A Reminder
we claim no expertise
for this
we are not famous
neither shall we be at
all at any time
on the page of history
we assert no name
we are in fact nameless
we claim no right to a home
in fact we are nothing but freelance
hopeless romantics
insistent fanatics as you dislike us
writing about our
failures
we are here
not for anything else
we do not need any
eulogies that will last a lifetime
of mention
we do not go for
epitaphs
no tombstone
we are here because you are here
we talk.
we are here because we are hurt.
we simply express what we feel.
do not bother. we know where we are going.
do not give us importance. We are used
to our being trivial.
we are used to be used.
we are irrelevant with our syntax
we shall fail you
do not mind us.
we know how to exist.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Without A Need For Others To Interpret
You claim to know what it is that you 'see'?
And still allow yourself to disrespect it?
Either you don't know it for what it is...
Or,
Your perception of it is not grounded on fact.
You claim to know what it is that you 'see'?
And still allow yourself to disrespect it?
Either you don't know it for what it is...
Or,
Your perception of it is not grounded on fact.
And perceptions not ground on fact,
Could eliminate what you thought you had...
For someone else to appreciate,
With a knowing what it is that they have!
Without a need for others to interpret.
'Hang in there! '
No. YOU hang in there.
That's your expertise.
I have a life to live with doings to be pursued.
With no intentions to swing in the wind.
Or be linked to a ball and chain.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Fact Is, In The World Of Lies, Life Is Fair
accept the fact that sometimes we say things
that we do not mean, that sometimes we burst in anger
and we hurt and then we apologize that we do not really mean to hurt
sometimes we show feelings too that we do not really want to express.
sometime we say 'i love you' and yet we are just compelled to do so
someone is dying and he needs you badly at the end of her day.
sometimes, accept the fact, that time strains us and we become
the liars, the hypocrites, the fraud, and the swindler.
and most of all, we keep it for a time, making some stares straight in the eye.
accept this fact, we are humans and in some harsh times
we decide, to survive, at all costs, no matter what.
now, we shall talk, and you shall listen and i shall write about the truth
of this fact. we are us conjoined twins in the art of deception.
lie to me as i lie to you and then we accept this fact: life is fair.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Am Human
I am human being
Neither poor nor a king
Simple man with high aim
Nothing to leave behind and simply claim
Less I ignore
Love and everything I get more
Less I dislike and push you away
More you come near and stay
Yet I feel good and don't hate
I have fine nature but no words to state
I can't utter a word 'You die'
It will not be from my heart but a total lie
Cry when you feel like
Shy off when something you dislike
Meet people and openly express
Love to hate and keep smile on face
It is not difficult to profess
But easy to cheer and chase
Ups and down may cause no worry
As there is little scope to feel sorry
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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If Situations Were Different
Once something has been torn down,
And ceases to exist...
That's it!
Those who talk about,
Things they have been done...
If situations were different,
With a voicing of their opinions...
To allow a disappearance,
Are usually the ones to others say...
They wish they knew what was going on.
The matter of the fact is...
They did.
As as their custom...
Watched from a distance.
As those who claim to have had an interest,
Do!
Once something has been torn down,
And ceases to exist...
That's it!
And many will be to over glamourize,
Their involvement...
When something no longer existing,
Leaves.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Hate The Fact
I hate the fact
that one can steal your heart
and leave it broken in many parts
I hate the fact
that one can make you feel
but then you looked he had turned the wheel
I hate the fact
that one can catch your eye
and finally find it was for a while
I hate the fact
that one can sweep you off your feet
into a fantasy that only you could feel
I hate the fact
that when you hear ones name
you remember he was once your dame
I hate the fact
that you had to go
and you left me here with a broken soul
I hate the fact
that love was there
but left me in pain that one cant bare
I hate the fact
that memories hurt
and that nothing ever seems to ever work
I hate the fact
that i cry so much
that everyday i long to feel your touch
I hate the fact
that i cant move on
but maybe its something that can make me strong
poem by Miri Tuecemo
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To Hold and Handle
It had existed this before
It may also continue hereafter
Religion is the only means to be exploited
People's life and nation's fate is to related
Fanatics may be found even among moderates
They are found everywhere and openly support
Religion has now come to play a big role
Whether some one believes or not but it is real
Ask any one honestly and he will claim
No one may say I am human being first and shall remain
Not only shall that he boost to have sacred feeling
Proud to claim to be real fanatic and shall be willing
This may not be considered nice poem but may find favor
n changing world it has been claimed as honor
To uphold the identity aligned with religion
As it has been rooted deep in every region
We have tolerated enough under this context
Absorbed almost all as best as could
We are multi linguistic and multi religious
But efforts by others are on to destabilize it continuous
Only words don't suffice the need
Intelligentsias often act as link or feed
Fanatics are not as dangerous and propagandist
We only claim to be true tolerant and democratic
People jump in fray for simple excuse
They think narrowly and have different views
With religious point they may argue in favor
Where as the differences are in fact minor
Let us refrain from writing such articles
Favor with one and bias with another may land in trouble
We have got beautiful environment after great struggle
We should now be mature enough to hold and handle
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Why sex not dignified
Why not dignified?
