As I Stand On The Side Of The Port Also Waving Goodbye
inside a ship
amidst the roaring sound of
a departure
so many hands are on line
waving
black smoke covers
my eyes
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You Are Going For Good
this meeting will be brief
like twilight we will talk agree on departures of
hands waving in the port the ship blows a big sound
the ears of the shorelines are
deafened
you are going away for
good like twilight
on that ship
all your promising mornings are taken away
take the noontimes then for your survival and evenings too,
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Japanese Fisherman
A young Japanese fisherman was killed
by a cloud at sea.
I heard this song from his friends,
one lurid yellow evening on the Pacific.
Those who eat the fish we caught, die.
Those who touch our hands, die,
This ship is a black coffin,
you'll die if you come up the gangplank.
Those who eat the fish we caught, die,
not straight away, but slowly,
slowly their flesh rots, falls off.
Those who eat the fish we caught, die.
Those who touch our hands, die.
Our loyal, hardworking hands
washed by salt and sun.
Those who touch our hands, die,
not straight away, but slowly,
slowly their flesh rots, falls off.
Those who touch our hands, die.
Almond Eyes, forget me.
This ship is a black coffin,
you'll die if you come up the gangplank.
The cloud has passed over us.
Almond Eyes, forget me.
Don't hug me my darling,
you'll catch death from me.
Almond Eyes, forget me.
This ship is a black coffin.
Almond Eyes, forget me.
The child you have from me
will be rotten from a rotten egg.
This ship is a black coffin.
This sea is a dead sea.
Human beings, where are you?
Where are you?
poem by Nazim Hikmet
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Another Chapter Of Suspense And Happiness
when you are gone
you are gone for good
you are gone and i do nothing about it
because when you are gone you are simply gone and i do nothing
to make it more sophisticated or
complicate such a very simple matter as a departure
it takes only a second when the jet plane takes off
and all its sound is gone
its trace of smoke in the sky simply dissolves in that blue canvass
soon it is empty and soon blackbirds dot its hues of white and blue
what is there to make about those hands that forget about waving?
those eyes that look so happy watching the fields flashing away from the window of the bus?
or an array of thin sheets of clouds from the window of the plane?
where you are gone
you are gone and that is precisely
for the best in us
you go your way and i stay and soon too i must go my own odd way too
finding another one who shall not speak and act like you
(so i can easily forget)
when you are gone
i shall still be good, pursuing once again this search for
another chapter of suspense and happiness
in my own little book of incoming days.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sonnet – Amidst
Amidst pitch -black darkness, God shows a light;
Amidst a Forest thick, He shows a way;
Amidst black clouds, He brings a moonlit night;
Amidst sorrows, God gives a happy day.
Amidst the desert, Oasis God shows;
Amidst the stormy Sea, He brings calm;
Amidst much strife, He opens newer doors;
Amidst much hopelessness, a helping palm.
Amidst tempest, God shows a bright light-house;
Amidst the glaciers, much sought-after peak;
Amidst our solitude, He gives a spouse;
Amidst the ravines deep, the lost lamb meek.
Amidst the chaos, God ushers new hope,
Amidst the gloom, He gives the church a Pope.
poem by John Celes
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Big Black Smoke
She was sick and tired of country life.
A little country home,
A little country folk,
Made her blood run cold.
Now her mother pines her heart away,
Looking for her child in the big black smoke,
In the big black smoke.
Frailest, purest girl the world has seen,
According to her ma, according to her pa,
And everybody said,
That she knew no sin and did no wrong,
Till she walked the streets of the big black smoke,
Of the big black smoke.
Well, she slept in caffs and coffee bars and bowling alleys,
And every penny she had
Was spent on purple hearts and cigarettes.
She took all her pretty coloured clothes,
And ran away from home
And the boy next door,
For a boy named joe.
And he took her money for the rent
And tried to drag her down in the big black smoke,
In the big black smoke.
In the big black smoke.
In the big black smoke.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White Skin Black Heart
Yeah, whatcha gonna do now, now that you started?
Whatcha gonna do now, now that its done?
The words got out there, they float around and are coming right back down.
You gonna leave us lying here
Dealing with the consequences of a bad sound
Of a bad sound.
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
Whatcha gonna do now, that its spoken?
These words of a habit, have not faded away.
.................... it clear, conscious gets opened like a wound.
If you cant concieve a better line and better times,
Then let silence bury you, in the end.
When you feel it, when you feel it
Youre condemned.
