a poem for allan jimenez (written in Arvisu House,1981)
If you open my door
Without knocking and
You simply come in
Without myself
What would you say?
It’s been a time
We cleaned rooms
Scrubbed toilet tiles
Into the desired whiteness
Of saints and souls
We designed rooms
Where no rain
Can get in
And surprise us
Of its pouring
About the damp
About the wet
Or the colds we get
We cannot imagine
Accidents do happen
Despite strict precautions
Of the perfect prefect
Of the other sect
We cannot situate
We at wrong hours
Inside wrong rooms
Talking about wrongs
And we talk
All about us and
It talks all about us
The stay
Silent and still
The closed gate
That must by now
Be opened
Or I get
Muriatic and drink it
As my morning milk
Crazy
Now if you happen
To come into my room
Without myself
As I have gone
Far elsewhere
Without myself
Leaving any note
Or sign that I would
Be coming back
To this room
Clean and tidy
What else can you say?
What else would I say?
I cannot promise
I cannot scare you
Elsewhere I go
With another routine
Hi, hello, how are you?
Anyway
The scheduled morning prayers
Of this sad house
Clean and tidy
Shall recite themselves
Perfectly
Without me
Or us
And sure
Everything everything
Would still be all right
All right.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Family Room. For Mary.
You put up with it because
as tiresome as it is, and as they can sometimes be,
somewhere there, there's always love.
He may take interest
in something to be repaired
that's mechanical; and
there's cars to wash and clean,
hobby things to sort and tidy.
Some kids are good or disciplined;
but there's never quite the time
in their expanding world
for doing just what you do
for the house..
But in the human heart
there's this locked, dusty room - you haven't dared
to look inside for years - or indeed
since childhood, for some people -
full of junk, of cobwebs,
broken windows, their sashes jammed,
cupboards that won't open, drawers
whose contents stop them opening; even
the birds have stopped their nesting there;
a room of memories that whisper when it's dark
It's the room that's family.
And surprise - the light still works..
A family can sort and dust and wash and clean and tidy it
in less time than they take
to slam the door
yet only you know that it's done, and how it's done.
And you say nothing.
Somewhere, two strangers
smile at one another
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Shared Loneliness
A house is empty if you're alone.
Its rooms are too quiet for it's known
loneliness too, just like you.
It echoes with hollowness
and creaks with despair
for the lone figure it houses
has no one to share
its rooms.
It hears the steps of the solitary one.
It hears the sighs that weigh like a ton
on its floors and walls
where the sadness crawls.
It longs to be filled
with conversational tones
filling up its rooms.
The bedroom is lonely
and the living room too.
The kitchen has a setting for one
and only one cup of coffee to brew.
These rooms can house all of the pain
that lonesomeness brings and still remain
loyal to the one who's alone.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Naked Eye
Take a little dope
Take a little dope
And walk out in the air
And walk out in the air
The stars are all connected to the brain.
The stars are all connected to the brain.
Find me a woman and lay down on the ground,
Find me a woman and lay down on the ground,
Her pleasure comes falling down like rain,
Her pleasure comes falling down like rain,
Get myself a car, I feel power as I fly,
Get myself a car, I feel power as I fly,
Oh now Im really in control,
Oh now Im really in control,
It all looks fine to the naked eye,
It all looks fine to the naked eye,
But it dont really happen that way at all,
But it dont really happen that way at all,
Dont happen that way at all.
Dont happen that way at all.
You sign your own name and I sign mine,
You sign your own name and I sign mine,
Theyre both the same but we still get separate rooms,
Theyre both the same but we still get separate rooms,
You can cover up your guts but when you cover up your nuts,
You can cover up your guts but when you cover up your nuts,
Youre admitting that there must be something wrong,
Youre admitting that there must be something wrong,
Press any button and milk and honey flows,
Press any button and milk and honey flows,
The world begins behind your neighbors wall,
The world begins behind your neighbors wall,
It all looks fine to the naked eye,
It all looks fine to the naked eye,
But it dont really happen that way at all,
But it dont really happen that way at all,
Nah nah no, dont happen that way at all.
