En.Citatepedia^®.ro

For Us To Become What We Really Are

when you ask me
i always have
those answers

i know how
to invent what is not there
as a kit for my
survival

i ask you
perhaps sometime

when we are
freed from our
syndromes

to dropp all those questions
and leave
them unattended for
a while

like leaves from
our twigs when

we have chosen to be
trees emptied of
our barks

we shall see
skeletons of our
selves

freed from the trappings
of our flesh
from the support of our
bones

for then we shall
have no biases
of the longings of
our minds

liberated from the
shackles of
what we strongly
believe in

and i will tell you again
that i have all the answers
not of my invention anymore
but those handed
to us

by the hands of the sun
by the mouths of the rivers
by the lips of the moon
by the whispers of the stars

o, let the winds be cold
let the nights be lonely
we need all these sometimes
so that we may become
what we must be really are.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Those Happy Times

i agree with you Benny
most of the happy moments we have are those
outside the house
when the big heads and the righteous old ones are not looking
they were our prison guards
and they were treating us
like convicts of the crimes we did not commit
but we maintained the silence
because of the respect
for old age not really wisdom

i agree the rivers and the seas know us better
than there mouths
their beating hands
their gritting teeth cursing us the day we were born
poor like they way they lived and survived their own wars
their own fates
there was not attempt at all by them to learn
to reconstruct old broken selves
to heal old worn hearts
to free the mind from those that fettered them
their parents of course
our grandparents as we call them
those insensitive looks
those shoulders as broad as their indifference

that was the farthest place we lived once
we live with
i am sure of myself
i am liberated
i have freed my minds from the shackles of poverty
and prejudices

i am sure
indeed i am sure
i cannot live there anymore
and coming back
to me would be murder
as mortal as death
as crazy as suicide

well we can send them letters
or emails
we can send them chain letters
and pictures of saints
or the Pope or
Mother Teresa
but i guess with their senile minds
and cracked bones

everything is now too late
it is dark
and remember
we were children once and they never let us play

under the full moon
when the stars glitter when we first learn
the magic
of imagination
when the air was fresh
when romance first showed
under the bush
when it rains and then we do not run
back for shelter
when we dance and laugh
and chase
dreams and ambitions
images and colors
rainbows and bridges
fairies and kingdoms...

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Freed...

freed from having to eat only
twice a day,
from having to walk for a day
just to learn to read in school
from fetching water five mountains away
from washing my body
in that river where stones are slimy
where accidents are not seldom
from ignorance
and hunger and thirst and
indifference
from a room with triple deck beds
from a rotten dormitory
from teachers with narrow minds
from religious intolerance
from a belief that only we can be saved when this world ends
freed from a belief
that there is an ending to life
that there is only death that makes this life a meaningful stay
freed from the tradition of strong family ties that minds every detail of
how life must be lived
how funerals are conducted
what colors of candles what light is necessary
freed from Spanish rule from English domination
from from brothers of superior minds who think that only they know
where we must go
and stay

freed at last from myself who thinks that there is no more possibility
for growth
freed from an insecure living
freed from all those prisons that still lurk inside my mind
freed at last
from freedom itself

freed from fire and cold
from paradoxes and ironies
freed at last from cliches and constantly invoked metaphors
freed at last from the clutches of words
into the limitless thoughts
into sunless seas
into moonless nights
into inconceivable eternities

freed at last from the nucleus of my atom
into the mysteries of more explosions
mushrooming into space
beyond the bars of my
imagination

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Instead Of Being A Pessimist

You want answers to your questions?
Ask yourself this...
What began the origin of those questions.
And...
How did they begin for you to exist.

You want a life you like?
Oppose to the one you don't?
Why have you chosen to dislike what you do?
And who enforced this dislike upon you.

Do you live with wishes to fulfill your dreams?
Or are you focused on others,
Who seem to have 'your' things.

Are you focused upon others,
Who seem to be living your life?
Doing those things,
You wish for you also to like?

