Determined Indifference
i like indifference
as a weapon, whether
happy
whatever carrot or stick
policy is used by the enemy
indifference sits on a bench
watches the big waves of the sea
unaffected
the wind wanders
the thousand eyes of the sand
look for a possible hint
on what is up to
they cannot find a thing
except the stare to nowhere
the calmness
amidst the sorrowful
leaves
heaps and heaps
on the ground
of emptiness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Time and Leaves and Heaps
time runs
leaves fall
the ground is filled with heaps and heaps of them
the world too
is thickened by the leaves of time
heaps and heaps of what man once was
we bury all of them
time
leaves
heaps of leaves
so many times
we fall too like leaves
the world is thick of those like us
fair enough.
fair enough.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Tree Is Shedding Off Its Leaves
do not be surprised
to see this tree shedding off leaves
it is the season
for it to become a skeleton
it is like
that
giving off everything
what it gained
from the soil which gives it life
the tree is returning
heaps and heaps of leaves
for the wind
to blow and scatter to the earth
until what is left
is the bareness of it all
the one where we are now
a destiny into
emptiness
the glory of nothing
the splendor of being nothing at all
welcome! welcome!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wealth and weapon
Wealth and weapon
I have not seen
any thing crueller
than silence and indifference
silence is the sharp weapon
cuts the throat of truth
satiates both cowards and sadists
indifference is the wealth
in abundance for enjoyments
for the nerd and dead
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Lone Sand at the beach
Waves come calling, Seagulls call
Heaps of fellow sand pile, washed by waves and together roll.
Two Hippos water they blow, beings are busy and pass
Amidst these, my taste is far, I belong so far.
At night the stars would illuminate the sky
Patterned and beautiful, my mate, I'll see scope in sky.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Indifference
Indifference is a blatant unkindness,
Far worse than anger and hatred.
With indifference you can get away
From victims, their anguish and miseries.
With indifference you can be well safe
From interruptions to your work and joy.
Neighbours are of no consequence
Nor are their lives meaningful.
Anger is creative; it brings changes.
Hatred is creative; it brings effects.
Indifference is not no-intrusion.
Indifference is destructive and inhuman.
06.10.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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And, therefore, indifference is always the friend of the enemy, for it benefits the aggressor -- never its victim, whose pain is magnified when he or she feels forgotten.
Elie Wiesel in The Perils of Indifference
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Silence Shall Be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On A Cemented Bench
on a cemented bench
under the talisay tree
dried leaves in heaps
a red ant bites
your foot on its territory
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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84
my silence shall be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Bickerings Are Over: A Forecast
rocks upon rocks
and mountains upon mountains
of rocks and heaps of sand upon
heaps of sand, red blood
spilling on this soil, and
bodies scattered along
the parths, and too much
writings of hate on the
walls,
the white horse has been
sent and the light from
the great sun has
penetrated every heart
now in the state of grace
each man shall be contented
and silenced.
the weather is fine and there
is food for all on the table.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of beauty is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, but indifference between life and death.
quote by Elie Wiesel
Submitted by Simona Enache
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Deus Ex Machina
she complains about the storm
last night
for the leaves are making heaps
and this morning
she will be sweeping them
the wind comes and sweeps away
all the leaves towards the pit
awed, she says, because she prays.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Fruit Of His Silence And Indifference
what he remembers most was that time
when he asks for a glass of water which was denied him
he was angry at first
hysterical about his thirst his view on death that comes like a black horse from far
but he calmed down ultimately knowing that nothing happens anyway
despite his scream
the wind is still the wind that goes out from the hold of the mountain
not ever minding his situation
the trees are cruel too taking care only of their own roots
and so he grabbed silence
he coiled with the ropes of indifference
and take himself for a rock beside a cliff
and then they look for him
regretting perhaps what they have forgotten such a value for a rose
but then he has no eyes as identifying marks and no matter how
they search
despite his presence
they could not find him
now they are all crazy like the tribes driven out from Babel
and he simply watched them all
in silence and indifference
they murmur and cry out in the darkness of their souls
it is time now he says to reap the fruits of his labor.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The indifference
The indifference makes everything meaningless.
It gives you no joy, nor sorrow.
You take no side, nor disturbed.
Involvement kills the indifference.
21.12.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Merchant
Imagine, mother, that you are to stay at home and I am to travel
into strange lands.
Imagine that my boat is ready at the landing fully laden.
Now think well, mother, before you say what I shall bring for
you when I come back.
Mother, do you want heaps and heaps of gold?
There, by the banks of golden streams, fields are full of
golden harvest.
And in the shade of the forest path the golden champ flower
drop on the ground.
I will gather them all for you in many hundred baskets.
Mother, do you want pearls big as the raindrops of autumn?
I shall cross to the pearl island shore.
There in the early morning light pearls tremble on the meadow
flowers, pearls drop on the grass, and pearls are scattered on the
sand in spray by the wild sea-waves.
My brother shall have a pair of horses with wings to fly among
the clouds.
For father I shall bring a magic pen that, without his
knowing, will write of itself.
For you, mother, I must have the casket and jewel that cost
seven kings their kingdom.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Relativism is not indifference; on the contrary, passionate indifference is necessary in order for you not to hear the voices that oppose your absolute decrees.
quote by Karel Capek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Indifference, then, is not only a sin, it is a punishment.
Elie Wiesel in The Perils of Indifference
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unaffected
there never seems to be, because what i believe, a moment i'm not trying
to show them who i am, why can't they understand the things that
they're denying?
they're denying...
so what should i do, just lay next to you as though i'm unaffected?
and who should i be when they're judging me as though i'm unaffected?
a chance they'd never give to ever want to live the life that i am made of
theres nothing left to prove, my heart's forever true, what is it they're
afraid of?
afraid of....
so what should i do, just lay next to you as though i'm unaffected?
and who should i be when they're judging me as though i'm unaffected?
before they even saw my face they knew that i was not the same
and decided i was not the one for you, for you...
so what should i do? i'm not unaffected
and who should i be? i'm not unaffected
so what should i do, just lay next to you as though i'm unaffected?
and who should i be when they're judging me as though i'm unaffected?
unaffected.......
song performed by by Hoobastank
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fall Of The House Of The Liars....
hidden beneath the layers of soil
and heaps and heaps of dry leaves
after several dry seasons
is the bullfrog,
it is kept there for good because when
it starts to croak
on such a deep, determined and truthful voice
our little world will be turning into
chaos...
perhaps out of respect for such a free creature
we promise to set it free
in due time
when the rain is heavy, when thunders roar,
when the flood comes and takes away everything
around this little place
this narrow river
so that when it croaks the truth about us
the rain and thunder may still conceal
what we fear the most
that shame of the future
this scandal,
this fall.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In A Cold Wind
In a cold wind
in a night wind,
under a yellow street-light,
its paleness and the dark night.
Leaves blown past,
down the wind, cast
onto the silent roadway,
or in heaps, on the footway.
The houses that rise
into grey skies,
windows with drawn curtains,
facing onto pale gardens.
Slow in the sky,
the clouds moving by;
on the ground, the shadows blurred,
the whistling wind heard.
And the wind that blows
comes not, nor goes.
In this night, its sound
wraps all around.
Not here alone,
its long low drone,
along endless fences and hedges,
insidiously edges.
Now is the hour,
now is the closing of the flower,
an end to approaching and retreating,
to losing and defeating,
in a cold wind,
in a night wind,
on a corner of a cold street,
where all directions meet.
poem by Rory Hudson
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