En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Appeasing Our Shortcomings...

as i open the door
leaving the room where you are praying
you touch my butt
i caress your breasts
only for such short
time,
we are decorating disappointment
with such
teasing,
simply because we have done nothing
really
to please the flesh and
to appease
our shortcomings.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Teasing Moon....

sometimes to
complete the woodenness of the floor
you simply have to close the door
make the planks
exclusive to
its beams
with all the nails
sleeping

the windows with open eyes
beg to be exempted
from the hassle
of privacy

the view of the sea making love to the sky
is simply irresistible
the moon is teasing you to take the boat

but to do this you need to open the door of the house
where no one lives.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Could Have

i could have kissed you on your lips
and hugged you tight
and caressed your breasts
and licked your whole
white soft body

that night all i did was simply imagine
savoring your eyes
with my gaze
i did not even caress your hair
and touch
your finger

that night i was so foolish
when you left
i did not bother asking you to stay

i was so foolish
i simply wrote you this poem

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Caress Me, Baby!

Caress me, baby!
Make it sweet.
Make it feel good...
Enough for me to want to eat.
And...
Caress me, baby!
Hold me tight.
Make me feel...
Satisfied and alright,
At night.

Ah-ah...
Ah ah ah ah ah ah.
Ah-ah,
Ah-ah!
Caress me, baby!
Caress me, baby!

Let's squeeze as we sit...
Feeling it.
Without teasing,
Or resisting one bit!

Let's kiss our lips...
As we droan with desire.
Moaning on in bliss!

Caress me, baby!
Make it sweet.
Let's reminisce this...
Each time we meet.

Ah-ah...
Ah ah ah ah ah ah.
Ah-ah,
Ah-ah!
Caress me, baby!
Caress me, baby!

'Close your grill...
It's time to sizzle.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Allegory Of The Cycle Of Doors

and so there is this door that appears before you
and you open it
and then when you enter the room
another door appears
this is the cycle of doors that keep on appearing and you
keep on opening
but the room still appears from a distance
always distant
from your eager feet to enter
you say to enter the room i must please the door
but the room moves away just the same
and the door tells you
to keep the room
you have to burn it and when the room is burned
the door finally disappears
and then both the door and the room shall tell you
now be happy
for you now have a house of your own

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Doing Justice To Love?

justice is an
eternal search
a way of
balancing
that does not
balance
at all, or sometimes
maybe
when you feel you
are near it
and yet it becomes
too slippery
to your touch

this morning i
like to tell you that
i like to do justice
to love

that i have not rendered
what is due it
that i am a kind of
a shortcoming
a big lapse
a slippery hand that slips
away from your
body

i like to tell that you
i am unjust
not having loved you so
well
or even if i want to
i simply can't

you are running with time
you are short of it
and at the last hour of
the rush you tell
me that it is time to leave
and that something
shall be done

you kiss my forehead
not my lips
you tell me ' i love you'
and then
you say 'bye'

i have not told you anything
because i know
that you are returning
because i know that i am
not

or must i contrive about
new choices
that there are many ways of
loving you

that there comes a time
when the moon is full and
we are together
under its light and we say
that despite everything
those lapses and
shortcomings we keep on
that hold

we love each other no matter
what
even if we do not love even if we
feel nothing
even if we are deprived
of any emotion
even if the shallowest feeling
does not touch
us with its fingers again
the fingers of a
child
unborn.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Needing An Angel

Empty and lost
in this nightmare,
Tears caress my cheeks,
crying for an angel's whisper
that will make me touch heaven.

I lie praying that i'll be saved,
Took away and freed from this pain,
Tears caress my cheeks,
Crying for an angel's whisper
that will make me touch heaven.

My praying was not in vain,
I'm now happy and at peace,
The tears that once caressed my cheeks have been dried away
by the angel's whisper,
That helped me touch heaven.

poem by Natalie Hawksley
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As I Wait For For You

and then our minds met at a point
of convergence
i waited for you in a room without a number
a place without a name
a space where only us know what & how to fill

i am naked
you want the whole truth and so i am naked
in this room without a number, a place without a name
a space, where only our self-manifested emptiness know how & what to fill

when you arrive do not call my name
be so soft and gentle with your feet
do not even say your name as
i have also left my name somewhere else
and it is only i who knows it

i lose my identity
that is how i want to spend my short moment with you

i am naked
i only have my face, my skin and my flesh my bones my whole body
not my soul

do not knock
just push the door
it is left open throughout the nights of my waiting
i have intended it that way
so when you arrive and i am still asleep with my dreams and desires
of you
do not disturb the silence and sweetness of my sleep

just whisper your desire for love so sweet to my ears
touch the surfaces of my skin and caress with your soft fingers the smooth lines of my face
place your head just beside my tight chest
for there you shall hear the sounds of all my desires
and then my love we begin the sharing of our hidden truths
we shall dance in our nakedness

we shall make love real
we shall open the shutters of this closed window
we let the slits of light from outside the night get inside us and put some
warmth on the empty pores of our skins

we bring light to the darkness of our lives
we put fire to those eyes that refuse to close and die