Perhaps those questions you ask,
Are not yours afterall.
And perhaps those answers,
That have come to you answered...
You ignored them to disbelieve,
Those answers received...
Were not yours.
Because you spend your time,
In the minding of other people's business!

And your business,
You haven't given your time to see...
Succeed.
But your time is spent,
Lamenting others you despise and criticize.

You want answers to your questions?
Wait for therm patiently to come.
Before you impatiently decide,
To get up and leave.
Believing they can be found,
With you not around.

You want answers to your questions?
Ask yourself this...
What began the origin of those questions.
And...
How did they begin for you to exist?
Ask yourself that.
Instead of being a pessimist!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Questions?

i am tired of questions
all of them
too familiar and all
with ready
homemade answers

canned questions
and answers
in one book
scanned for years
and you all know them

canned laughter
canned faces

canned souls
canned and caned and chained
bones

they rattle and they shake
and roll

i have no answers.
i am throwing all these questions away.

i live everyday. i look at the trees
and the forests.

i simply live. Now.
i have no more questions.

neither will i demand
any answer from you.

go, go, find yourself.
i stay here wanting to find nothing at all.

i guess, after my 48 years
there is this truth
that i find: there is nothing

nothing to find
nothing to expect

nowhere to go
it is just this and this and this.

the one that i have in my hand
the one that i keep on holding
i enclose it and keep it warm
and alive

and you do not even care
this is it: me, myself, and I

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Boys To Men

Growing up can be a pain
Youre not an man until you come of age
Weve given up our teenage years
In the effort to pursue our career
Who assumes responsibility
Of having to support our families
Whos protecting us from harm
Is there anyone around
That we can trust
So we search for answers to our questions
Looking for answers
No answers but were taught a lesson everytime
Through mistakes weve learned to gather wisdom
Lifes responsibility falls in our hands
Keep on learning
Keep on growing
cause wisdom helps us understand
Were maturing
Without knowing
These are the things that change boys to men
Oh the goals we set may exceed reality
Cause failurealways a possibility
Who can tell us that were wrong
Its up to us to figure out
What life is all about
So we search for answers to questions
Looking for the answers
No answers but were taught a lesson everytime
Through mistakes weve learned to gather wisdom
cause wisdom helps us see our responsibility.

song performed by by New Edition
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Skeletons In The Closet

Woah-oh, woah-oh
Skeletons in my closet
Woah-oh, woah-oh yeah
Skeletons in my closet
Skeletons in my closet
Skeletons in my shoes
Skeletons I can only see
I said woah-oh, woah-oh
I got skeletons in my closet
I said woah-oh, woah-oh yeah
Skeletons in my closet
Skeletons I can lose
Skeletons in my basement
Loitering on my streets
Wearing my best pajamas
Sandwiched between my sheets
I said woah-oh, woah-oh yeah
Skeletons in my closet
I said woah-oh, woah-oh yeah
Skeletons in my closet
Ooh, I see bones
I see bones, icy bones
Ooh, I see bones
Say say bones - say boys don't you see them bones?
Rattle them bones at midnight
Shaking my bed, no sleep
I find fingers in my coat pocket
Skeletons from the deep
I said woah-oh, woah-oh
I got skeletons in my closet
I said woah-oh, woah woah-oh
I got skeletons in my closet
Ooh, I see bones
I see bones, s-see bones
Ooh, I see bones
I see bones
Say boys don't you see them bones?
No?
Heart bones, leg bones, ankle bones, arm bones,
finger bones, dogie bones, head bones
Skeletons in my closet
They even know when I'm in my closet
It's my.. my closet
Not your closet
My closet
You can have it though
Alice we want you
Alice
Alice
A-Alice
What?
Whaddya want

