Cut & Paste
you surf tonight
you see a bungalow beside a lake
abandoned
you do not like what is happening there
the birds are mute
and the ants cannot climb the
star apple tree
so to change at least some things
you cut
the bungalow and place it beside
a rail way where a train moves
to another new destination
you want motion and
a song
you cut some notes from a music website
and put them
inside the throat of the mute bird
and so it begins
to sing
for all the lonely ants in there
and they too, begin to dance and build
their little kingdom
the bungalow appears like a some pieces
of assembled wood
dead
you paste some smoke from a busy chimney
you put some live fishes on the lake
and you look at what you have done
you smile
you are putting life to everything
and finally
you copy a picture of yourself, you cut
and then
paste it there
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Bungalow
Bungalow
Bungalow
By the sea
Bungalow
In the sea air
Climbing rose
Time to spare
Luxury accommodation traps the sun
So were working every hour that God made
So we can fly away
Saving it all up for you
Bungalow
Bungalow
Silver shore line
In the gorse
You can be mine
Standing prime position for the town
Working for this vision through our lives
So we can fly away
Saving it all up for you
Bungalow
Bungalow
You wait and see
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Continuing Story Of Bungalow Bill
Hey, bungalow bill
What did you kill
Bungalow bill?
He went out tiger hunting with his elephant and gun
In case of accidents he always took his mom
He's the all american bullet-headed saxon mother's son.
All the children sing
Hey bungalow bill
What did you kill
Bungalow bill?
Deep in the jungle where the mighty tiger lies
Bill and his elephants were taken by surprise
So captain marvel zapped in right between the eyes
All the children sing
Hey, bungalow bill
What did you kill
Bungalow bill?
The children asked him if to kill was not a sin
Not when he looked so fierce, his mother butted in
If looks could kill it would have been us instead of him
All the children sing
Hey, bungalow bill
What did you kill
Bungalow bill?
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Of Ants and Life
…guess me correct
of ants and life they connect
causing a traffic jam on their trails I cannot forget
of ants as they swam from tree barks to get
a source of existence cannot let
the ants in drought to starve
for food is what they have once collected
and stored;
that which none has never rejected
nor objected
of ants and life
the futuristic species
that know when to pick up the pieces
of anything,
and the guard ants making sure nothing misses
from whence it were piled and stored
of ants and life ‘am never bored
as I observed how they nod
in respect and honor on board
as they pass each other a hustle they accord
of ants and life as they seek to conform
to a life in all its form
if ants can manage their own
why can’t we not of our own?
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Don't build the bungalow on an inch of ground.
Flower Girl And The Bargain
Her dreamt-bungalow
Is her caravan
Loaded with a tiny thousand count
Just stringing routine
On to her phonetical 'lee pooyee'
(Malli poo, Jasmine) ...
She decks up fragrant
Crowned herself the queen
With her little three princesses
Of her dream-bungalow
I bargain up to her resentment
Against the hiked price
Hers is ten rupees, mine is five
Per hundred counts two
Or three rupees only townside
Grumbling her tone shrieks
On her vain profit unfit her dream
My final compromise anyway
Five rupees...
And home-grown mangoes some
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Sad Poem
Five locked doors inside a demolished bungalow
Deaf mute on the stage with low-pitched sopranos
A Christmas card falling off from a 5- storey building
A fussy pussycat left with no choice
Broken glasses on my neighbor’s deathbed
Spanish guitar with lonely dead strings
The girl who wore black on her prom
A computer keyboard with missing keys
The violinist running away without a violin
The icing never hit the birthday cake before his interment
Withered petals in November
Lyrics about dreams that never were
The smiling child as the mother wept
Disconnection notice after the black-out
poem by Pete Zaesar Galula
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Aspiration
Aspiration.
Aah divvent like the winter neets
because wor netty’s doon the yard
It’s caad and damp and has ne leets
and varry often frozen hard.
Aah’d rather use the chamber pot
that hides beneath the double bed.
Aah sometimes wish that aah had got
a warm dry inside loo instead.
Me sister hes a bungalow
that has a bathroom and a loo.
Noo she is rather posh you know
and looks doon on the likes of me.
She married weel, hor man was rich
an left hor weel provided for
Hor life hes gone without a hitch
She had ne bairns but I hed four.
