Exhaustion
it is now 9 o'clock in the evening
and here i am driving this maroon car
back home alone
on a three-hour lecture one gets
exhausted somehow
i feel the bones clinging
each to each like being held by
some pieces of strings
some may fall away but i held
up to some hope of a cartilage
and muscle and skin
for a wrapping
it is raining hard again
and the night is as dark as ever
the street lamps are off
another blackout happens
as often as this place is
poverty stricken and infested
with political leaders with
nothing in mind but how
to amass more wealth
for themselves and
their kin and relatives
i have always been a teacher
and perhaps will always be
a thinker forever
trying to figure things
how this country may have
a stable name
a stronger sense of
a confident self
plain thoughts,
political theories and some
speculations for economic
possibilities
some questions roaming
and still without any hint
of an answer
i talk to myself again
this country will always be poor
because its leaders are making it so
these people will always be duped
because they remain gullible
this country has nowhere to go
like the boat of the El Filibusterismo
it will simply rotate and collide
with the whirpools of its nighmares
arriving at the ports of nothing
the rain stopped and i am now
at the red gate of an old house
the bushes wantonly growing
stretching their brances
to a dark sky
the gate opens and profuse
light comes out from an
opening
a brown dog comes out
and barks announcing the
arrival of a very tired master
it is I, this political professor
coming out from a worn-out car
and this is my house
infested with worms slowly eating
every part every wood
this house needs another year
for it to finally fall
my wife comes out from
her room and kisses me
and she asks ' how about dinner? '
' i am not hungry, all i need is sleep' i said
with my shoes on
i lay in bed. My eyes close. I like to dream
about God.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Unseeing Eyes
Why can't men with eyes see, the future ahead for you and me?
This country's near future at hand, within an ever darkening land,
In a land that avoids all light, supporting evil and wrong as right,
Being swayed by leaders who lie, a given fact, you cannot deny.
Is this why many souls today, are being led down a darker way?
Being led by the spiritually blind, while leaving all morals behind,
Blindly being taken down a path, that leads to judgment's wrath,
As they continue ignoring signs, following dark political designs.
Forgetting God, over this land, leaders now take a darker stand,
Defying The God, over this nation, ignoring His Holy Revelation,
Following ways of an amoral few, forgetting all most of us knew,
As they defy God ruling above, going to what they know little of.
Those following with unseeing eyes, will only see a total demise,
Of political plans and fabrication; hope and change, for a nation,
As with change darkness abounds, while hopelessness resounds,
While only darkness is wrought, by hope and change they sought.
Their eyes can see nothing friend, about Truth and upcoming end,
Of darkened leaders political bent, and Gods' righteous judgment,
But friend every eye shall see, the coming of The Lord of Eternity,
Ending all of those political lies, while all leaders see their demise.
(Copyright ©07/2012)
Staring At The Ceiling
it was when i was about
to squirt
a useful, clinging idea
between my head
and ceiling
when the lights went out
it is a blackout again
in this ruined country
i go up the house
lay on a bamboo bed
and rest my hands on
my head
opening my eyes
i stare on the ceiling
for more questions on
my mind
this existential questions
like lizards
waiting for mosquitoes
lost
ready for the eating
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A House In The Country
He don't need no sedatives to ease his troubled mind.
At work he is invariably unpleasant and unkind.
Why should he care if he is hated in his home,
'Cause he's gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
He's gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
But he ain't gotta home, oh no,
And he's as wicked as he can be,
'Cause he's gotta house in the country
Where he likes to spend his weekend days.
Oh yeah, oh yeah, well all right
Well, he got his job when drunken Daddy tumbled down the stairs.
From that very day this boy is more than having his share.
One of these days I'm gonna knock him off of his throne,
'Cause he's gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
He's gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
And he's oh so smug, oh yeah.
He's got everything he needs,
'Cause he's gotta house in the country
Where he likes to spend his weekend days.
Oh yeah, oh yeah, well all right
And he's oh so smug, oh yeah.
He's got everything he needs,
'Cause he's gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
He's gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
But he's socially dead, oh yeah,
And it don't matter much to him,
'Cause he's gotta house in the country
Where he likes to spend his weekend days.
Oh yeah, oh yeah, well all right
House in the country
House in the country
House in the country
House in the country
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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House In The Country
He dont need no sedatives to ease his troubled mind.
At work he is invariably unpleasant and unkind.
Why should he care if he is hated in his home,
cause hes gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
Hes gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
But he aint gotta home, oh no,
And hes as wicked as he can be,
cause hes gotta house in the country
Where he likes to spend his weekend days.
Oh yeah, oh yeah, well all right
Well, he got his job when drunken daddy tumbled down the stairs.
From that very day this boy is more than having his share.