song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blind

Ive been searching for the answers
Ive been diving in the sea
Ive been haunted by the shadows
Of what we could have been
And its not that Im broken
And it isnt that I bleed
But when you pulled the stars from the heavens
It got so hard to see
And where would I put my hands now?
Its over now, we had our time
Its over now, we had our time
But you leave me, blind
Will you leave me, blind
Dove for the treasures
We went deep down for the pearls
And we could have cracked it open
Yeah, it could have been so good
And where would I put my hands now?
Its over now, we had our time
Its over now, we had our time
I feel this pain, I know Im alive
If love is wrong, then Im doing time
I feel myself, small like a child
My love has gone, how will I survive
Its everywhere, its in the trees
All those stars and I cant see
Im blind, Im blind, Im blind
And how will you think of us
A crease along your hand
Lying at these temple doors
Beautiful and sad
And where would I put my hands now?
Its over now, we had our time
Its over now , we had our time
But you leave me, blind
Will you leave me, blind
Its in the trees
All those stars and I cant see
Oh, you leave me, you leave
You leave me, blind, blind
Ooh, you leave me, you leave me
Its in the trees
You leave me, you leave me
Blind

song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cold Shoulder

Watching the stars on primrose hill
The moon is high and the city is still
I came here to escape the chill
Of your cold shoulder
Evil sometimes the things you say
If you really wish I would just go away
Then why do you cry
Like a little child
All your world thats what you say I am
Im working so hard to be a better man
You know Ill never ever lie, never play those games with my mind
Youll be the loser, you might find
Questions lead to answers in time
While youre so cold, so cold inside
Remember that fight in amsterdam
When I made you cry cause I know I can?
You could not escape the chill
Of my cold, cold shoulder
All your world thats what you say I am
Im working so hard to be a better man
You know Ill never ever lie, never play those games with my mind
Youll be the loser, you might find
Questions lead to answers in time
While youre so cold
I know youre hurting inside
Want someone to pay for the tears you cry
Aint gonna be me, not this time
Never lie, never play those games with my mind
Youll be the loser, you might find
Questions lead to answers in time
While youre so cold, so cold inside
Never play those games with my mind
Youll be the loser, you might find
Questions lead to answers in time
While youre so cold, so cold inside
I know youre hurting
Im hurting too
But I dont wanna hurt you
cause I love you
But my head says not this time

song performed by by Culture Club
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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evasive (EDITED FOR one letter only)

the answers are shy
they have not matured

they always are not
confronting the questions

which keep on roaming like
Nazi soldiers looking

for the kill of the innocent
ones

the answers are arrows
with blunt tips

the questions are the black holes
of our universe

who dares to answer all of them
not me

i see all the questions
and i am but a little boy stupid on the street

looking for mother
and afraid of what a father can do

to defend the senselessness of
my posture

the questions are alive
the answers need a redemption

i take the side step
write a poem and then sleep

who knows?
the answer is nothing but a dream

yes, a dream
something ephemeral

yes, an illusion
something like a mirror

yes, a moment,
something that must pass like the shadow of the moon.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Evasive

the answers are shy
they have not matured

they always are not
confronting the questions

which keep on roaming like
Nazi soldiers looking

for the kill of the innocent
ones

the answers are arrows
with blunt tips

the questions are the black holes
of our universe

who dares to answer all of them
not me

i see all the questions
and i am but a little boy stupid on the street

looking for mother
and afraid of what a father can do

to defend the senselessness of
my posture

the questions are alive
the answers need a redemption

i take the side step
write a poem and then sleep

who know?
the answer is nothing but a dream

yes, a dream
something ephemeral

yes, an illusion
something like a mirror

yes, a moment,
something that must pass like the shadow of the moon.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When Nothing Is Handed To Us

when nothing is handed to us
we learn to acquire what we think we really need

this is the instinct of survival
and we do not depend on the power of the sun

or the mercy of the moon
we may ask the tiny stars to lend a little of their light

for the darkness of our nights
but when there is none even a flicker from

the stones will be enough
we learn to burn the dryness of our hearts

to create this innate fire
and when we realize what we really are

we begin to find for ourselves the truth
we create our own light and we share the warmth

we become ourselves and then they look at us
we gain so much courage and we do not mind them anymore

when nothing is handed
we learn for the first time that we have our hands to move

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Answers

I kept my answers small and kept them near;
Big questions bruised my mind but still I let
Small answers be a bullwark to my fear.

