As Though There Is Meaning
oftentimes
to make life as new
we make
beginnings
a fence here
a garden within
a new house
in the middle of
the land
and then the old
storms come
again
there is always
this instinct
for destruction
for which we must
be all
thankful
for soon we shall
begin anew
another fence there
a new garden here
another house to replace
the old broken one
in the middle of
the land
and so there is
nowhere
or no one
someone is always
here
something
makes the tick
in truth
just another
deception
for us to sow the
earth again
as though
there is meaning
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Privacy Of The Home
there is a party
but i am not going
i choose
staying inside the house
not watching tv
but just thinking and
lying low
listening to the silence
of the four walls, and then
i take the exit
outside i go
into the garden at night
under the trees
the scents of some
flowers pervading
and then i take a seat
on a big stone
and feel the hardness
of the earth
i am soft in the middle
of this garden
i like it
this private dwelling
just the trees and the
flowers
in the middle of the night
when everyone is
gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Our House
Father wears his sunday best
Mothers tired she needs a rest
The kids are playing up downstairs
Sisters sighing in her sleep
Brothers got a date to keep
He cant hang around
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
Our house it has a crowd
Theres always something happening
And its usually quite loud
Our mum shes so house-proud
Nothing ever slows her down
And a mess is not allowed
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
Something tells you that youve got to get away from it
Father gets up late for work
Mother has to iron his shirt
Then she sends the kids to school
Sees them off with a small kiss
Shes the one theyre going to miss
In lots of ways
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
I remember way back then when everything was true and when
We would have such a very good time such a fine time
Such a happy time
And I remember how wed play simply waste the day away
Then wed say nothing would come between us two dreamers
Father wears his sunday best
Mothers tired she needs a rest
The kids are playing up downstairs
Sisters sighing in her sleep
Brothers got a date to keep
He cant hang around
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
Our house, was our castle and our keep
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, that was where we used to sleep
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our street
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Comparisons (revised)
you have not seen how
they repaired the broken things
within their fences
you have seen me
how i mend our broken fence
and you say
we are worse than they
you always see the greener fence
beyond ours
i will not disagree with you
but you must understand that
this is all about them and us
and please bear with me
there are no points of comparisons
you have never lived in their house
we are a family and we must
accept with humility what broken things
we have in our house what small love
is left what waste we can still keep.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What Must You Do?
oh, those little things
like the brown grasses of summer,
a flower that blooms in the middle of those rocks
the worm that crawls its way slowly to the humid part
the black bird that stays alone on a branch
the tree that keeps on shedding off its leaves
the dry wind, the post in the middle of the rice field
a banana leaf torn on its sides
a concrete fence surrounding the university
these and those that people do not mind
are mine to write about
we make out our links to all these
we make our own definitions of the self
with what we also mean to them
the black bird staring, the concrete fence of indifference.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Comparisons
you have not seen how
they repaired the broken things
within their fences
you have seen me
how i mend our broken fence
and you say
we are worse than they
you always see the greener fence
beyond ours
i will not disagree with you
but you must understand that
this all about them and us
and please bear with me
there are no points of comparisons
you have never lived in their house.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Wrong House
I went into a house, and it wasn't a house,
It has big steps and a great big hall;
But it hasn't got a garden,
A garden,
A garden,
It isn't like a house at all.
I went into a house, and it wasn't a house,
It has a big garden and great high wall;
But it hasn't got a may-tree,
A may-tree,
A may-tree,
It isn't like a house at all.
I went into a house, and it wasn't a house -
Slow white petals from the may-tree fall;
But it hasn't got a blackbird,
A blackbird,
A blackbird,
It isn't like a house at all.
I went into a house, and I thought it was a house,
I could hear from the may-tree the blackbird call…
But nobody listened to it,
Nobody
Liked it,
Nobody wanted it at all.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Magic
What was the spell she wove for me?
Life was a common useful thing,
An eligible building site
To hold a house to shelter me.
There were no woodlands whispering;
No unimagined dreams at night
About that house had folded wing,
Disordering my life for me.
I was so safe until she came
With starry secrets in her eyes,
And on her lips the word of power.
- Like to the moon of May she came,
That makes men mad who were born wise -
Within her hand the only flower
Man ever plucked from Paradise;
So to my half-built house she came.
She turned my useful plot of land
Into a garden wild and fair,
Where stars in garlands hung like flowers:
A moonlit, lonely, lovely land.
Dim groves and glimmering fountains there
Embraced a secret bower of bowers,
And in its rose-ringed heart we were
Alone in that enchanted land.
What was the spell I wove for her,
Her mad dear magic to undo?
The red rose dies, the white rose dies,
The garden spits me forth with her
On the old suburban road I knew.
My house is gone, and by my side
A stranger stands with angry eyes
And lips that swear I ruined her.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Lost In My Garden
Across the way and around the bend
my world comes to an end.