One of these days Im gonna knock him off of his throne,
cause hes gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
Hes gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
And hes oh so smug, oh yeah.
Hes got everything he needs,
cause hes gotta house in the country
Where he likes to spend his weekend days.
Oh yeah, oh yeah, well all right
And hes oh so smug, oh yeah.
Hes got everything he needs,
cause hes gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
Hes gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
But hes socially dead, oh yeah,
And it dont matter much to him,
cause hes gotta house in the country
Where he likes to spend his weekend days.
Oh yeah, oh yeah, well all right
House in the country
House in the country
House in the country
House in the country
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Country's Leaders
Our country’s leaders are but feeders on our contributions,
Though they care nothing about our problem’s solutions.
Their aim is just a useless game of their own creation,
Instead of a sincere attempt to maintain the health of our nation.
Even worse, this meaningless chicanery they love to employ
Is at the expense of the masses they’re sure to destroy.
Our country’s leaders are nothing more than puppets of the rich,
Without whose direction they would never be able to switch.
Vain and inept leaders continue to ignore the majority voice
In favor of their individual egos and political party choice.
So sadly each day the common man has less representation
And one day will strike back at his leaders in hopeless frustration.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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While Driving My Car Late Evening From School
while driving my car late evening
from school
when the rains fall heavily
on the streets
looking like deserted
i talk to myself
unceasingly
like we are very close friends
and now for the first
time in 20 years meet
for this historic reunion
i greet myself with such a warm
hello ric
this is ric meet ric
how you have not changed for years
you still look wonderful tonight
and how are things doing with you?
i am fine and doing well
and i am at home with myself
progressing in my career
and happy with what
i have and what i am
looking forward
to more excitements
of my life
like you do too
with your life
ric to ric
the talk goes on and on
and then the rain stops
and then i finally arrive
and honk my car
to this house
where the gate opens
all too quickly
with anticipation
like this joy
of an emotion
the lights are all on
brightly they shine
on the glass
of the car
i am home
at last
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My House of Human Skin
Look at me now, no uncouth wife
No mocking kids, no drab sex life
It all seems so immaterial in
My House of Human Skin
The waves of doubt that lapped my shores
Were quashed among the slavish whores
That visited my halls within
My House of Human Skin
I now have cold philosophy
That always comes easy to me
My thoughts will move forever in
My House of Human Skin
I am not God, I am not grace
Though I may have a normal face
I gave up being your kin within
My House of Human Skin
Emotionless, I walk these halls
Don't feel the need to talk no more
I cannot feel at all within
My House of Human Skin
One night some blacked-out faceless men
Took me away, I fought, I rent
But blood and bone were not within
My House of Human Skin
Now I stare at mattressed walls
I can no longer walk the halls
Yet my mind soars on mental wings
Cannot be stopped by trivial things
I've never been confined within
My House of Human Skin
poem by Matt Pocock
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This Poem This Afternoon
this poem
has nothing much to give you
some words
discarded that i
keep again
on this monitor
perhaps garbage
or dust or pieces of
scratch papers,
but somehow
i go on writing,
without any purpose
at all
in mind, just
to let the hours pass
by
the minutes wasted
for having to wait
on something else,
the next scene
another event
of my life
a meeting in
another room
a riding of
a vehicle to the city
and then
wait again for the
students in the
university
i talk much
and write too
little
for hours and hours
until it gets so dark
at the late hour
of the night
and then i go home
drive my car
no talking now
just paying attention
to the road
meeting my face
and the faint sound
of the aircon
of the car until i
arrive on the side
of the house
the gate opens
i turn on the light
and go inside the room
to sleep
on this chilly evening.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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2 Prince, Another One I Wrote
Murder is losing its mind, I am losing my patience
Chris Hani was murdered on 10 April
Political reasons are speculations
Speculation is a political reason
An African political prince
Was butched motive is mysterious
The brutal murder is a fatal error
This world is unjust
The land I see was sad
And the soil I walk in felt the pain
Lucky Dube was murdered on 19 October
An African prince of reggae was assassinated
Political reasons are speculations
Speculation is a political reason
Still the cause murder is baffling
Butchered for the love of the nation
And passion for country men
poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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A House called Lonely (A Trilogy in three parts)
There is a street in every town that owns a house
called lonely. Then when your just passing by you might
just say, 'if only.
If only could mean a life time of thoughts but it does'nt cure
a lonely house and all its faults.
Boarded up windows and tiles gone from the roof, graffiti
painted by a rebelious youth.
Such a lonely house and an oh such a tired one,
one that has lost all it's fun.
Stairs and rafters all gone to pot all that is left
is wood worm and dry rot.
