En.Citatepedia^®.ro

A Story To Tell....

the images of light
like needles from the sun this morning

actually, there are no threads
and nothing to sew

actually, there are no significances
except some few

every word must have a story for you
and you may ask me

but always i agree to disagree with you
words have their own lives their own existence

i am only a vehicle
i am only a body to this ghost

for we are nothing but wings of some black birds
that hover on our backs

when they are through they all leave us
and they take all the wings they have given us in our imagination

we fall asleep and when when we wake up
we check if we are still us mirrored in the pond of still waters

our hands touch our faces
sliding through our smooth bodies

then we say, goodbye black bird
and thank you for making us live all over again.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Black Bird...

it was her black bird
first that saw and i never stopped thinking since then
figuring what is the meaning of having
those black wings
flying
and to where is this direction heading?

from my mouth is borne the
blackbird bearing my own name
at the tip of its
beak
and it is flying now too low to touch
the needles of the pines

do you not see that it is tired
and wants to hover on one of those twigs?

how can you relate to blackbirds?
they grown from our throats and comes out
from our lips
and they keep on flying
wishing you can keep it flying still
higher and higher
until you finally give up
and tell the truth
about its
flesh and bones
until you remove all its black feathers
and burn all them
for the gods to smell.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Turn Around

Jimmy saw the sun chase away the night
It was a quarter past seven
His body warm like the morning light
Had to be in school by eleven

He told himself what they had done to him
That's why Jimmy never felt real sad
If only someone could have lent a hand
Things would have never turned out so bad

Who knows why black flies just live for one day
Who knows why
Hey turn around
It's time to wake up and go back to tell the story
Hey turn around
It's time to wake up and go back to tell the story now

Always sat alone in the back of the class
Because no one would take him
Today he stood in front of the rest
His hands were shaking

Who could have known what Jimmy thought
Never had a chance to speak his words out loud
The flies were burning in his head till
Jimmy let them all out

Who knows why black flies just live for one day
Who knows why

Hey turn around
It's time to wake up and go back to tell the story
Hey turn around
It's time to wake up and go back to tell the story now

It didn't pay to make fun of him
Too late to say

song performed by by Green Lizard from Identity
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Black Bird Dead

three black birds high
up in the air
flying
playing this early morning
on their
swift wings

i heard a single shot from the
hill and one black bird fell
the other two birds continue
to fly away
so frightened

they continue flying away
from that hill

a man with a brown cap emerges
and picks a dead black bird
on the rocky ground

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Three Black Birds High Up In The Air

three black birds high
up in the air
flying
playing this early morning
on their
swift wings

i heard a single shot from the
hill and one black bird fell
the other two birds continue
to fly away
so frightened

they continue flying away
from that hill

a man with a brown cap emerges
and picks a dead black bird
on the rocky ground

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black Capricon Day

Hey hey
Hey hey
Let the rain come down on me
Hey, hey, hey, hey
I see people and theyre craving blood
And Im so rarely understood
Well I dont know what they want from me,
Its gonna take sometime just to let them see
Im going through a black, hey capricorn day
And though it doesnt seem so
Im going through a black hey capricorn day
Though you want to check me out
Im not the man to play, play, play, play.
Hey hey
Dont you see Im not the man to play
Hey hey
No way you can play with me today
Hey hey
Just let me sing it to my capricorn day
Hey hey
My heart is a pure sun and the sky is black
And I can feel cold steel when I turn my back
It stings like needles, with a jagged tongue
You know this scream reminds me
Of when I was so young
I never had any of those
Black hey capricorn days
Though it doesnt seem so
Ive got to get this way
Im going through a black hey capricorn day
And though you want to check me out
Im not the man to play, play, play, play
Its just to black for me
Its just too black
Im stuck on the highway
Leading straight to hell
Like any other drifter with a soul to sell
You know Im dealing with the devil
In everyone I meet
And their faces tell a story,
That life aint so sweet
Im going through a black, hey capricorn day
And though it doesnt seem so
Im going through a black hey capricorn day
Though you want to check me out
Im not the man to play, play, play, play.
Hey hey

song performed by by Jamiroquai
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paradox (edited)

the gods of the little nook
universe have cursed me not to be happy and not to be able
to say what i really want in order to live fully.