The huge abstractions I kept from the light;
Small things I handled and caressed and loved.
I let the stars assume the whole of night.

But the big answers clamoured to be moved Into my life. Their great audacity
Shouted to be acknowledged and believed.

Even when all small answers build up to
Protection of my spirit, still I hear
Big answers striving for their overthrow.

And all the great conclusions coming near.

poem by Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell
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More Questions Than Answers

There are wars around us daily and the world sleeps,
But read your Bible always to know the facts about all these prophesies!
For there are more questions than answers on this earth,
And like a red mark on the foreheads of mankind.

Of hope in life,
Of power in the name of war,
Of love to the people we care for,
Of faith on the journey on this earth,
And of a sound mind in the land of roses;
But there are more questions than answers on this earth.

Beside the service of two,
Elias came as a surprise to us! !
And like the prophecy that is known to you;
But there are more questions than answers on this earth.

Captured by various lusts,
But we brought nothing to the world and we will take away nothing out of it!
And like our tears after the bombs,
But there are more questions on this earth than answers.

Bombs everywhere! !
And like the corpses after the wars;
But in youthful lusts with green-uniforms like the flesh and blood as seen in Ivory Coast and in Libya!
And the world sleeps because of its many problems.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Dont Ask Me

I got ideas but I dont know it all
And when I speak you know my voice is small
And when Im walking down the street
I never smile at folks I meet
Cause I know they wont smile at me
Now ask yourself why this should be
But if you want the answers
If you want the answers
Dont ask me
If you want the answers
If you want the answers
Dont ask me
I got feelings but they dont count for much
And I shake my fist but I got no power as such
But if I tell you what I see
Dont throw my words right back at me
Cause I cant shout and I cant moan
Cause I got problems of my own
But if you want the answers
If you want the answers
Dont ask me
If you want the answers
If you want the answers
Dont ask me
Someday soon I gotta learn enough
To justify my actions
Until then I want you all to try
To share my gut reactions
Gut reactions
But if you want the answers
If you want the answers
Dont ask me
If you want the answers
If you want the answers
Dont ask me

song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When You Have Done Your Best

when you have done your best
and they all begin to like
your art
your ways and what you want to become
when they also want to become like you
when you tell them now where to go
and what to do
when they are now at home with themselves
in their own chosen climates and houses
when they have understood their fears
and learned to live with their longings
when they have learned the power
of laughter
when they have learned to dream
when they have learned
how to talk to a tree,

it is time for you to go
you have freed them all from their shackles
you have taught them how to fish

it is time for you to go
your presence has become useless
it is now time to go
human reconstructor.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Somewhere Down The Road

(Wayne Kirkpatrick/Amy Grant)
So much pain and no good reason why
You cried until the tears run dry
Nothing else can make you understand
The one thing that you held so dear
Is slipping from your hand
And you say
Why, why, why
Does it go this way
And why, why, why
And all I can say is
Somewhere down the road
There'll be answers to the questions
Somewhere down the road
Though we cannot see it now
And somewhere down the road
You will find mighty arms reaching for you
And they will have the answers
At the end of the road
Yesterday I thought I'd seen it all
I thought I'd climbed the highest wall
But now I see that learning never ends
And all I know to do is keep on walking
'Round the bend
Singing
Why, why, why
Does it go this way
Why, why, why
And all I can say is
Somewhere down the road
There'll be answers to the questions
Somewhere down the road
Though we cannot see it now
And somewhere down the road
You will find mighty arms reaching for you
And they will hold the answers
At the end of the road
Somewhere, somewhere down
And somewhere down the road
There'll be answers to the questions
Somewhere down the road
Though we cannot see it now
And somewhere down the road
You will find mighty arms reaching for you
They will have the answers
At the end of the road
They will have the answers
At the end of the road
Somewhere down the road, yeah
Somewhere, somewhere
Somewhere, somewhere, somewhere down the road
Why, why, why
There will be arms reaching, down the road
Somewhere, somewhere, somewhere
Oooh

song performed by by Faith Hill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Question Anyone

We have in life
a surfeit
of those who step to the mark
to declare
what should and can be done.