I do not venture further than that
but there's a garden there I tend.
Beyond the garden there is a fence,
a fence that keeps me here.
I'm not allowed to go anywhere.
I cannot disappear.
For I'm watched and guarded all the time,
never let alone.
But I made up my mind so long ago
that this place is my home.
I have no friends for I've been told
they're all afraid of me.
I must have done something terrible
but it's not in my memory.
Someone brings me out in the sun
and later brings me in.
I see people staring at me
as I lower my head and chin.
What was it I did? I can't recall
and maybe it's better that way.
When I'm in my bed with one bulb on
it's then I always pray.
'Please don't let me remember God.
Please let me stay this way.
For who will take care of my garden
on every sunny day? '
poem by Edwina Reizer
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House Of Jazz
Humdinger
Bell ringer
Got a nasty stinger
To slow you down
Mud slinger
Gold digger
Who point the finger
And do you down
Kickin' and a fightin' on a TV show
Lightin' blindin' in the middle of the road
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Ball stripper
Big tipper
Got a slap 'n' tickler
To make you growl
Spitin' and bitin' on a TV show
Tightenin' frightenin' givin' out a load
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin' in
Come on in
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
The house of jazz
song performed by by AC/DC from Stiff Upper Lip
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Love That You Can Offer To The Broken Woman
you see this broken woman
outside the house outside the fence finally
under the noonday sun
she walks without an umbrella
looking forward to another day
on weary feet
she takes the path that carries her
to her freedom
i wrote a poem last night
and i knew she was able to read it
i did not see whether her hands tremble
but she asked me
if i have this kind of love to offer
to make her live to make her dream
she is free now and in truth
i do not really know what i have
everything i have is in the house
and there is a woman there
who owns the letters of my name
who keeps the key
to the door that is locked
and she says
i am chained there and she brags that i am
the willing victim
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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House Of Jazz
(young - young)
Humdinger
Bell ringer
Got a nasty stinger
To slow you down
Mud slinger
Gold digger
Who point the finger
And do you down
Kickin and a fightin on a tv show
Lightin blindin in the middle of the road
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz, yes
Ball stripper
Big tipper
Got a slap n tickler
To make you growl
A spitin and bitin on a tv show
Tightenin frightenin givin out a load
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin in
Come on in
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
The house of jazz
2000, j. albert & son, pty.
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The House Story
the fence keeps a happy disposition.
it does not need it. The house does.
despite its disagreement with the door,
somehow, i gives a square disposition,
as though, everything here is tolerable,
the house is keeping so many secrets
shying away from the scrutiny of visitors
but it trusts the fence and can sleep
soundly at night, except the light bulb
which is fixed at the back of the kitchen
it keeps on blinking, wanting to tell it all,
but the master switch of the basement is quick
everything is shut off, and then the silence
reigns, it is the queen, it grieves
without a word, it takes in what the house
cannot take anymore, and the fence as the
facade, maintains its happy disposition,
deceiving all that merely pass by.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Neighbor
beyond the bushes
in my garden
in front of the fence
of my house
i hear the sound of
coconut broom sweeping
dry leaves
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Grey
Dull grey the winter drags on,
so slowly
as if never there will be an end to it.
In the mornings it’s biting cold
with black frost that destroys where it falls
and sometimes there are clouds of fog
that tries to blot out places, things and times.
Early in the mornings the dogs howl in melancholy
where they lie on their beds
on the porch under a roof
since they are prohibited from the house,
both cats sneak slowly into the room
not welcome any more in the whole house
and the rascal bird with its red head
and green body
knocks on the big window
as if it’s playing the tick-tock game,
the grass stays dead yellow
and stick onto shoes
and everywhere are treaded in
and most of the flowers in the garden
has already died
and now has only the colour of death,
although I am still faithfully
spraying water onto them
and it is as if I am now also loosing faith,
not knowing anymore if there’s a God
who cares about me, as if other things
constantly keeps Him busy
so that He never shows up for me
while my love relationship sink into nothing,
while I out of heart keep on looking for a job
and another man’s wife
tries to make eyes at me
and I see evil flowering everywhere around me
where I stand in the middle,
between good and evil
and about me the grey land stretches out wide.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I Will Buy You A New Life
Here is the money that I owe you
Yes so you can pay the bills
I will give you more
When I get paid again
I hate those people who love to tell you
Money is the root of all that kills
They have never been poor
They have never had the joy of
a welfare Christmas
(yeah) I know we will never look back (yeah)
You say you wake up crying
Yes and you don't know why
You get up and you go lay down inside
My baby's room
Yeah I guess I'm doing okay
I moved in with the strangest guy
Do you believe he actually
Thinks that I am really alive?