No children playing in the garden, it's just a house condemend
by the council without no pardon. Poor lonely house someones
forgotton dream, now describing lifes social scene.
This lonely house stands in the way because their building
a By Pass or a new motorway.
The house called lonely could be any where, in the town, the
country or city square.
Even in your street there's a house called lonely just waiting
for you to say 'if only'
poem by Sylvia Spencer
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America is a country ready to be taken, in fact, longing to be taken by political leaders ready to restore democracy and trust to the political process.
quote by Arianna Huffington
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Injustice Here
Some place far from here
A baby is crying
A child is hungry
A mother is dying
Some place far from here
A family is in need
Adults cannot read
Children capture
Never again to be seen
Some place far from here
There’s no drinking water
Someone’s lost their daughter
Some place from here
People are homeless and alone
Without light and are cold
They sleep on dirt roads
With only their skin and their bones
Some place from here
There are so many things
So much injustice happening
Lots of poverty
Lots of death
But we forget
That right in our country
We have all these things too
We worry about a place far, far from here
And don’t take care of our priorities here
What about the poverty that covers our streets
Or children that are dying with no food to eat
The people in our country are suffering too
So although helping somewhere else
Is what we should do
There are obligations here first to pursue
We’re a great country
We have always been
But to continue this legacy
This is where we begin
poem by Jessica Collazo
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an Ode to Loneliness....
Loneliness need not be feared.
IT is one of the most common guests in your house.
If you fear it, it will tease you and prolong your
agony.
If you, however, meet it at the gate, and welcome it to your house,
give it some drinks, feed it well, and offer it your room, ask it to sleep with you
for ten days,
Then it will look at you from the tip of your hair to the tip of your toe and say, ' This man knows me, and has a deep thinking, he knows how to nurture me,
and take good care of a bleeding heart'
And then it will have second thoughts in deciding to stay in your house
and sleep with you in bed
It has lost its use and finally arrive at the conclusion ' You are a strong man,
you know how to live. You talk to God, and compassionate about
the pain of silence'
And then without saying goodbye
sans the note or words of departure, it leaves you and your house
looking for those who are still living on their closed houses,
on shallow waters
For indeed, Loneliness also chooses those who deserve it
Now you smile, you close the door because it is already dark,
close the windows because there is no moon,
and somehow you think about it,
honestly, you miss
what you have become so familiar about
it has become dear to you
and clearer now
it has become a part of you
like a key inside your
pocket.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Politicalamity
Wars n rumors
Of wars, no one knows what for
Toys and soldiers
Deployed, on some foreign shore
Lords and rulers
Destroy, diplomatic rapport
Communists, dictatorships
Democracies, hypocrisies
Ask not what your country can do?
To a one world governmental zoo
Political, political
Politicalamity
Its an-ar-chy
Political, political
Politicalamity
Rick n poor
Salute your countrys colors
Less is more
When one oppresses the other
Pride n power
Decorated upon collars
Donkeys, bears n elephants
All paper-trained on parliament
Ask not what your country can do?
To a one world governmental zoo
song performed by by Extreme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stranger In My Own House
(a capella: she said: boy, your luck is running out...she make me feel like a stranger...in my own house)
I come stumbling in at a quarter to three
To the sound of my own dog growlin at me
Im scared to move or turn on a light
Youve got me creepin around in the dark
Like a thief in the night
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
Ive got no place to live
I never feel at home
I walk into the kitchen to see whats there
Im tired and Im hungry but the cupboards bare
Ive been working all day and all night too
I cant believe this is all I have to come back to
I guess Ill take a look upstairs, in the danger zone
I wonder what Im doing here
When I never feel at home
Im a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Im a stranger in my own house
Ill huff and Ill puff and Ill blow this house down
Cant be a stranger in my own house
I see the do not disturb sign on my bedroom door
What is this sheet and pillow laying on the floor
I wore out my welcome
I hear you loud and clear
Its time to get a few things straight around here
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
Ive got a place to live but I never feel at home
Im just a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Stranger in my own house
Ill huff and Ill puff and Ill blow this house down
Cant be a stranger in my own house
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
With a woman like you Im better off alone
Im a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Im just a stranger in my own house
Oh, honey Im home
Im just a stranger in my own house
Im just a stranger in my own house
You got a lion on your hands girl, not a mouse!
Im just a stranger in my own house
Im just a stranger in my own house
Well, somebodys got to go...
Stranger
Stranger
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rome Revisited
To God, all evil is an abomination, what does He think of our nation,
A country led by darkened men, whose ways The Lord will condemn,
Is this today for us a wake-up call, in a nation which is about to fall?
Under the Judgment of God's Hand, in an ever increasing dark land.