Ideas pour
from their open mouths
enunciating in grave tones
and solemn decrees
making claim
to the Wisdom
of the Knowledge Tree.

Regard these not
or follow those
who claim Secret Lore
and urge 'follow me.'

Hard Truth:
Every one claims answers
but cannot tell you what is the question;

every one thinks their answer
if true for them
is also true for you;
from that silly stance recoil.

Every sage can tell you what to do
but none can identify the first step.

All can see the path to follow
but none can answer
if a first step
is consistent with several paths which may follow.

None can answer
if you deny their answers offered,
(which are commonly either or choices)
but note life most often shows either/or
most often is neither/other.

None can tell you what is scientific about the scientific method.

None can separate in a simple sentence the difference between
book learning and common sense.

No sage alive can claim to know why Progress Now
has crashed so low-
despite all the Smart Ones
gone before.

Why is it that ignorance always fills the void
that Knowledge leaves?

Why are there always a surplus of answers
but few good questions?

I don't know
but I know what I don't know
hopefully,
that makes me one step ahead
of those who know the answer
before the question.

I think
those that always know
what they think they know
without ever asking
what is the question
that their knowing
is the answer to-
don't know
anything.

Best to smile faintly,
turn
and leave.

In life,
deep wisdom states:
we must learn to ask our own questions
so that answers are our own answers
drawing upon our own experience.

Ask not what the wise think
but ask instead
what questions did they ask
when it counted
as now,
at the brink.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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If A Man Answers

(toby keith/chuck cannon)
You said you need a little time
A little time to yourself
Im staring down this telephone wonderin
There might be someone else
If a man answers when I call
Ill just hang up, I wont say anything at all
If a man answers I know what Ill do
Ill lie here awake so I dont dream about you
If a man answers this time of night
At least Ill know somebodys holding you tight
If a man answers I wont call again
And Ill know where I stand while I twist in the wind
Oh baby, Im just missin you
Im crazy still in love with you
I know my heart will break in two
If a man answers, if a man answers
I just gotta tell you girl
Maybe somehow make you see
How much I want you to come back to me
But if a man answers youll never know
Hell let you sleep while I let you go
Oh baby, Im just missin you
Im crazy still in love with you
I know my heart will break in two
If a man answers, if a man answers
If a man answers youll never know
If a man answers Ill let you go
If a man answers this time of night
If a man answers hes holding you tight
If a man answers, if a man answers
If a man answers, if a man answers
If a man answers, oh if a man answers
If a man answers, if a man answers

song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Are Images Created For?

The answers to questions,
Are there.
The answers have always been there.
Impatiently glaring.

But what has been absent...
Is a quitting to dispense,
The distribution of pretentions...
Of those defining who is qualified,
With credentials certified...
That impresses with appearances,
Images relied upon...
That those knowledgeable oppose.
And refuse to masquerade to disguise.

The answers to questions,
Are there.
The answers have always been there.
Impatiently glaring.
But those who stare...
Seek something there that impresses.
And if it is not an image dressed,
To impress expectations...
The answers that are there,
Will continually to be ignored.

What are images created for?
If there are not there to enhance pretentions.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Can you live without answers? All of you, ask that of yourself. Can you live without answers? Because if you cannot, then most assuredly you will invent your own answers and they will comfort you. And all those who do not share your view will by their very existence strike fear and hatred into your heart. What god blesses this?

quote by Steven Erikson
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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