Nah nah no, dont happen that way at all.
You hold the gun and I hold the wound,
You hold the gun and I hold the wound,
And we stand looking in each others eyes,
And we stand looking in each others eyes,
Both think we know whats right,
Both think we know whats right,
Both know we know whats wrong,
Both know we know whats wrong,
We tell ourselves so many many many lies,
We tell ourselves so many many many lies,
Were not pawns in any game, were not tools of bigger men,
Were not pawns in any game, were not tools of bigger men,
Theres only one who can really move us all,
Theres only one who can really move us all,
It all looks fine to the naked eye,
It all looks fine to the naked eye,
But it dont really happen that way at all.
But it dont really happen that way at all.
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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X
in this house of mine
there are many rooms and windows and stairs
you are invited
to take your rest and mind each piece
of myself
displayed and open for view
and even for touch
and even
for your tasting
not even for a moment but for a long time
for as long as all these shall last
but there is one door that you cannot open
one window that is closed
one room which is dark
there is nothing there except my secret longing
no one opens it for no one can
no one sees what is inside it for no one can
there is this fruit in my tree of paradise
that you cannot taste
and touch
and even see
it is only for me and i do not really like it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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And I Lounged and Lay on Their Beds
When I went to that house of pleasure
I didn't stay in the front rooms where they celebrate,
with some decorum, the accepted modes of love.
I went into the secret rooms
and lounged and lay on their beds.
I went into the secret rooms
considered shameful even to name.
But not shameful to me -because if they were,
what kind of poet, what kind of artist would I be?
I'd rather be an ascetic. That would be more in keeping,
much more in keeping with my poetry,
than for me to find pleasure in the commonplace rooms.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Accidents Can Happen
Theres a side of you, could bring on homicide
But livin in a cell changes my view
Maybe your automobile could lose its right front wheel
It happens every day, it could be you
Look back over your shoulder, when you think youre alone, youre not
Each noise, every shadow, look out!
Chorus:
Accidents can happen, its always in the news
Accidents can happen to you
You read it in the paper, you see it on the tube
Accidents can happen
To you
A little haitian doll, that looks a lot like you do
A little powdered poison in your tea
Electricity, invisible to see, Id like to introduce you to mr. e
A malfunction, who would notice, machines and things get hot
A permanent vacation can be bought
Chorus - look out!
(solo)
Accidents can happen, accidents can happen, accidents can happen to you
Chorus - accidents can happen, accidents can happen - look out!
song performed by by Reo Speedwagon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Smokey Hued
My doors smoky open
ethereal;
right and left corridor
compartmented.
I see patterns
and rooms
to the right and left.
Here my Room of Tears,
weeping walls that caterwaul.
All my sorrows hang here
and Deep Regrets lie on the floor.
All My Loves
are in this room
in hues rosette
most past;
their glow
shimmers
even outside
in the corridor.
My eyes lid as I pass
my rooms of Cardinal Sins;
faces there
I'd wronged or mislead,
I was relieved to see Repentments Rooms next
where Atonements array the walls
and below on tables are
Just Due Parchments properly signed
for deliverance to Justice Hall.
I did make some things right there.
Upstairs are my Best Regards
in alcoves 'round my Heart
very soft
healing arts applied with care there.
I'm now down to Secret Sins,
its door ajar with Gambolments,
Inexcusables-Mindless Hurts-
all Unspeakables.
Oh, each time I make this trip
my energy's spent;
and I vow
next time
to make of it
a more pleasant trip
through this
my Soul's House.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A Room In My Heart
My heart was once just like a home
With many rooms and open doors
And I always let love in
It would change the rooms around and then
Leave them empty
'Til one by one I locked each door
And soon forgot what love was for
But I never gave up hopin'
So I left just one door open
In case you found me
So there's a room in my heart for you
If your trust has been stolen too
If you walk softly on this worn out wooden floor
And leave behind you the hurt you've had before
There's a room in my heart for you
We'll paint the walls from blue to white
And set the mood by candlelight
Together we'll keep out the cold
And I'll still be there when we're old
If you'll let me
So there's a room in my heart for you
If your trust has been stolen too
If you walk softly on this worn out wooden floor
And leave behind you the hurt you've had before
There's a room in my heart for you
song performed by by Faith Hill from It Matters To Me
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do you know what you call those who use towels and never wash them, eat meals and never do the dishes, sit in rooms they never clean, and are entertained till they drop? If you have just answered, ""A house guest,"" you're wrong because I have just described my kids.