But varry soon aah’ll qualify
and get an aad folks bungalow.
A modern hoose that’s warm and dry
The aah’ll be good as her you know.
The airs and graces she displays
impress hor neighbours but not me.
Cos aah recall wor childhood days
which she forgets conveniently.
Me sister is a proper snob
but she’s the only one aah’ve got.
Aah only wish she haad her gob
not taak a lot o tommy rot..
24-Dec-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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a Thought....
There is a lady by the lake
She plays the Piano
At night sadly
The moon listens and remembers
Just like any abandoned lover
A song
Learned by the Heart
and Until
Now is never forgotten
The notes from the Piano
Swim in the Lake like some fishes
Wishing to be stars....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Warrior Red-Ants
I crushed some warrior-ants to death,
And wondered what, others would do;
And very promptly, came more ants
To investigate scene of crime!
These ants build nests upon the trees,
By gluing leaves with strange substance;
Their nests look like army barracks,
With sentry-ants guarding smartly!
The dead ants lay all strewn about;
A few of them were moving still;
And very soon, they too lay dead,
Like soldiers killed in battle-field!
The scout ants went from ant to ant,
Perhaps in search of ones alive;
Some went back fast to convey news
About the tragedy they saw!
And very soon, arrived more ants
To check if dead were truly dead;
Somehow, these ants smelt death itself;
They did it so effortlessly!
Each one of them lifted the dead,
By proboscis and sped back home;
Each ant with carcass upon mouth,
Ran back as fast as legs carried.
And in a trice, the dead were cleared;
The scene of crime was clean by now;
The work was finished in moments;
Yes, ants are truly busiest!
Oh, what respect ants show their dead!
How fast they rescue comrades hurt!
They proved they respected their dead;
Do human beings do like-wise?
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-15-2008
poem by John Celes
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The bungalow had more to do with how Americans live today than any other building that has gone remotely by the name of architecture in our history.
quote by Russell Lynes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Copy & Paste
Of course it was copy and paste like honey and lemon drop.
A gleam of humor coming from skies to my beloved eden.
Assure that stich coming from a different heaven.
Of course it is not copy nor paste like lime and linden tea.
poem by Tansel Bozkurt
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inside Facebook
i am a song there
ready to be sung
you can sing me
if you want
i am my own lyrics
the notes are
taken from the
mouth of the bird
that sings only
at night
i am a song there
hanging upon a tree
like a very ripe fruit
you can pick me
and taste me
and then tell me
if i am selfish
for i am not
i am an offering
and you must not refuse
i am a song there
sing me and then
i will listen
and then i will know
who i am
where i am going
what i will become
it is your hum
your singing me
that can make me alive
your mouth can make
me a new bird
singing another song
for this world
tonight
look, the stars are listening
the moon is ready
for this dance of love
tonight
i am a song there
sing me now
give me life
touch me so tenderly
like a woman.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Lonely Woman And The Sea
tonight the lonely woman sits beside the sea again
her feet are too small and her hands too gentle
she speaks about what is missing and she recalls what she cannot find
she likes the song of the empty shells
the hermit crabs are too clumsy for her
her hair falls on the rocks and she begins to shed some tears
the sea keeps on waving, signalling as though sending the message
' please don't i have so much salt inside my belly'
but the lonely woman keeps on crying and she cannot be stopped
the sea is mute and the lonely woman is deaf
the tree says they make a good pair and someone says further
they can, who knows, without a hitch, live happily ever after
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I'm Not Jealous!
It is not that I’m jealous…
HONESTLY I’m not!
It’s just that, when you are
away from me,
I remember how you look in
your jeans and FCUK sweater
(you are really HOT you know)
and I imagine how certain PEOPLE
would look at you -
and make doe-like EYES at you
(you know how these people can be)
and from nowhere there will be ANTS
millions of ants crawling up the back
of my legs, up my spine and into my
brain…. being busy all over
messing up my headspace and
turning everything GREEN
not “serene pastures” green
not “an apple-a-day keeps the doctor away” green
but GREEN as in a dragon’s tail
before it turns fiery and red
and then all the ants explode in my head….
