An Important Woman in Class...
you are too small and no one
notices you in the class of legal minds but
you should have known
it is only you that i see and no one else
but i know how to
conceal maxims and suppress rules and
display what everyone normally sees
in us,
and so perhaps until now you never have known
the definition of what
importance is what necessary is what
is....that being that refuses to know
what must have been known
quite well
a very long time ago
mute, blind, deaf,
out there, lurking hiding in a name...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Loneliness Of The Untiring Writer
with equanimity i write for this audience,
deaf,
blind,
mute,
....imagine some monkeys and rats, and worms and squirrels
mute, blind, deaf,
i have no regret at all,
their hearts are bigger than the islands of paradise,
the mute claps with three hundred hands,
the blind sings with all the angelic voices in tens of hundreds
the deaf dances like some kind of a wiggling worm
vitally replicating its numbers geometrically
there is still this
wanting to be caught by a hungry
black bird
it is the silence of the mute that speaks so loudly
like a speaker of the house,
it is the restlessness of the deaf that shakes me,
and i tremble like a cymbal clanging ceaselessly
the chants of the blind, mystifies me,
scented cinders, lighted candles, fireflies on the trees
conclusion: we have become one happy family
and tonight, i will be writing some more for them
I've got no other valuable audience anyway.
and, let me finally add,
it is only my dead mother who still loves me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Deaf-Mute
A deaf-mute brings a cup of tea!
A cup of tea with love so rare;
Love uncommonly seen, I stare;
How do I thank her for her charity?
Often by her mother chided;
A servant in her own house, unpaid;
A deaf-mute, she remains, since birth!
Wearing a smile and full of mirth;
A face quite content to the core;
I want to love her all the more;
My heart with anguish wants to cry;
For unfair things, men often try;
To scores of deaf-mute creatures,
God, a DEAF-MUTE, Himself remains!
poem by John Celes
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The Dastardly Task
One long, dry legal text, I'm trying
my best, one long dry legal text, but
nevertheless, however I try, I cannot
finish it, my head's starting to crack
I suffer for lack of oxygen, my skin is
shrivelling and nothing seems thrilling
in this long dark night of a legal text, I
cannot utter a word to reveal my plight
Or fight against my inner being, mute,
immobile, without typing because when
I try, time seems to dry up in front of my
face, psychosomatic fatigue indicates
I need people to talk to, the doll faces
keeping me company can't lift the veil of
darkness and the terrible legal text goes
on and on, I have been abandoned
By the forces of life, bitterness filling my
heart - though as soon as a joyful thing
happens again bitterness will be erased,
my soul shall soar as it always does
When wonderful ideas take my thoughts
into the higher realms of joy and delight,
but for now, let me be mute and tackle
the dastardly task of my terrible text
Shedding little parts of my heart as I carry
the yoke eating into my mind, destroying
my joy and my life
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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SUPERB...by Talile Ali
THE LAWS ARE ANXIOUS
THE RULES ARE STRICT
DON'T HAVE THE TIME
DON'T HAVE THE DICK
MARKETING FREEDOM
OF THE MIND
COST A SMALL FORTUNE
TO UNWIND
IMAGES PASS BY
GLORY TO CHASE
FEELING SO HURRIED
LOOKIN' FOR GRACE
THINGS YOU DON'T NEED
CAUSE IS CONFINED
IT'S ENTERTAINMENT
HELP YOU GO BLIND
THE TRUTH IS MASKED
TO CONCEAL ALL THE LIES
WHAT YOU WERE GIVEN
WON'T BE NO SURPRISE
SUPERB
poem by Talile Ali
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Everything Is Kiling Me....
As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
There's room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
poem by Adnan Zahedi
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To live in peace one must be blind, deaf, and mute.
Working Class Hero
As soon as you're born they make you feel small,
By giving you no time instead of it all,
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool,
Till you're so f***ing crazy you can't follow their rules.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years,
Then they expect you to pick a career,
When you can't really function you're so full of fear.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV,
And you think you're so clever and classless and free,
But you're still f***ing peasants as far as I can see.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
There's room at the top they are telling you still,
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill,
If you want to be like the folks on the hill.
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.
If you want to be a hero well just follow me,
If you want to be a hero well just follow me.
song, music by John Lennon, lyrics by John Lennon from John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (11 December 1970)
Submitted by anonym
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A deaf man heard how a mute told that a blind man has seen how a cripple walked.
On An Island
on an island of light
there are scribblers within and without it
all mute all blind all deaf
and i am one of them always keeping things
so private.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Small Minds
Small minds truly think alike, while, we have the mind of Christ,
For Christ has a Glorified mind, one which is of an eternal kind,
So all believers think far above, small minds, which I speak of,
Those believing there’s no God, and limited to this earthly sod.
We’re seated in heavenly realms; small minds, this overwhelms,
Seated in Heaven with Jesus Christ, Who’s given us eternal life,
A thought that is much too tall, for their thinking, which is small,
Small enough to dismiss Truth, that from God has all the proof.
All the proof man could need, to believe, but they will not heed,
Since they dismiss The Creator, they have no need for a Savior,
But, in due time they’ll find, they were mislead, by a small mind,
By the thinking much too small, to accept God, Who is over all.
We may be shallow in their eyes, however, in Christ we are wise,
With the mind of Christ our Savior, as we embraced our Creator,
The One Who created all we see, The Lord God over all Eternity,
Christ is Lord, over all, my friend, as all shall see come the end.
