of a king
I invite Tony Abbott to come and live on my pay
He wouldn't survive 'till the end of Monday
Come and see what an empty fridge means
Learn a baked meal is just a can of baked beans
Come be someone who won’t own real estate
When he's got a tooth ache, how long does he wait?
Does he pain with hunger as he sells his body to pay rent?
His children getting sicker because the medicine money is spent?
Tony Abbott I challenge you today
To come and live three whole months on my pay
Go work a five day week and earn the same as me
Then come back and talk about your poverty
I invite Tony Abbot to come and live on my pay
He wouldn't survive ‘till the end of Monday
Can you see the headline on the newspaper page?
'Abbott goes postal raising family on 'low' wage'
poem by Helen Warren
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bow Before My Death
I lie beneath the flame this night,
I bow before my death,
He takes my hand,
And holds me close,
Death embraces me,
He says the time has come,
Beginning now meets end,
He says the fires taken me,
And now it's time to walk,
Walk the path of fates sweet song.
I lie beneath the flame this night,
I bow before my death,
The fires stripped me of my sins,
Humility my pride,
Now death guides me through the dark,
And speaks to me kind words,
'The pain has stopped,
It won't come back,
Your senses now are cleansed,
The soul has been washed clean',
He says the end is pleasure.
I lie beneath the flame this night,
I bow before my death,
Death's a man clothed in blue jeans,
A white shirt stained with blood,
Death holds a knife,
Death slits my throat,
Death is the end of my beginning.
I lie beneath the flame this night.
I bow before my death.
poem by Holly Heron
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Widower
She left him in death's egg,
the bone sack & the gunny sack,
the bag of down & feathers-all black . . .
Somehow he couldn't get back.
It was night,
a night of shark-faced jets
winking brighter than blue stars,
a night of poisoned cities
mushrooming beneath the eyes of jets,
a night of missile silos
sulking in the desert,
a night of babies howling in the alleys,
a night of cats.
She left a death so huge
his life got lost in it.
She left a bloodstained egg
he had to hatch.
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Last Sunset
The old man staring out a frosted window.
Watching life his go by.
Wondering what could have been.
Had he only tried.
Things could have been so different.
He thinks with such regret.
His end is coming closer.
This is his last sunset.
He thinks of the love that he lost.
And how he let her go.
If he could turn back the hands of time,
His love for her he'd show.
Success it was his idol.
Money, work and fame.
His work's what he took serious.
His life was but a game.
A game he played against the odds.
He thought that he would win.
But money wasn't everything.
Much to his chagrin.
He remembered a story he heard one day,
About a man named Christ.
And all the lives this man had changed.
And changed without a price.
Their lives were complete and full of peace.
And all their dreams came true.
Not with money, work and fame.
But with how their spirits grew.
The old man knowing his end was near.
Called out to The One.
“Help me know just what I missed”
He cried out to God's son.
The man with tears now in his eyes.
Looked up to heaven above.
And felt a hand upon his arm.
That filled the man with love.
And then a hug, a warm embrace.
He held the man so tight.
He vowed to not let that man go.
Alone into the night.
The man he spoke to Jesus.
And repented all his sin.
Jesus spoke with a gentle voice,
“I know just where you've been.”
“That's why I came to save you,
and I hung upon my cross.
Even though your end is near.
Son, you're no longer lost.”
The man he then closed his eyes.
With a smile upon his face.
Knowing the home going to,
Was a much more loving place.
The Savior then he took his hand,
And led the old man's soul.
To an eternity full of peace.
From a life with no control.
The old man now young and looking down.
Wondering why did he wait,
To feel the joy that Jesus brought.
But at least it wasn't too late.
The Father will come running.
To his children when they cry.
For you only have one life to live.