Rome, remember had fallen from within, due to the wages of her sin,
Not only one city, but the empire, led away through darkened desire,
Amoral desire from the political top, once started they couldn't stop,
Rome spiraling down to her end, to the point of judgment my friend.
Judgment could be at our door, as our darkness abounds, for sure,
Stirred by political leaders in place, taking for granted God's Grace,
Many leading this nation far away, from The Lord's Righteous ways,
As the amoral, liberal ways askew, the righteous ways that we knew.
Righteousness that was the foundation, of this God blessed nation,
While men shake their fists at God, only inviting His Righteous Rod,
A rod that will bring judgment to, that blessed nation we once knew,
As we move to an immoral abyss, dismissing God's Righteousness.
All across this country we trod, leaders are turning against our God,
Denying God, who brought salvation, to this blessed gentile nation,
Turning our light to darkness friend, as we see the approaching end,
The same judgment that Rome saw, when they ignored God over all.
(Copyright ©06/2012)
Time To Stand Opposed
Truth may be black and white, but some choose the dark of night,
When it comes to political views, many simply shift and just muse.
Thinking of all, but God's Word, ignoring Truths that they've heard,
Truths which should be our light, in this world where wrong is right.
Compromising Scripture for man; it's not of God but Satan's plan,
Satan's plan to hinder God's Truth; look around and see the proof,
An amoral nation we've become, as for Truth we're biblically dumb,
Following the ways of wicked men, in a nation God shall condemn!
The Truth has become irrelevant, so how long shall The Lord relent?
He, who put His Law in our heart, from which many chose to depart,
This country shall have no excuse, regardless of how leaders muse,
As their thinking is devoid of God, so they'll see His Righteous Rod,
Unfortunately some in The Church, follow their wicked political lurch,
As they make changes suddenly, they defy the God over all eternity,
The Laws ascribed by a Holy God, for all men upon this earthly sod,
Yet more are following the evil ways, of immoral leaders in our days.
It is time for many to take a stand, in an ever increasing amoral land,
All, who know Christ's Righteousness, must oppose the wickedness,
Being Christ's Light in this world, where Satan's darkness is unfurled,
In a world that is turning dark as night, to point others to God's Light.
(Copyright ©05/2012)
Seldom Won
Independence, liberty and freedom
Bloodlessly won seldom
Stalwarts and leaders had shown wisdom
This all we now read in class rooms
Who will not want to be in free country?
Where it is classless, non racial and sans misery
What else can be dreamed of to lead it happily?
And country is surging ahead steadily
Foreign occupants are taken as cruel and marauders
Their position is that of land hungry and invaders
They might have plundered the country in process
And brutally murdered for gaining the access
All said and done and now they have packed
No more claims on our land is staked
We are fully independent and sovereign
Free from any yoke as independence is regained
What is scenario there after?
Is country leading towards disaster?
Is the freedom struggle really a boom?
Is there any scope for poor with room?
It has tuned into grim reality
It has proved our incompetence and inability
We have pushed country into Dark Age
We failed to look after people and manage
Farmers are coming suicide
Politicians are asking for free ride
Everybody is on rampage and hands are full of corruption
The loot is clearly seen and going on without any interruption
Yes, death is wealth
To take pride for Poor’s health
Where are we today on this freedom day?
Can they take us to peaceful way?
Can we not dream for two square meals?
Can they not strike a simple deal?
They come once in five years
To feed with oasis waters in deaf years
No answer may ever be found
Out economy is claimed to be sound
All well but country is in ill health
Entire country is robbed of its wealth
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Independent Woman....
we are in this house
that from our sweat built
there are only two of us
in this house
which we have not really
called as home,
something's missing
you give me a hint
not the glass window or
the ceiling fan,
i know it but how can i
tell you?
i won't tell, it will hurt you,
we continue living
somehow
just the two of us in this house
we have our own careers
and every morning we rush to go on our different ways
the night is the only place
of our tryst
we manage to spend time for love
we sleep together and share
what we can
there will be a time when this house shall fall
because it is not a home for us all
there will be one morning when you will finally leave
and take away everything from me
and then i will write it on the wall
this house is never a home,
she never wanted a child to bear.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Worn Out
last night after the usual
three-hour lecture of the law
i arrive late in the house
without the lights on
it is a blackout of some
metaphors
but the heart has been
numbed
and the mind has been
shut out
from having any contact
with any object
of affection
the hands open the car
and the feet move on
to the room
where the bed waits
it is dark in here
and the window is closed
and the air is thin
and the walls are damp
with all the
mildews still clinging
on the white tiles of
the bathroom
as though in a trance
i have thrown all the books
on the dusty floor
and without having to remove
my shirt
and pants and socks
and shoes
i retreat to the nooks
of a very sound sleep
i must have been dreaming
hearing my own
snore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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