i know my hands
i know the significance of each line in my palm
but the words are like forceps
that are pulling my nerves

the pains are indescribable
but it is only my silence that is the clue to my redemption

i am put in a box where i am fed some trickles of light from leaks
like pores of my skin

i know what to say but when i say the first word
the box starts to tremble it is forbidden

i tried it once and some of my roots were cut
fate is treating me like a tree without leaves

out there in the fields i see images that please me
shadows of love and bliss and immeasurable joy
the immensity of my humanity

i am sure if i touch one of those little things
sands of diamonds
my back shall grow its own eagle
wings

i have never done the things that i did in dreams
my immense joy immeasurable
i am powerless as an ant whose legs are cut
when i wake up

i boast to those who follow me that i am a black bird with shiny feathers and that i have flown both edges of the world
that i am bringing with me all sorts & songs of happiness

they have never seen my heart they only heard how it sings so well
i am glad

sometimes i wish that i have a mastery of who i really am
i am free i am chained i am at war with what i was.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Who And What We Are And What We Do

you are the witch of the night
and i am the wizard too
and so here we are
roaming the night with our black wings
on half bodies

we are looking for words
and metaphors
to eat

we have separated our minds
and bodies

there will be more insomniac nights
and more bloody encounters
among ourselves

some blood and flesh will fall on the ground unnoticed
tomorrow morning
some flowers with red petals grow
the passersby will smell the
odor of our lives

we are the poets and the poetesses
without our names in the books
of their collections

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An Allegory Of Our Sinless Meeting....

beyond our two flesh
i hang on
to the twig of the
divine
i am the black bird
with a wide
span of wings
i am heavier
than a stone on your
neck
but i carry on
like a cliffhanger
i will let my body fall
and i shall not use
my wings

i trust the sea
and i am a friend of the
full moon.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Little Paradox Spoken Tonight Aroused By Extreme Pressure

the gods of the little nook
universe
has cursed me
not to be happy and not to be able
to say
what i really want in order to live fully.
i know my hands
i know the significance of each line in my palm
but the words are like forceps
that are pulling my nerves

the pains are indescribable
but it only my silence that is the clue
to my redemption

i am put in a box
where i am fed some trickles of light from leaks
like pores
of my skin

i know what to say but when i say the first word
the box starts to tremble
it is forbidden

i tried it once and some of my roots were cut
fate is treating me like a tree without leaves

out there in the fields
i see images that please me
shadows of love and bliss and
immeasurable joy

i am sure if i touch one of those
my back shall grow its wings

i have never done the things i did in dreams
i am powerless as an ant whose legs are cut

i boast to those who follow me
that i am a black bird with shiny feathers and that i have flown
both edges of the world
that i am bringing with me
all songs of happiness

they have never seen my heart
they only heard how it sings so well
i am glad

sometimes i wish that i have a mastery of who i really am
i am free i am chained.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Raven

Dark bird
Black raven with black wings,
Black eyes as dark as midnight,

Wind flutters his wings,
Shadows turn his head,
And movement catches his stare.

He looks down upon you and watches in dismay,
No black is with in you,
No night in your eyes,

No wings to up lift you,
No shadow to attract you,
And movements pass your gaze.

A raven, A raven, A moonlight silhouette.

poem by Mmm Davis
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Flying Away?

i like to see the image of a lone bird flying away from me
two steady wings carrying a very light body of blue feathers
a kingfisher flying away against the morning sun
moving nowhere getting farther until it becomes a blue dot
dissolving in the distance that your eyes can no longer see

i sometimes like to think i am that bird flying away
from where i am
because this place is sad and cruel
i like to fly away
to leave everything behind me and then simply forget
and make new beginnings
as easy as that

sometimes however i ask myself:
where shall i go?
nowhere?
just nowhere?
where is nowhere?

just fly away and go
and leave and

then what?
i ask myself these real questions
calling for rational answers
begging
that i be reasonable enough with my life
and the life of others
who also depend
on me

it is not an easy stuff,
just flying away to nowhere and destruct
everything i build here:
a nest, an odor of familiarity,
a sense of home
(though sad and cruel)
a name for myself
a reputation
a family history
an ancestral domain

shall i go then and be foolish?

i am not a bird, i am a man
that is a very serious existence apart from those feathery wishes and dreams
with responsibilities, i have no wings just arms, i have no feathers
but this body

i am not just a bird, i have a soul
and so i decided to stay

with you.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Everytime I Look At You

such a feeling
though i have no wings of the bird
i know i can fly

such a high state of my
mind
my heart begins to have the wings
of the bird
flying to the skies

such a foolishness
i pinch myself
this is going absurd
since you are not here
such a stupidity of my
imagination going berserk
such pain
making me fear the light
such darkness
humiliating my own little light
left flickering
and with a slight blow of the
hush from the dusts of the curtain

dies.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Good Morning Self

i wake up
checking my navel.

i face the mirror
to see my eyes
blinking

a face blinking
i am happy to note

that i am not bound
anymore
to that which
obsessed me last night

oversleeping over
a naked body inside my mind

this morning
as i open the window of my room

i see a black bird
rushing like a stone thrown
into a white sky

a stone with the wings
of the wind

good morning self
goodbye
persistent lust

before i forget
i got a new mask

an office man
with a very serious face

no jokes
just benign remarks
about today's
winning politician

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Restlessness In Stillness....