You see, youve lost your strangle on the freedom road! you
Think ........................of something a long time ago! you
[spewed it out you were so] insecure! it was like ............. on
The toilet floor! youre a [nine seat] drunk, ............... and
You say you want something, .......... you heard the rednecks
Roaring for blood and then they wanted more! life was so small, you
Couldnt get enough. you made a start.
White skin black heart
Dripping,
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
Drag your eyes from [aurora] black heart!
White skin black heart
Drag your leg, get outta here [my sight]!
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
You didnt have to start
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The Smoke Comes Out
when the smoke comes out
they are there to say that there is fire
on the chimney
when the smoke is black
they all say i have decided
when the smoke is white
they keep on praying since
no one is chosen
to lead the lost flock
without their grazing ground
during winter time
what if the smoke comes out
from my eyes and the smoke is black
and there is no fire in my heart?
what if i am lost? shall you care?
please don't. I must tell you i am happier
when left alone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dr Livingstone
Steam ship, sail down the river
Fight the mosquitoes that fly in a swarm
White smoke covers the jungle
See Dr. Livingston land with a thunk
Down where the sad willows gather
Young women weep for their dying babies
I am a white man in Africa
If I were to stay here
There'd be no one to save me
I hear the drums
I know it's urgent
I hear survival in his hands
Switch to record
I get the picture
But I will never understand
Mad world, invisible army
Blow up the bridges and come like a storm
Young girl, eyes full of promise
Carry the baby and keeping it warm
Down where the sad willows gather
Young men go down on their knees
I am a white man in Africa
With more than just my god to appease
I hear the drums
I know it's urgent
I hear survival in his hands
Switch to record
I get the picture
But I will never understand
How there is love in his face
'Midst of all this waste
In the Mozambique sun
Under the gun
I hear the drums
I hear survival in his hands
I hear the drums
There is a curse upon this land
I hear the drums
I know it's urgent
I hear survival in his hands
Hit record
Get the picture
I will never understand
Carry the sound and the fury
Left all alone in a war zone
Carry the sound and the fury
Hours later
Thoughts of my bed
Leave me tired and ready for sleep
So tell me about all the places you go
All the lives that you swallow, the people you keep
Deep in a monastery
That's where I want to be
Wrestle my soul
song performed by by Crowded House
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slave Trade
I can remember Years Ago
when i was a teenager, i
wish i listen to her, She
must have river no her eyes
now.Will i ever set my eyes
on her again? now am In chain
inside the ship to unknown
destination.Right inside the
ship i meet my fellow blacks,
we are stripped naked with
nowhere to run to and we
dare not.on our body we
have the map of the world
made from the stroke of
cane.Some of my brother
that could not make it were
throw into the ocean for the
fishes to feed on.Our prayer
was let God sent a moses to
deliver us.Here we are in the
strange land as we are been
brought as commodite, we
work day and night without
resting, who are we to compalin
some die in the field with tears
in our eye we bury our brethen.
Africa i miss your sunshine your
crops.We are free but can't go
back, not knowing the part of
Africa am from.But no matter
were i am, no matter what they
call me because of my skin
colour am proud to be a black
and i will stay black, Cos black
is beatifull.
poem by Enyinwa Okechukwu Enyinwa
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The Winter Of The Sun
Glacial sighs mantled the breaking light
in a soft dislmning abrasion
Like whispers lifted from the frost
that sheathed the slumbering sun
behind the solace of our sequence
and tedium of our shenanigans,
but the austere silence it brought
had drifted with a lack of euphony
and calm for macabre had conquered
the prying eyes and mangled with
the atrocious affliction brought
by the premature winter of the sun
The ice sheets that I meander started
to shatter and thaw, but the kingly fire ball
remained suspended on his veracious
gesture of absence, his superfluous fingers
pointed with a jeopardy through
the unlocked and opened barricades
where the black embers futilely honed
its red eyes like devils lurking inside
the curtains, and the veil was ripped
to divulge what weeps soundlessly
behind the tatterdemalion tapestry
There was nothing but a lifeless smoke
climbing the svelte ladders of time,
Smoke that seethes with anguish and
wrecks and lusts for the shallow heaven
that the cinders spat and denied;
Smoke from incinerated hands -
hands that wrought words feigning valor,
hands that rocked its own trembling cradle,
hands that grew iron from caliginosity,
hands that are empty and flimsy
where everything sifted like a formless wind
indifferently passing through the windmills,
hands that can only quell the warmth
of the sun when it tries to break from
the winter inside its eternal frame.