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You're Praying

every time you stop to help
someone stuck on the side
of the road... you're praying.
every time you go over
and help your neighbor
mow his grass... you're praying.
every time you give a couple dollars
to the down and out person
bumming in the parking lot....
you're praying.
every time you take the time
to listen to someone whose
life is falling apart... you're praying.
every time you go and give blood
during your lunch hour...
you're praying.
every time you stand up
for the person everyone else
is running down... you're praying.
every time you take in a
stray dog or cat... you're praying.
every time you give more
than you have to give... you're praying.
every time you care
when no one thinks you should...
you're praying!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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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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Praying To A New God

(feldman / chandler / hues)
What got into you got into me too
What came over you is coming over me
Feel like Ive had enough of all the old stuff
I saw the writing on the wall on my t.v.
Its another second coming, like it or not, yeah,
Oh yeah
Its another second coming, like it or not
You better start praying to a new god
Start praying, praying to a new god
Start praying to a new, new god
Theyre saying the devils got a new job
Start praying to a new--
A lot of babel came down the cable
Everybody can be famous for a day
From shore to shore
A big department store
Is all thats left of the american way
Its another second coming, like it or not, yeah,
Oh yeah
Its another second coming, like it or not
You better start praying to a new god
Start praying, praying to a new god
Start praying to a new, new god
Start praying what are you afraid of
Start praying to a new--
Theres a big world
In the street outside
In their uniform of pride
And theyve all come
To see a star from the east
Is he man or beast?
Decide
Feel like Im crucified, still Im not satisfied
The second coming is coming anyway
I hear them pray for more on every dance floor
I hear the word go out across the milky way
Its another second coming, like it or not, yeah,
Oh yeah
Its another second coming, like it or not
You better start praying to a new god
Start praying, praying to a new god
Start praying to a new, new god
Success and moneys what hes made of
Start praying to a new--
Start praying, praying on the freeway
Start praying to a new, new god
Start praying, praying on the airwaves
Start praying to a new god
Start praying, praying at the back door
Start praying to a new, new god
Start praying, praying on the dance floor
Start praying to a new god

song performed by by Wang Chung
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Another Night with Miss Pinkie

Miss Pinkie (she dropped
the title Mrs from
her name ages ago)
lay on the sofa

and said
take me if you want
spank me if you will
and he stood

looking at her
a glass of scotch
in his hand
the music of Mahler's

symphony number 4
coming through the door
from an outer room
she lay butt naked

her amble flesh
spread out
her hands resting
on her breasts

who's the orchestra
on the Mahler piece?
he asked
can't remember

she said shifting slightly
her blue eyes searching him
aren't you going to oblige?
she said

he drank back
the scotch
and put the glass down
on the small coffee table

can I sit first?
sure
she said and sat up
and moved over

to allow him room
beside her
he gazed at her
at her dyed blonde hair

at her eyes deep
like oceans of blueness
knowing she had
19 years upward on him

and all she wanted
was a few hours
of talk and laughter
and a leisurely screw

one of the old guys
died at the home today
he said
out of the blue

oh which one?
she asked
the one who sat
in his room each day

and looked out
the window
and said next to nothing
oh him

she said
think he was
broken hearted
she added

he took in
the beauty spot
on her cheek
like Marilyn used

to have years ago
so how about it?
she asked
are you ready for it?

the Mahler piece softened
some moving movement
well?
she said placing

a hand on his thigh
maybe you could put
on Brahms for a change
he said

sensing her hands
move upwards
maybe
she said softly

if you're a good boy
the lights were low
the lights from the street
added a different shade

of glow
ok
he said
and her hands moved

and did their work
and so did his
bit by bit
time over time

the music playing on
in the background
that and flesh slapping
and the sofa squeaking

was the symphony
of a sexual sound.

poem by Terry Collett
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Caress

A caress can be the simple touch
A friendly squeeze of one’s shoulder

Can also mean so very much
When caress becomes a bit bolder

A caress can be a gentle tug
On tresses spread cross shoulder

A warm reassurance that all is well
When all else seems to grow colder

A contact of comfort to a wee girl child
With love from the mum that holds her

Just the simple touch
of a caring caress,

A squeeze of one’s hand
That Can strengthen the weak

Is what we want and need
No more, …no less

Just a touch on the brow…
A pat on the cheek

Just a kind, warm caress…
As we all grow older

poem by David Whalen
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Something Wild

That fugitive dream
of shrinkage:
a room in a room
a door in a door.
You were hurting the house affairs
at midnight.

The space accident
starts dismanteling the life.
Selective pain
comes again.
You start distancing from story touch,
long vision.