I will buy you a garden
Where your flowers can bloom
I will buy you a new car
Perfect shiny and new
I will buy you that big house
Way up in the west hills
I will buy you a new life
(yes I will)
I know all about that other guy
The handsome with athletic thighs
I know about all the times before
with that obsessive little rich boy
They might make you think you're happy
Yeah maybe for a minute or two
They can't make you laugh
No they can't make you feel
The way that I do
I will buy you a garden
Where your flowers can bloom
I will buy you a new car
Perfect shiny and new
I will buy you that big house
Way up in the west hills
I will buy you a new life
I know we can never look back
Will you please let me stay the night
No one will ever know
I will buy you a garden
Where your flowers can bloom
I will buy you a new car
Perfect shiny and new
I will buy you that big house
Way up in the west hills
I will buy you a new life
I will buy you a new life
song performed by by Everclear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In this house of pain
In this house of pain
We’re nothing but slaves
Giving into such desires
Will it bring us any pleasure?
Weeping for a lover lost
She’ll cast her own spell
Deprived by all
Depleting the life of everyone that has betrayed her
Hidden in the shadows is where she will feel alive
In this house
Is nothing but sinners?
In this house
Is nothing but broken promises?
In this house
Is where you left me for dead?
Walking through the fogged trees
Blind to all
The songs of old
Are here for the comfort of all.
Beneath the garden of secrets
Hides a lonely heart
Calling to her lover
From which she had to part.
I am alone again.
Alone with my thoughts
That I am left to ponder upon
I am alone again.
This sadness is overwhelming
And all I can do is give in
Does my heart still beat the same?
Or does it die along with you
These thoughts seem to keep me sane
Yet I’m still waiting for more
These memories seem to play a game
And in the end
I’m here to give in
In this house
Is nothing but heartache?
In this house
Is nothing but tears?
In this house
Is where you left me broken?
The feelings seem to fade
The laughter was lost long ago
But I would give everything up
Just to have it all back
In this house
Was when I first fell in love with you?
In this house is were I gave my heart to you
In this house was where i was lost to you.
This will be our doing
This will be our destruction
Swept up in such blissful dreams
Scarcely unaware
This is the house
Were we will rot forever?
poem by Teigan Klippel
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Fencing
fence out despair
it does nothing good for the grass on the yard
fence in hope
for they are like finches that feed on the grains
to include the wastes of the kitchen
fence out doubt
they do nothing but crowd the room
like uninvited guests
who always ask for glasses of wine
though you want to close out
but they always persist in drunkenness
fence it love
you know what it can do to your bed
and the linens
and the bathroom
it gives you a sense of beginning
a feeling of eternity
when you have forgotten how to moan
fence out loneliness
you know how it destroys you
and deprives you of much needed sleep
when your eyes sink
like boats in the whirlpools of madness
but at any rate when these fenced out matters
still remain
such as the loneliness that you cannot drive away
or the doubt that still cling like dusts in the furniture
no matter how you dust them away
or the despair that appears like blood stains
in your pastel green carpets
well, why not be with them
and make them feel that they are at home with you
perhaps
they mean no harm
they do nothing
except to make you feel
that you are not alone
that happiness is a freak
that life is like all these
whole in sadness
undefeated in our psychological wars
that after all
they are your sources of strength
the tests of your mettle.
welcome them
after all they have nothing to stay
except in your
house of realities.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Black Rose Flowers
In front of my house I have a little land
Not a wide land, just half meter and six meter widest
I had build it for put or take the flower pot
There is three flower pots
This bought my wife from flower tree salesmen
In the morning, when my wife cleaned away the land from garbage, grass
I told her I want to build the flower garden in my village
My wife angry
You have to arrange this house before build the garden far away from here
I told her, just dreaming
I haven’t money anymore
It just a plan, if I have a lot of money
My wife keep silent
She continue to clean away the land
Clean away the land from grass and garbage
And give her read, yellow, white
blossom
In front of my house
But I never saw
the violet and black colors
If I have the rose black color
of course my wife will be glad
But I never saw
the violet
and black color
and spread their aromatic
Could I smell
Among their thorny
Prasetya Utama, Ciluar, Bogor 07/04/06 13: 10: 01
poem by Prasetya Utama
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The Monument Of All Our Wrongs
i build a house
no one likes it.
the house is empty
i put some chairs.
someone comes and
says, this house is
lonely, it needs
a sound
it is boring and needs
a paint
i put a tree beside
its stairs
i grow another
fence
i put a lone bulb
on a post
and leave the house
for good
that is what the
house is made
there is always
missing
something is
always wrong
this is the house
of regret
it is the monument
of all our wrongs.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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We Build
we build new windows
framed with strong wood and carved
with flowers and birds
we build new doors
we let the vines grown their tendrils again
we watch and we keep on building some more
new floors and ceilings that know how to sing
chairs that are learning how to embrace our hips
we begin to see new clouds
we busy ourselves to make life click and tick and pick up
from where we think we ought to have died
we refuse this call for dissolution
there are meanings coming up
for new beginnings
we build a new house simply because we are uncertain
beyond these broken pillars.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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