....because i am discontented
here i am making it my own way, because no one remembers
here i am remembering me,
because.....
no one satisfies my hunger and thirst here i go
trekking my way
into everywhere, and tired, and
disappointed, here i am
making a set of wings for me,
these wings without the feathers of a bird,
these wings without need of
a wind,

because i feel so alone, here i am, inventing
company,
i give birth to words, and sentences
myself with
all its punishments,
this newly found joy in the prison of my thoughts
in the vast expanse
universe of my endless and
limitless imagination

this self without a river
this river without water and stones
this floating
existence

an angel without a wing

because i am never appeased
here i am exploding my own firecracker

a boy driving his demons away
with the use of one finger

because i have more to say
in this fear
here i am unceasingly writing

who knows if i finally find you and then
i can absolve myself and after telling everything
i can finally find
my own resting place

here i am, silent and still and staring.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bad Karma....

Free from the usual bind
You surge as another star in that black sky
You like your wings
Feeling like a young bird
You hover on one of those
Heavenly branches
Somehow time catches up
with you
it has its own long fingers
It is squezzing your heart
For some important memories
That you have been ungrateful
In forgetting

You fall down
From such a height
Time does not kill you
You suffer

A woman watches you with so much pity
And then looks to the other side
And walks away

Her heart is bleeding
She wants your wings too
She changes her mind and walks away

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Word Is Just A Word

a word is just a word
and it may come from somewhere else
from a very far place
because a word like a bird has wings
and it has feet and it may hover
on my hair and make a nest there

like this poem
and that poem of pain and that poem of joy
and that poem that you have read and
made me the man crying in pain inside those lines

for a poem is just a poem
and it may come from somewhere else
from a very far, far place
about someone else
because a poem is like a bird with wings
with feet and with feathers and it may hover
inside my heart
and make a house there
and i am there too
emphatizing.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Complaceny

from my hands
you little bird with a black beak
shall take the grains

i wait for time to grow you
strong wings so you can fly away and join
your family

and then you have wings
why do you want to stay still in my house
pecking the grains in my hands?

what is it
that you love on the lines of my palms?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Big Black Rabbit

A big black rabbit passed right under the moon
On great dark wings to soar and swoon.
I called, “Oh great black rabbit where are you off? ”
An old fool beside me did chuckle and cough
“That’s just a raven, which is only a bird.”
The old man drew out slowly each word.
But it was a rabbit that I saw soaring,
My cause for assurance is birds are boring.

poem by Matt Johnston
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Twist 5

he lives in two worlds
he has one body, his hands
break when he changes places
his heart is tough
his mind always finds
two explanations
two worlds never reconcile
it is this
neither nor situation
whatever his eyes see
are beautiful
his hands cannot touch any one
when he touches it
there is death

somehow for all those years
there must be a compromise between
water and oil

and so he lives in two worlds
every morning he rises to live
at night
he sleeps to die
and it has been happening
since then

in the house everyone like to love
him
in one condition that there must only be
one world
and so every hour he lives in fear
every minute

but like a dog he learns the tricks
he is young
two worlds live within him
one body one imagination

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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He Must Have Improved Into A Better Variety

for now he is speedy
like light penetrating the tainted
glass of the
church window

for now he speaks the tongues
of the foreigner

for now he understands
the meaning of shadows
and the accent of
the winds
that come inside his
framed windows

for now he does not
wait
for any moment
he goes and goes like
a bird without a map
for its wings

for now he is
carried by the streams of his consciousness
and he does not ask
any question anymore

for now he does not bleed
for he has healed himself
as his mouth waters
for the smell of his new breakfast
in bed

for now he makes love
throughout the night
and sleeps on the day
filling his skull with
all these dancing dreams

for now he has the wings of the
big black bird
taking him
in the places of anywhere
in the timelessness of anywhen.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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