So don't wait until your last goodbye.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Filipino Fed Up In Chicago
AND so one day he got fed up
Worrying about his bills
Light, cell phones,
Apartment rents
Meals and what to eat
Next month
No money to
Send to the
Philippines
There is no work coming
And the old man he took care of
Died a month ago
Bad luck
He is vacant
He could not go to the malls
There is no money left for the week
And there is no work coming
No one is offering to help
And he worries
About his telephone bills
His credit card
His rent
His SSS
His unrenewed passport
His expiring visa
His debts
One day he goes outside
It is quite cold
Colder now
The snow is coming
He smokes his cigarette packs on the park
A middle-aged American woman stares and tells her
“Smoking is bad for your health
You are polluting the earth”
Just a little advice
But his head is hot and
Hot temper is what is steaming inside
He is fuming mad to that middle aged American woman
He is also fuming mad about
Himself to be honest
About it
“Shit shit shit, I smoke if I want to
I use my own money to kill myself
F###k YOU!
Mind your own American business
In this free country I can smoke anytime I want! ”.
He knows how to curse now
In the most American way
For just a year or two
he was a timid Filipino
he was the meek citizen
of this world
And he smokes all day in the park
his packs of cigarettes in the park
Puffing and puffing and breathing and breathing
Releasing all his dismays in cold air
He can see his bleeding heart
His cursing
“f##k you! ”
'f$$k you! '
in the freezing air
his cursing is a big bold font
in the atmosphere
His cell phone does not have any load
And he cannot call anybody
And he remembers well the latest old
Jewish rich man which he took care of
who died a month ago
One day the old man fell on the floor
The one who shitted him all day
he still could remember
fully well
all the old man's yell
spell: F$$K YOU! '
The old man could not stand
back
He was big, fat, and dying
He did not help him stand
He merely stood there askance
And the old man shouted and growled
“Shit shit you Filipino
Help me stand from here”
'F$$K YOU FILIPINO! '
And he said
WITH ALL STRICT COMPOSURE
SO SURE OF HIMSELF NOW
with a little authoritative
moral advice
like he was a wise man
“Rich American now is the time
for you to
Command all your mighty dollars
your mighty dollars
your mighty dollars
your mighty dollars
To help you rise and make
You, young and strong again! ”
The old Jewish rich man died
Due to cardiac arrest.
And now he is out of job
No money
No promises
And one day now
He finds himself smoking himself to death
On this cold dark wildlife park south of
Chicago.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I think my playing has been orchestral throughout the years, and this is another way of expressing that. But I primarily see it as the ultimate accomplishment of a musician. Composing makes me feel like I've finally gotten all the way up the ladder as a musician.
quote by Tony Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death Is Death, Dissolution Of All
All over this mammoth Earth,
There is nothing like death;
All over this mammoth Earth,
Nothing escapes death
Except that strange death itself.
What is this death,
Perchance, death itself knows not;
Whence it springs,
Where are its wings,
Fancied none in these million years.
It’s the live black hole
In dance along the time’s scale;
Nothing escapes its rapacious field
And nothing ever breaks out of its shield,
Death is death, dissolution of all.
Is death a beginning, none ever ever knows,
No mysteries as mysterious as death ever is;
No light or shade nor talent prised it,
No voyages ever came back out of its womb,
Nor light-years ever scaled the depth of death.
Death brings down all to the Nature’s womb,
To the Natures pristine pure form;
No rise or fall nor glory or shame,
‘Neath the mysterious death, all are same;
Indeed, the supreme equalizer is death.
Death is true peace, death is ultimate pain,
Death is finding peace in the folds of pain;
Death robs light and spreads dark night
And numbs soul to the inevitable truth, that
Born out of night, but we are part of that night.
poem by Praveen Kumar
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Day and Night
DAY goeth bold in cloth of gold,
A royal bridegroom he;
But Night in jewelled purple walks—
A Queen of Mystery.
Day filleth up his loving-cup
With vintage golden-clear;
But Night her ebon chalice crowns
With wine as pale as Fear.
Day drinks to Life, to ruddy Life,
And holds a kingly feast.
Night drinks to Death; and while she drinks—
Day rises in the East!
They may not meet; they may not greet;
Each keeps a separate way:
Day knoweth not the stars of Night,
Nor Night the Star of Day.
So runs the reign of Other Twain.
Behold! the Preacher saith
Death knoweth not the Light of Life,
Nor Life the Light of Death!
poem by Victor James Daley
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