It should be personified
Even if its importance not magnified
It has always remained defied
One knows the importance and fact
It is not underlined fact but a sacred act
The whole universe is product of such event
It needs no further comment
It has remained as mysterious as ever
We have misinterpreted it for ever
The fact is we can not do away with it
So at least praise and be with it
We are all by product of dignified act
We need not to camouflage it under any tact
The fact may remain as plain as white
We must acknowledge the fact and need not fight
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The honest liar
1. I have to tell you that
In the last conversation we had
All I told you were lies
And with all honesty now
I am telling you
That I am a liar.
2. When you asked me
Whether I am dying
I told you I am not
But I have only
A month to live
That is the truth
But look
I am not responsible for you
I am the one
That is dying here.
It is not you.
3. When we speak
I do not demand that
You tell me the truth
We are talking
Because we are here
What you say to me
Is none of my business
To require that you tell
Me the truth
Is in fact, an overburden
Our agreement is
Simple enough
That we just talk
It is nothing more
But a contract of presence
a conversation.
4. In fact what you say
Is the bonus
And it does not matter
Truth or falsehood
We just talk
For a while
While I am here
I am going somewhere
I am leaving
You will be left
And you still have
All the time to contrive
The choice is yours
I have none anymore
5. so that is it
Keep on talking
As I pretend I am listening
I keep on talking too
But my mind
Forgive me
Is somewhere else
You may not understand
It at first
But you will soon
Understand
This world is not simply meant
For one, for one like me.
Or for us.
6. at this stage
Truth and falsehood
Are irrelevant,
Out there
Is beyond truth and falsehood
It is our place.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Odessa - My Principessa
About many famous cities we can talk:
London, Paris, Naples or New York,
But when you walk along Odessa
You will love our principessa
If you are wise enough and not a bore.
The fact is such,
The fact is such:
There's no city in the world
I love so much.
You will smile to the famous Duke,
From the second hatch at him you'll look
And if he gives you the welcoming hand
You will have to understand
That Odessa is the smile of God.
The fact is such,
The fact is such:
There's no city in the world
I love so much.
The girls in our city are the pearls,
God gave them sense of humor and a charm.
You come here and you will see
The beauty of the bluest sea
And you will be surprised but not alarmed.
The fact is such,
The fact is such:
There's no city in the world
I love so much.
And Sasha Pushkin was an odessite,
As here he recalled a wonderous moment
He cursed and praised our and his Odessa
Because he really loved principessa,
Which was and is and always bright.
The fact is such,
The fact is such:
There's no city in the world
I love so much.
You can go any place you like
To New York, Paris or even London,
All of them are really so nice,
But in Odessa you'll be certainly surprised
By the smell of sea, acacia, cherry, linden...
The fact is such,
The fact is such:
There's no city in the world
I love so much.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Many Are The People
I see a tree.
But knowing what it goes through,
On a daily basis to be a tree...
I can't say I know.
Therefore,
A knowing about it...
I can not prove or show.
I see squirrels, birds, cats and dogs,
On a daily basis...
To be what is perceived are animals.
Are they more or less intelligent than you,
Or me?
I can not claim to know this.
None have I met to chat with personally.
And that applies to people.
Many are the people with different ethnicities.
Many are their languages spoken,
And only fluent am I in one of these.
With a labelling by races and religious philosophies.
But can I claim to know them?
Not really. That would be too presumptuous of me.
But there are those who claim to know,
What is unseen.
They claim to know what others do,
Without having them on the scene.
Walk down any street anywhere and hear folks say,
Something about someone else to belittle and demean.
And not know one thing about them but they do it anyway.
Many are the people who would have others believe,
They know everything about someone else...
Including their history.
And these very same people are the reason why,
There is confusion and chaos in other people's lives...
From an ignorance known that shows.