But the small minds can change, in the Power of Christ’s Name,
When they see they were blind, they too can have Christ’s mind,
By repenting to turn to God’s Son, the very Creator of everyone,
When God’s Truth they believe, the mind of Christ they’ll receive.
Poetry Is Not Just Feelings
i have long said
that there is no definition to poetry
it is
sui generis, a class of its own,
a evolution of meanings and a transfiguration of words
into substances beyond
the limitations of our minds,
if you say that poetry is feelings
what is then
those that we have not even felt and yet
strikes us as
poetic?
an enlightenment for instance
a divine revelation handed in a dream
in the form of metaphors
what about those that strike us
like a red wheelbarrow glazed with the rain
beside those white chickens?
what about those live frogs in the imaginary gardens
of our minds?
what about a new philosophy of life?
or the promiscuity of the glands?
there are no boxes that can contain all these
in one container
let the poem be just a river
going anywhere
let it just be the sea taking us anywhere
let it be the waves
to and fro arriving everywhere
or what? you name it, you 'll have it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Keep The Head High
An eye sees everything
But the other does not…
An ear hears everything
But the other does not…
What an honest combination!
A mind sees your virtues
But the same mind sees your vices…
A heart longs for you dear,
But the same heart rejects your love near…
What a dishonest mindset it is you think!
But among the blind around,
Then among many a deaf
And the heartless beasts that surround
You have to know my dear,
I ever keep my head high.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Our national media refuses to report that even the Supreme Court did not say marriage was a human right in all cases nor did it say that the heterosexual definition violated anyone's right or that the heterosexual definition of marriage was unconstitutional.
quote by Stockwell Day
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Deadly Chemical Fallout
If your neck isn’t broken...look up!
What you see may blow your mind
World governments lie to cover-up
Hoping we remain deaf, mute n’ blind
poem by Ray Lucero
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Sing!
LET THOSE
who have no voice
sing
let the mute talk
let the blind see
let the deaf hear
let the maim walk
LET THOSE
who have no courage
fight
God tells us so.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Even the Beautiful Can Be Ugly
Whether emotionally made to be that way,
Even the beautiful can be ugly.
On display.
To be thin of depth and self reflection.
With beliefs instilled,
That begins a centeredness one notices.
As one finds it easy,
To get needs pleased quicker.
For reasons that are kept on surfaces.
And confirmed by comments,
Heard and expressed.
A society obsessed with the physicality,
Of appearances just to impress...
One day comes to face,
The shallow importance placed
On exterior façades.
To one day find itself at odds...
With those of superficial values.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Goodbye Mr. Ed
The ghost of manhattoes
Shrieking as they fall
From at&t
Someone sees it all
Goodbye mr. ed
Andys skull enshrined
In a shopping mall near queens
Someone sees it all
Icarus takes his pratfall
Bruegel on his head
Goodbye mr. ed
Four and twenty black kids
Some of them are blind
Someone sees it all
Tolerance of violence
By the fellows with no heads
Goodbye mr. ed
Some things are so big
They make no sense
Histories so small
People are so dense
Someone sees it al
Goodbye mr. ed
Some things are so big
They make no sense
Histories so small
People are so dense
Someone sees it al
Goodbye mr. ed
Never mind the pistols
They laid the golem eggs
Others came to hatch them
Outside the pale
Someone sees it all
Goodbye mr. ed
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Parole Boards Mar 11th,2011
I doubt that I will ever be a parole board appointee,
Those who make these appointments would nod their heads and agree,
This important issue is never brought up at election time,
Because they don’t live in an area where there’s lots of crime.
Those appointed to the parole boards tend to be a certain class,
Inclined to let criminals out of jail and give others a free pass,
Impressed by their establishment status, importance and power,
Looking down from some legal Ottawa courthouse tower.
So it seems there’s something wrong that no one will point out,
Therefore constituents don’t know what this is all about,
Until some early released idiot commits another crime,
But why can’t the system be changed, time after time after time?
Mar 11th,2011
poem by James Bredin
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Dead Man Walking
[bonus track]
All of you here that are secretly dead
Just lifeless shells, consumed and bled
Oblivious to reason and you are blind
Follow the trends to share a single mind
You are so blind to the lie
I can see into the void of you mind
Hiding behind eyes of black
A dead man I will find
Kneel to the savior who really cares less
His holy eyes fill you with fear and dread
Obey those rules from ancient history
Forgotten words that mean nothing to me
You are so blind to the lie
I can see into the void of you mind
Hiding behind eyes of black
A dead man I will find
song performed by by Fear Factory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Que sera sera, whatever will be will be
Three blind girls did sing
This que sera sera song
This whatever will be will be
Their voices did blend well
Their bodies stiff in their darkness
Since birth then today they come
On a heavenly cause
The three blind girls did make us cry
As we all watch them
How long have we been blind too?
Uncaring about those with disabilities?
Those who are deaf, and blind and mute
Those who cannot sing and walk and talk
We watch them sing we saw our tears falling
Have they too opened our eyes from this stark blindness?
I still cry today, though there is no need for you to see,
I, too, grapple, with my wide eyes open
This darkness at high noon
This muteness with my gaping mouth wide open
This silence amidst the boiling noise
Inside these vast and empty halls
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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