poem by Norman Santos
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Evil Sound
This room has an evil sound inside
It comes from the most smiling memories
That strangles you inside out with bloody hands
Throws your bowels in the black river
with a cursed kiss from certain lips
This room has an evil ghost inside
Dances naked to this evil sound
The wind blows through the broken windows
While the curtains dance with her
This nightmare let only pure love in
poem by Kristoffer Vilsgaard Pedersen
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A Little Learning As Time Goes By...
someday you will realize
there is no use of a name
influences fade like rust eating you inside your bones
there are parasites
residing inside your skin
someday you will know
how they survived all these
and then you begin to hate them
then yourself
there is this interlude of despair
the regret of having been born
between us the sea
the sound of the waves
monotonous all day
amidst us is this silence
of the shells
the smooth flow of the sand
that starts
comforting our chaos
deep within our
ears
someday you will learn to blend
with whatever color
and you will no longer search
what you are
and where you are
you are simply here and there
without a fixed point
you are boat designed with no anchor
fearing no ports
neither measureless oceans
someday you realize
that the only reason why we are here is that
we are moving
this departure that knows so well
where hello begins...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Black Day In July
Black day in july
Motor city madness has touched the countryside
And through the smoke and cinders
You can hear it far and wide
The doors are quickly bolted
And the children locked inside
Black day in july
Black day in july
And the soul of motor city is bared across the land
As the book of law and order is taken in the hands
Of the sons of the fathers who were carried to this land
Black day in july
Black day in july
In the streets of motor city is a deadly silent sound
And the body of a dead youth lies stretched upon the ground
Upon the filthy pavement
No reason can be found
Black day in july
Black day in july
Motor city madness has touched the countryside
And the people rise in anger
And the streets begin to fill
And theres gunfire from the rooftops
And the blood begins to spill
Black day in july
In the mansion of the governor
Theres nothing that is known for sure
The telephone is ringing
And the pendulum is swinging
And they wonder how it happened
And they really know the reason
And it wasnt just the temperature
And it wasnt just the season
Black day in july
Black day in july
Motor citys burning and the flames are running wild
They reflect upon the waters of the river and the lake
And everyone is listening
And everyones awake
Black day in july
Black day in july
The printing press is turning
And the news is quickly flashed
And you read your morning paper
And you sip your cup of tea
And you wonder just in passing
Is it him or is it me
Black day in july
In the office of the president
The deed is done the troops are sent
Theres really not much choice you see
It looks to us like anarchy
And then the tanks go rolling in
To patch things up as best they can
There is no time to hesitate
The speech is made the dues can wait
Black day in july
Black day in july
The streets of motor city now are quiet and serene
But the shapes of gutted buildings
Strike terror to the heart
And you say how did it happen
And you say how did it start
Why cant we all be brothers
Why cant we live in peace
But the hands of the have-nots
Keep falling out of reach
Black day in july
Black day in july
Motor city madness has touched the countryside
And through the smoke and cinders
You can hear it far and wide
The doors are quickly bolted
And the children locked inside
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mountain View
after the night of love
i sit on the bamboo stair
facing the wide expanse of
mountains before me
beyond the horizon of fog
and smoke from the tiny
houses five hills away
and down the plains the
winding river taking the
usual routes of least resistance
i have seen wild carabaos grazing
white horses running with the
winds and the black birds
flying high seeking their prey
of chicks unprotected by hens.
i am amazed by this macrocosm.
How can some be so greedy amidst
these bounty? Can his hands hold
all the mountains? Can his mouth
drink all the rivers? Can he catch
all the black birds and put them
inside his cage? I know he can't but
i know he will. And that is the reason
why we are here hiding in the bellies
of these big mountains, siding with the
shades of the trees, taking inspiration
from all the stars, the moon and the
boundless sea.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hand That Helps
Hand in hand you clap
Encourage others and solder you tap
Hand alone can be used for slap
In backward direction you step
Hand that build nation
Hand that develops relation
Hand that pulls the cart
And finally hands make you smart
Hand covers your eyes
Yet people look at and try
Hands that comes to rescue
Allow few people to view
Surge ahead with waving hand
Make all to follow and make friends
See to it that you are constant with trend
See the joy in life at the end
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Concealing That Nocturnal Existence....