And that fact should be prioritized as an agenda to realize.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Poem For J.M.
you don't bother me
even if you leave even if you are gone for weeks
and you do not tell me where you are
if you curse me i simply listen
i am attuned to curses
since birth
i can always remember how curses
hurt for the first time
but often repeated and repeated like a chant
in fact it becomes
comforting on the idea that you still make me
feel that i exist
if you are a thorn
i refuse to be another thorn
how can a rose bloom
if we are all thorns
in the garden
of Eden?
you don't irritate me
i have all discarded what sensitivity is left inside me
there is no more
lethargy
neither can you find its opposite
that unworded
ecstacy
you see at the age of thirty
i have already known myself
well rounded stone
hard and smooth
and
freed from the freckles of feelings
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Here's To Gracious Endings
You'll never hear the breaking heart
I'll never hold you to the sparks
A fire that only burns in me
Was simply one, that shouldn't be
You never promised me romance
I've always known your circumstance
But in my heart, you sparked a flame
That held me to a foolish game
So many years I've been denied
A simple truth that you disguise
I've asked you, time and time again
To let me go…or let me in
Don't tell me that you want me now
Don't try to claim you care
If there ever was a moment, babe
I've not found it anywhere
Dig down deep, and let it out
You know what I'm talkin' about
Don't' keep holdin' up the lie
I see it buried in your eyes
I'm just not the girl I used to be
There's something hard inside of me
You woke me up, when you shook me down
Then left me hanging out to drown
But, the rain don't hurt me near as much
Cause it can't hurt, what it can't touch
I've locked my heart up in a cage
I've read the lines and turned the page
Don't tell me that you want me now
Don't try to claim you care
If there ever was a moment, babe
I've not found it anywhere
Seems this story had to end
So, let's not look back and claim we're friends
It's easier just to cut the ties
No more pretend, and no more lies
My heart's okay, I'll be just fine
I'll snap right back with a little time
Through it all, I've found relief
I won't be swallowed up by grief
So, here's to you, to what we've been
…And to never looking back again
Here's to life, and to new beginnings
…And too finding strength…in gracious endings
poem by Leria Hawkins
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Breaking Up
Do not think it hurts me bad
It doesnt hurt me none
It does not mean anything
Im fondling this gun
And I dont hurt that bad
And I dont miss you
I dont eat alone
Wishing I was eating with two
Its like a sad movie
They always get high ratings
In fact I feel like celebrating
I feel like celebrating
And do not think I ever thought that
This would really work
It was just sort of a casual thing
Like trying on a shirt
I dont sit home slone and stare
At your picture wishing that
You were still there
I never get lonely
In fact Im probably masturbating
In fact I feel like celebrating
I feel like celebrating
Oh goody! oh joy!
Im finally free
I no longer have to sit through
Your mothers casserole recipes
Oh joy! glee!
Im finally free
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Midst Of An Emergency
If the issues you have,
Only center around you and your way of life.
And how you have decided to live...
Why are your expectations as to how I should re-act,
With the knowing of that...
Should come to upset you with disappointment?
When was the last time you listened to anything I suggested?
And calling 911 to your home to taste an overbaked chicken,
I don't consider as being urgent.
I don't.
Maybe many others do.
But I don't.
And know this,
Your previous 'crisis' before that one...
Was, in fact, my last.
Especially when you expected me to cancel my dentist appointment.
To declare yourself to be in the midst of an emergency,
Only to admit a need to rush to the mall...
To purchase a pair of shoes you saw advertised on sale.
You don't realize just how petty and trivial the living of your life is,
Do you?
You don't realize at all others exist to experience more of life,
To witness...
Do you?
Who put that self importance in your head for it to clog?
Who did that to you?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Fake Friend Is At It Again.
I keep hearing these fake promises from fake friends.
Who needs them.
Stop lying.
Just exactly what are you trying to prove and to whom.
Next time your bored text somebody else.
Stop wasting my time with all the insincere pleasantries.
Like you actually care.
Do you now?
And do you think I do?
She kicked you out again didn't she.
You need a place to stay.
Oh but I'm suppose get you out of there.
I don't think so, not on my dime you must be out of your freaking mind.
I'm just not that interested in those who can't help themselves or admit the truth.
Your loss is not my problem.
Your created your mess so fix it.
I haven't spoken you in months, in fact I have been completely ignoring you.
To me I make it as if you don't even exist.
I pay more attention the garbage truck driving by then you.
A very long time ago I use to call you a friend.
But now I know better.
Your talk is cheap.