quote by Erma Bombeck
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Dating A Woman Not Your Wife
oh i know how it feels
i wear black
a coat to blend to the night
when i date
a woman not my wife
i imagine a room
a bottle of champagne
a glass
i imagine i undress myself
have my shower
with her
together
we clean ourselves with soap
and water
at the hotel
and then we wipe ourselves
with a clean white
towel
and we spray perfume
to our warm bodies
we imagine
we sleep tonight
and do
the things we have long imagined
we imagine
we wake up the following morning
some light
filtering in
the venetian blinds
some lights
stab our eyes
and we feel the hurt after
the pleasures
that even outside the room
of the hotel that night
we still imagine
sometimes we imagine we have no guilt at all
but it is always there
we still imagine
and we imagine we can sleep soundly
on eyes closed
we travel somewhere else thinking about the first paradise
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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More Time Baby
As I put you in ur cot
please go to sleep if you are not
to hours sleep is all I need
to do some housework & have a feed.
Washing on & dishes done,
Enjoy your sleep little one
I’ll vacuum now & do some dusting
This house is really quite disgusting
If you’ll sleep a little more I should be able to mop the floor.
Now the house is clean & tidy It’s... time to get some food inside me
It is now that you awake I guess that sandwich can stay on the plate
poem by Karen Heeney
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Living House
I saw you in a house of rooms,
It must be saving the bed of contentment,
Feeding the living of people,
Creating contentment as you speak.
My love is fastened to the door
And the window is collapsing.
My violent pages work for the more,
Rooms are rooms meaningful.
The saviour is brought to the houses
And he saves us from slaughter.
I come to you in the middle of town,
As far as the eye keeps, like one hard.
The contentment is just about.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Little Comfortable
The prepared bed
The warm food
The fresh cloth
Man sometimes doesn’t realize
There’s a ‘dwarf’ that helps in daily life
The tidy room
The clean toilet
The washed dishes
Man sometimes doesn’t remember
There’s a ‘dwarf’ that makes those comfort
The welcome greet
The opened door
The safe night
Man sometimes doesn’t appreciate
There’s a ‘dwarf’ that keeps in watch
The quiet listener
The secret keeper
The pathfinder
Man sometimes doesn’t regard
There’s a ‘dwarf’ that gives those comfort
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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They told me that the hotels had maybe two rooms set up for people with disabilities, but if they got there too late, and didn't get one of these rooms, they couldn't take a shower. The room wasn't hooked up for them, or maybe the sink was too high.
quote by Gregory Hines
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A tidy everything!
A tidy me a
A tidy you
A tidy clean body or soul
Is a tidy human?
No…
Four tidy bedrooms
A tidy lounge
A tidy kitchen
An evenly cut grass
An organised garage with a freshly washed car is a
Peaceful shelter?
No…
An eventful upbringing
A functioning family
A good manner scheme
Is a blissful gift?
No…
A perfect persons snap
An excellent picture?
No…
A well-educated father
A knowledgeable mother
A lenient couple
An ideal parent?
No…
An old man,
An old woman
A young boy
A child
A toddler
Age concern is it?
No…
A black girl, boy
A white girl, boy
An Asian girl, boy
A Chinese maybe even a mix-race
What does this matter?
It is a multicultural union.
Yes…
A graduate
A chav
A weirdo
A mad man
What does this matter?
Not at all…
Civilisation rolled in one piece - in our hearts, is what makes a single, a “WHOLE”
Not a flash motor or a colourful photograph.
Or a “Rich man” with golden rules!
Life isn’t a race
There aren’t any “winners” nor “losers”.