The canary brings down
the roof. Somebody was leaving.
The eyes will search another sky,
another tree.
In a light slumber
another fall from the perch.

poem by Satish Verma
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The art of living

at the center of my room
delight
on fresh roses
like your
red lips

on my bed
soft and warm silk blankets
strawberry juice on the side table
and cherry on the
glass

the window is open
fresh air from the sea
cools the room

silence is gold here
and solitude is silver

every moment is
a moment
every hour is not a rush
but on softer touch

every inch of skin
is a caress
every thought is
beautiful

every reality is true
embracing and embraced

this is the art of living
every second a relaxation

sleep comes on cat's feet
like a cloud drifting away

peace in the corner
privacy in my door

and yes, love is always
air-conditioned.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Closed Door

on that day i lost the key
to the room
i waited for some solutions
breaking the locks
and open the door
or climbing on the other side
and entering through the window
but my arms for intrusion
are weaker now
my hands tremble at the thought
that once in my childhood
i did climb walls and break open
the window
and was so badly beaten

i keep on waiting for some solutions
until i realized that anyway
this is not my room and there is nothing
in there and so
not being that foolish
i simply walked away

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Trusting No Light

you wrap my body with your breasts
and i face the pillow my body presses
on the softness of materiality, you run
your fingers on my arms looking for
the secrets of my flesh, and i keep my
hands steady on the railing of the bed.

you whisper to my ear the tradition that
in true love there are no more secrets.
i smile to the white linen and i close my
eyes back to the horrors of my pasts.

you put your chin on my shoulder and
you kiss my hair and you caress my
head and neck down to my hip and butt.

you kiss me again and you signal that i
now must face you in this intimacy. And
i look at you and gently i kiss you in return.
I am Cupid and you are Psyche. I must tell
you again, i trust no light. Love exists

by itself, through itself, for itself, & in-itself.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Key And The Closing Of The Door

half open, you signify a little doubt
about what to do,
there is this dichotomy about leaving and entering
at the middle of a decision,
one stops to ponder whether who at the end is hurt

will it be just myself? or someone else,
someone you like to love but cannot

then you go outside and close the door behind you
locking it and taking the key
you own the world now, what is inside that room
no one can take away,
in this case, there is the decision to come back
until the mind
settles for the big thing
whatever is it
you cannot say it
for the meantime that you still have the key in your hand

time passes. You let it simmer
defrost the hardness of the cold

then you come back and open the door again
nothing taken, but this time you leave the key under the rag
and you tell somebody,
the one you love, that the key is there
and it is all
hers.

that is the saddest thing that you can do.
but i know, inside, it is the happiest thing that you have done in your entire life

ever.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Lonely Man

he finished reading a poem
by frost
sips his coffee
and looks to the sea
from his window
inside a room
with a locked door

alone
in order to forget
he begins to caress himself

he begins to do
what he does
with his own
flesh

his imagination
must save him
from the wrath
of his
failure, his guilt
his sin.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Take Your Eyes Off Of My Treasured Space

Take your eyes off of my treasured space.
Not an inch of it here is yours to be shared.
You are welcome to visit and admire,
The peace kept within it.

And when your visit is over...
The front door will open.
And through it you will leave.
Hopefully with less curiousity...
As to what your decorating additions will be.

There will be none.
I have all the fun I've had,
Doing what you see myself.
And in the doing of it,
Was one of the best experiences I've had!
Enjoyed with no one else.
It was such a selfish joy!

Take your eyes off of my treasured space.
Not an inch of it here is yours to be shared.
You are welcome to visit and admire,
The peace kept within it.

And when your visit is over...
The front door will open.
And through it you will leave.
With an understood appreciation...
How glad I was to have you visit with me.

But you staying here is out of the question!
Although the time together,
Was enjoyable and well spent.
Give my regards to 'old' Broadway.
And other streets on which we played.
Back in the 'day'.!

There is nothing like a peace of mind,
I can find in any room I choose!
The air is fresh and absent of attitudes.
Sometimes just to sit in silence,
Energizes me with motivation.

Give me a call.
Maybe one day we can do lunch.
And exchange more of our fantasies!
While reminiscing as we munch,
And free from any temptation to aggravate.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Regular John

Who are you girl?
Who are you boy?
Bet I know what your up to
Can I come along?
Your home numbers on the wall
I just had to call...had to
I'm not the only one who will
Run with a knife

Open up your eyes
Open up your room
Open up your arms

Third 16th Sunday
2:16 Sunday night
Where's your daddy now?
I heard he went away
Who are you girl?
Cause i'm so bored with myself
Anyway...anytime...anyplace
I just hang around

Open up your eyes
Open up your room
Open up your arms

Third 16th Sunday
2:16 Sunday night
Open up your eyes
Open up your room
Open up your arms
Open up your door
Open up your eyes
Open up your room
Open up your arms

song performed by by Queens Of The Stone Age from Queens Of The Stone Age
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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