you realize that there is nothing that you keep
or can
at night a stranger of the house talks about
a departure
you listen as he is putting music to his flute
it is a sad one
it is like the sonorous sound of the rain at night
it is windy
the departure shall be early before the sun comes up
you never sleep
anticipating the excitement of the departure
there are only two of you
before the sun comes up between the two hills
both of you have already dissolve in the distance
blend with the trees, walk on grasses,
there are no traces, the two of you never exist
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Outside331’sSleep
Don’t open your eyes yet not until I explain last night I went to bed with Sleep last night I fell for Sleep last night Sleep unclothed me left me naked in a room painted black I couldn’t see Sleep because Sleep was dark too and the room was black and the foreground blended in with the background I couldn’t tell what was far and what was close I became frustrated because Sleep was either hiding inside the room or the room was hiding behind Sleep neither were being fair to my eyes who wanted to play hide and go Sleep I hide inside the room and Sleep seeks I said where are you Sleep I can’t see you my eyes can’t find you Sleep I said I wanted to fall inside you brought me into this black room and I am trying to wrap myself around you won’t you come inside of me you won’t stage scenes in my eyes created with color everything is black one long stretch Sleep are you moving and I can’t see you or are you standing still and I can’t feel you are here Sleep you are silent Sleep I feel alone Sleep I want you to be inside me if you take me to a black room and make me go to bed are your eyes open I can’t see you did you leave is Sleep here Sleep am I inside you explain Sleep explain did you open your eyes Sleep are my eyes open Sleep are you outside me Sleep you took me to bed and left me Sleep I can’t open my eyes until you are back inside me I can’t see Sleep when you’re not inside me open your eyes Sleep do you see me inside you explain last night am I still inside Sleep?
(12-13-07)
poem by Chelsea Trescott
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Helping Hands
these hands
these so sore helping hands
and these eyes
seeing through all the black and white,
a monovision more incommon than not,
these hands like talons ripping as fast they can
fish
trapped inside
the barrel
as he cocks his wrist,
that tiny gap of silent air
and in an instant these fish know they're goners,
full of holes
that what this life of mine has been like...
a great tapestry to the biggest moths
and the kindest spiders
as well as the coldest eyes
and the softest hands
however these hands,
rough and dry
witnessed it all first hand
and then the other.
poem by David Thomas
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Self Portrait
I can see this world in a different way- from this world I hid for many years.
Riding a ship towards some other galaxy,
Though only inside of my mind-
The rain would pour down upon the real world, and
In the mid winter the snow would fall, but
Lost in some other place in time, I only saw the sun.
I was a rare bird whose wings would carry me
High above the treetops, the mountains and
Even above the highest clouds,
Traveling far away from everybody and everything that was real.
Rain, sleet and hail would fall, though all I could see was a rainbow,
Glistening within the sky, high above the mountains-
I placed no trust in the people who walked upon the ground below,
Although it hardly mattered- I could always converse with those people
Who lived within the kingdom inside of my mind.
I would board a ship, its full sails to the wind,
Carrying me towards the world of my dreams-
Today I see the world in a different way-Now I see reality,
I see reality- hunger, war and people who threaten, and
All I can do is place my hands over my eyes, hoping to shut this cruel world out.
The ship I rode to some other place has been lost somewhere in the sky and
A rare bird, whose wings are now broken, I now see the world under a different light.
Somebody took me and locked me away last night and I have become
A prisoner inside of my own mind-upon that ship with fallen sails
I feel as if I am on a pathway headed towards nowhere-
I place my hands over my eyes. Attempting to hide from all that is real,
Unable to find peace of mind, unable to find my rainbow.
I find myself alone inside of an empty room, with no windows and a door that is locked-
I converse with the voices that speak to me inside of my mind-as
These, nobody can take them away from me and
They are all that is left of my dreams…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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When The Ship Comes In
Oh the time will come up
When the winds will stop
And the breeze will cease to be breathin
Like the stillness in the wind
fore the hurricane begins
The hour when the ship comes in
Oh the seas will split
And the ship will hit
And the sands on the shoreline will be shaking
Then the tide will sound
And the wind will pound
And the morning will be breaking
Oh the fishes will laugh
As they swim out of the path
And the seagulls theyll be smiling
And the rocks on the sand
Will proudly stand
The hour that the ship comes in
And the words that are used
For to get the ship confused
Will not be understood as theyre spoken
For the chains of the sea
Will have busted in the night
And will be buried at the bottom of the ocean
A song will lift
As the mainsail shifts
And the boat that drifts on to the shore line
And the sun will respect
Every face on the deck
The hour that the ship comes in
Then the sands will roll
Out a carpet of gold
For your weary toes to be a touchin
And the ships wise men
Will remind you once again
That the whole wide world is watchin
Oh the foes will rise
With the sleep still in their eyes
And theyll jerk from their beds and think theyre still dreamin
But theyll pinch themselves and squeel
And know that its for real
The hour that the ship comes in
Then theyll raise their hands
Sayin well meet all your demands
But well shout from the bow your days are numbered
And like pharaohs tribe
Theyll be drownded in the tide
And like goliath theyll be conquered
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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