It is all a myth
Errr…YES!
poem by Noorie Ali
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You And A Promise
She was nervous,
She was late,
She left it up to fate,
Standing at a phone.
And she knows what she wants...
And she came here to take it...
How perfect it could be, you and me.
And she met him at the door...
"I don't want you anymore..."
Remember what you said.
You and a promise.
You and a promise.
You...
He turned and he didn't wait.
He walked right through the gate
So glad to be alone.
And he knows who to call...
"I'll always be there for you.."
"Call me anytime..."
I don't mean to offend,
The voice on the other end
Is a stranger to me.
You and a promise.
You and a promise.
You...
And they say to themselves...
And they say to themselves...
"How could I ever let this happen?"
You and a promise.
You and a promise.
"Take me back, I let this happen."
[two, three, four...]
song performed by by Howie Day
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You & A Promise
She was nervous
She was late
She left it up to fate
Standing at a phone
And she knows what she wants
And she came here to take it
How perfect it could be
You and me
And she met him at the door
I don't want anymore
Remember what you said
You and a promise
You and a promise
You
Turned and didn't wait
He walked right through the gate
So glad to be alone
And he knows who to call
I'll always be there for you
Call me anytime
I don't mean to offend
The voice on the other end
Is a stranger to me
You and a promise
You and a promise
You
And they say to themselves
And they say to themselves
How could I ever let this happen
You and a promise
You and a promise
Take me back
Or let this happen
song performed by by Howie Day
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A glimpse
a glimpse
the half opened door
some would say
a half closed door
it all depends on the
state of mind you are in
well half closed for pessismist
and half opened for optimist
half opened or half closed door
so long as it is open
and not close
a good exercise for the mind
of a story teller, novelist, a film maker
a glimpse at the half closed door
the mind is thrown open
like the kick you would give
a half opened door
so that you and pet cat could
glide through easily
the stories that start coming out
from a glimpse at the half opened door
agatha's murdered corpse lying behind
a stalker, a ghost in the corridor of the mind
from the glimpse of the half closed door
a million possibilities, ideas pouring forth
half closed door, half opened door
whichever way you may say
it is an opened door
a million stories, ideas, possibilities
knock at the door of my mind
a glimpse of the half closed, half opened door
my half closed half opened eyes
open themselves to my ever curious mind
boundless as the universe
inspired by
A Glimpse
A GLIMPSE, through an interstice caught,
Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room, around the stove,
late of a winter night-And I unremark'd seated in a corner;
Of a youth who loves me, and whom I love, silently approaching, and
seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand;
A long while, amid the noises of coming and going-of drinking and
oath and smutty jest,
There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little,
perhaps not a word.
Walt Whitman
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Red Rain
Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
I am standing up at the waters edge in my dream
I cannot make a single sound as you scream
It cant be that cold, the ground is still warm to touch
This place is so quiet, sensing that storm
Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
Well Ive seen them buried in a sheltered place in this town
They tell you that this rain can sting, and look down
There is no blood around see no sign of pain
Hay ay ay no pain
Seeing no red at all, see no rain
Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
Red rain-
Putting the pressure on much harder now
To return again and again
Just let the red rain splash you
Let the rain fall on your skin
I come to you defences down
With the trust of a child
Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
And I cant watch any more
No more denial
Its so hard to lay down in all of this
Red rain is coming down
Red rain is pouring down
Red rain is coming down all over me
I see it
Red rain is coming down
Red rain is pouring down
Red rain is coming down all over me
Im bathing in it
Red rain coming down
Red rain is coming down
Red rain is coming down all over me
Im begging you
Red rain coming down
Red rain coming down
Red rain coming down
Red rain coming down
Over me in the red red sea
Over me
Over me
Red rain
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Cleanest Man....
he is clean
he prides about the beard
that he has
just shaven
he is clean
there is no hair left on his head
no hair between his thighs
and legs
he is clean
his chest is bare now
his heart slowly
beating
he is clean as he
is empty
like a room without
furniture and
drapes
he is clean and without
sin
he who has not done
anything
and can do not wrong again...
he is clean now
for he is dead....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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