It is not that I’m jealous…
I PROMISE I’m not,
but ladies beware, because you’ll wish that you were
DEAD!
poem by Yuri Duraan
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Crazy Antics For Harriet Bishop
I watched an ant and wondered why.
He was convinced he had to try
to climb a grass stem to the top
and down the other side none stop.
Why did he feel he had to climb?
It was a complete waste of time.
But Ants do what they want to do
I know because I’ve watched a few.
I don’t think ants are very bright,
they very seldom get it right.
Though I can’t think the way ants do.
He might have had good reason to
climb to the top and down again.
Or just may be he was insane.
10-Sep-08
http: // blpg.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Take Off That Load For A While
I see,
Your problem is heavy
I can feel its load
And I too cannot carry it,
But if you are kind to yourself
Like a friend
Why not take that load off
A while
And take your rest
Breathe deeply as you take
A walk around
This peaceful lake
Try meeting the
Colored fishes
In the transparencies
Of its waters
Touch a tree
Feel the strength
Of brown barks
Climb if you want
And see some
Nests with eggs
Hear the songs
Of birds on this
Hilltop and then
Walk again around
This lake
Let us see if the
Load is really
That heavy
Afterwards
You may come
Back tonight
And see the
Full moon
Sailing on
The placid water
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Morning
Look, my love, on the wall, and here, at this Eastern picture.
How still its scene, and neither of sleep nor waking:
No shadow falls from the tree or the golden mountain,
The boats on the glassy lake have no reflection,
No echo would come if you blew a horn in those valleys.
And look away, and move. Or speak, or sing:
And voices of the past murmur among your words,
Under your glance my dead selves quicken and stir,
And a thousand shadows attend where you go.
That is your movement. There is a golden stillnes,
Soundless and fathomless, and far beyond it;
When brow on brow, or mouth to mouth assembled,
We lie in the calm of morning. And there, outside us,
The sun moves on, the boat jogs on the lake,
The huntsman calls.
And we lie here, our orient peace awakening,
No echo, and no shadow, and no reflection.
poem by Henry Reed
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A Cut Above The Rest
My great-grandfather was a soldier
and Rebecca was his loving wife.
They were wed in what was then India
and she was accustomed to army life.
They lived in an Indian army bungalow
on the outskirts of the city of Lahore.
Whilst the Major was away on duty
a guard kept their home secure.
One evening as the sun was setting
an open window let in the breeze.
The manservant lit the oil lamps
then retired to the bungalow’s eaves.
As Rebecca sat quietly reading
the sound of a thud came from outside.
From the wall she took her father’s sword
and stood behind the curtain as if to hide.
With the sword raised high and ready
she was in a position to take a swing.
Nervously she stood there waiting
for whatever the night would bring.
From behind the closed curtains
a hand and then an arm poked through
and then with a swipe of the sword
she severed the wrist in two.
A loud scream of pain followed,
as the man left his severed limb behind.
When Rebecca later told the story
she said the burglar left more than he could find.
poem by Orlando Belo
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You can fly
You are butter fly
So you can fly
We are human being
We only keep on trying
You have sense to find out honey
We are hungry but only after money
You store for future and bees
We not only take fruits but steal complete tree
See the ants
What do they want?
What do we need?
More and more as greed
See the river water
They flow and cater
All needs and provide
Unite all but never divide
Birds sing in time
We praise sometimes
If that serves the purpose
We keep silence and only suppose
We take no clue
Neglect and refuse to view
We are adamant and irresponsible
Want everything but without struggle
Ants store for future use
We waste it and vehemently refuse
Cut the wood and barren the forest
How can anything then be called best?
Let us not cry later
Still we can make it better
We should miss nothing in anticipation
Let us build future with active participation
* Childish attempt *
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Arabic Nights
you are the arabesque
into my arabic nights.
you dance and i open my eyes
trying to see where does love reside
in your belly? no, it is not there.
it could be inside you.
but you are closed as a door
of the palace where aladin lives
i am looking for love.
dance, dance for me.
it is dark here and you are the light.
the moon.
i am a snake. i need the apple.
let me bite you.
take me inside you.
you are my paradise.
you are my tree.
i have the apple inside my throat.
do not die yet.
i am still alive.
please. please.
please me i am not dead yet.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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