Your lies cost you steep.
Your a narcissist I just don't need.
A leech sucking the life out what ever you can.
Can I bum another dollar and some change for another beer, if you don't I'll just steal it from the money my girlfriend has been saving up for my kid.
Your one big guilt trip.
And I just don't feel that sorry for you.
Sit at home and play video games.
A claim to have mental disease so you don't have watch your very own kid.
Get a grip.
Get hold of yourself.
Come to back to the planet earth if you still can.
In till you do I'm just not talking you.
It is that simple.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Claim To Fame
What gives you this crazy thought
That you can talk to my woman
Whats your claim to fame
What gives you half a mind
To even think her name
Whats your claim to fame?
Whats your name?
Gonna give you just one more chance
To make amends to my woman
You got yourself to blame
Only thing thats left to do
Is to think real hard about what youre gonna do
About your crazy game
Whats your name?
Whats your name?
Who the hell do you think you are?
Whats your game?
Are you some top of the pops star?
What gives you this crazy thought
That you think you can talk to my woman
Whats your claim to fame?
What gives you half a mind
To even think her name
Whats your claim to fame?
Whats your name?
(charlton)
Copyright 1978 nazsongs/panache music ltd.
International copyright secured. all rights resereved.
1979 a&m records, inc.
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flying Blind
You must conform or when you die
you may not enter paradise
I won’t conform I’ll tell you why.
I don’t believe the blatant lies
of priests who claim to speak for God.
Each claim their way’s the only way.
In fact I find it very odd
that they believe or so they say.
In tolerance and charity
which all of them profess to teach
To me it is hypocrisy
not to practice that which you preach
But sadly there some who will
although they are forbidden to.
Set out determinedly to kill
all those who hold a different view.
I do not claim to speak for god
nor do I claim to speak for you.
Though you may find my beliefs odd
in my view you’re entitled to.
I will not try to convert you
or force you to accept my view
Because my friend I’m flying blind
like every last one of you.
16-Jul-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Everybody Can
Everybody can feel satisfied
He needs not to have lied
Trust even if expectations are bellied
As you had blindly relied
You need not have special qualification
To know the problem with root cause and question
It is sense of common knowledge
That may mature even before age
Education provide little edge
Individual may have leverage
Other things may rest on how you manage
As everything is new to be written on page
It is sheer ability and firm resolve
That makes task easy to solve
One may clearly see through the object
Success may be there as matter of fact
Love to work even if you are short of experience
The intelligence can be categorized with variance
Nobody can claim it merely on having expertise
It rests finally on the ability to materialize
Even uneducated and illiterate fair better
They achieve it by working together
Take the support of known persons
And show to the world with strong reasons
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Befriending Despair
i will talk to despair
since he is my friend
everything will be trivial
nothing serious
about some possible solutions
or explanations
about a tragedy
or death or suffering
and despair will talk to me
like i am his friend too
closer, closer,
that is what i want
despair
to do for me,
and i will
ask him
to write for me
a story
specifically, more about a fantasy,
nothing serious
we will not be talking about
family troubles
squabble over lost fortunes
black sheep
the prodigal son
the molested girl
the wife who serves as punching bag
for the drunkard
hopeless hubby
i would prefer
something about travel and
cuisine
or even money and
women
or honor or awards
or achievements
something that strikes
the lull of my taste-buds
the aha experience
those first times
honeymoon, or victory balls
Christmas parties
mama's reconciliation with papa
first born,
that earthly communion
we will not talk about pain
or separation
or broken homes
or failing to make it in life
those horrible failures
that inability to rise up
from a fall
and i will not
mention
how in those years,
he has hurt me so
badly
like i were not human
anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Writer's Disposal
Hurt and tense are writer's slaves
So she'll slash through page by page
Burning holes with vivid tongue
Still the feeling strikes as young
Through and through this time again
Misery welcomes her like a friend
Slash and slash and through and through
She spells her feelings as if they're new
Instead of skin she beats a page
A healthy cure, sure, lest she names
These demons, the things that she writes about
That she names other names to give them doubts
Things like this she knows all too well
Her hurts and pains often etch the spell
Before she even thinks to open her eyes
She's solved her feelings with a metaphor for cries
These nameless names named through and through
She possibly could be writing of you
And name you a snake; what harm is there in that?
Proof, invalid; your name is intact
These nameless things she knows all too well
You might not know but help etch her spell
Because intended or vicious, her works are neither
You'd ask what they're about; but she might not know either
poem by Dayna Mortimore
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