His Sweetness
now i know who in this office
is sweet
it is him
it is him that we suspect
his urine
it is his urine which the ants
have feasted
it is him who is sick
it is him who does not admit it
he has no reason to live
the wine takes him
the cigarettes choke him
the nights bury him with its
loud music
this early morning he lies drunk
on the sidewalk
his mouth still with froth
his eyes still tightly closed
his stomach now again
protesting....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Weep Day
I never went to the tropical island
Though everybody said they saw me there
And it wasnt me you punched a hole in
At the west german protest march
Simultaneous events dont happen
We are isolated temporally
And a part is never called the whole thing
Though it bothers us to know its so
Every man is made of two opinions
Every woman has a second half
And its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Yes, its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
I didnt write the words you hear me singing (didnt write the words you hear me singing)
I didnt sing the line before this one (didnt sing the line before this one)
You are not the one I was addressing (you are not the one I was addressing)
That person took a train to africa (africa)
Where he met the consulate from belgium
Who is now a buddhist in a cave
Who is pitching for the oakland raiders
Striking out the batter she became
Every man is made of two opinions
Every woman has a second half
And its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Yes, its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Yes, its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Weep day for urine man (weep day for urine man)
Weep day for urine man (weep day for urine man)
Weep day for urine man (weep day for urine man)
Weep day weep day
Weep day weep day
Weep day weep day
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Ask For Dog
Dog was
Pass urine...
At not toilet...
With any tree's...
up the leg...
On pass the urine...?
Why dog up the leg
pass urine...!
urine become free...!
ok...
don't ask for dog...!
woow woow...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nasty Bath Room
The bustand
Bath room
Was not for
Clean...
Urine sumeel
Cut the nose...
Some budy pass
Urine...
No for water
But
Colected money
For indian rupees
Onr for urine pass...
Rupees two for
Motion pass...
I was give
One rupee
I went the
Bustand bath room...
Not passed
The urine...
Urine was my self
Very urgent...
But i did not pass urine;
I was pay the one rupee
For indian money
Nasty bath room...
You also go and see
The bustand that bath room
Very care full...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Poetics 5....
'DEEP IN MY heart
i love you' this is the first song of the morning radio
the patio smells urine
the covering of the chamber pot is left open
the old man saves his urine
for ten days
you imagine nothing
i can see the blank wall again
nothing red like a rose
then you laugh so hard
the glass falls off from the sink
breaks its mouth on the
marble floor
you have a canvass of manila paper
and a black crayon and then
you draw a man with twenty tongues
and a very big mouth like
manila bay
you put their the name of the man
who broke your heart
fifty times
tore your being apart like a broken
hymen of your first love
you must have remembered your first scream
of that pain
and then you finally come to the conclusion
about that regret
not having feasted upon that pain again
that crazy man
he never asked you again for a date in that
fungal hotel
nosy bellboys
broken locks of the door
and greasy floors
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cow's urine
Cow 's
urine is...
Very very
Good...
It was usese
Some houses
At the...
Drops to water
Washing...
In india's
villages...
yes it is
Some naturral
Anti water...
some moor
village people
washes face also...
Cow's urine...
With gentely...!
[in india at tamil nadu village people usese's cow's urine...}
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Johannesburg
There are mini-bus taxis everywhere
hooting, swerving, stopping anywhere
and people on the street
shouting to each other
as if they are not
in talking distance,
but as if everybody is deaf.
Some hawkers are selling
sweets, cigarettes and newspapers
while others are cooking maize,
porridge and eggs.
Youngsters stand next to
parking meters showing
open parking spaces
and demanding money
to watch vehicles parked there.
Some hobos sleep
in tattered blankets
and smell of wine
and liquor and the sick
sweet odour or retching.
Prostitutes walk up and down
street corners in mini skirts
and t-shirts
with nipples showing through
and have hello smiles
plastered across their faces.
Some gum sniffing children
beg at traffic lights
with twisted arms and legs
and other beggars
have posters wishing you well
or telling you to go to hell.
People queue in lines
waiting for busses
and some stand smoking
while they talk
and businessmen, lawyers,
soldiers, secretaries
are walking quickly past
with briefcases, satchels,
and handbags
and on the sidewalk
there is urine,
blood, vomit, some rotting food
and smoked cigarettes
and everywhere signs
of a city in a country
that is falling apart.
poem by Gert Strydom
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On the Wall
Dog was
Pass urine
Upthe leg on the wall...
Human also pass
Urine stand the leg
On the wall
The wall tell the human
'you also good dog
But...
Bad human...'
No problem human
Pass the urine tenson free...
On the wall....!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rain
I love the rain
It causes smells to change
Washing as I walk
Urine off the sidewalk
poem by Tom J. Mariani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Toilet for dog
Urine pass
Dog
At wall
Leg up...
A style of
Dog urine pass...? ? ? ?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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The Lawyer's Wife Has Stage IV Cancer of the Breast...
she lies there in the living room
on that sofa,
her body swells, and her husband says
she is another hopeless case
in whispers seeing to it that she does not hear any word
about
being hopeless, but i think she knows it, she is not dumb after all
that all these are obvious enough
her body does not feel anything now
her eyes speak a lot
but her mouth does not release a word
her tongue coils inside her cheek
the room is filled with the smell of death
urine, fecal matter,
i say a prayer for her repose.
the images of a woman playing tennis during saturday mornings
in sneakers, drinking wine with her husband at the veranda
a lawyer fed up with life's drama
their children have lives of their own
and soon
he will be facing life all alone
when she finally closes her eyes
to see another world
before her
closed eyes
saturdays will never be the same again
but he is strong, he will always be strong
he will have another defense... it is too painful an image to see
and so i shifted my gaze
to the durian tree
lush leaves, strong branches, and
fruitless
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Very Nasty
Urgent
Very urgent
Play boy
Simply pass
The urine
At bed
Without sleep...!
Play boy play
AT URINE ALSO...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sweet Darlin
Sweet darlin
You saved me
Im hummin
From the lovin
You gave me
You went so far
Where my feelings are
Breathing heaven fire
Sweet darlin
I know you
You stopped running
You knew I had something
To show you
The fever tamed
Like an angel came
Made music of my name
Sweet darlin
Early that morning we knew I had to fly
Engines were screaming and still I was asking myself why
High on the wind I was feeling my sweet darlin cry
My heart was breaking
I closed my eyes
Darlin
Can you hear me
We cant be wrong
The nights song
Pulls you near me
Time just falls
Distance small
I feel you all
Sweet darlin
song performed by by Heart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early In The Morning
Early in the morning and I cant get right
Had a little date with my baby last night
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Now its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to all the places where we used to go
Went to your house but you dont live there no more
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to your friends house but she was out
Knock on your fathers door and he began to shout get out there boy
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to doogie chain to get something to eat
Waiter looked at me and said you sure look beat
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Payday
Lets go out on the town tonight
My pockets are heavy with loot
And get drunk and blasted
(and loud in your dress of blue)
Ive been living from hand to mouth
It must be three or four weeks
And I can tell you one thing jack
You listen when your stomach speaks
I feel good just like I knew that I would
And all on account of that wine that I bought today
Im smiling so sweet
At every little girl that I meet
Some fools will try to tell you its a sin to feel this way
It feels so funny having all of this money
I think I feel like dancing the night away
I think I feel like dancing the night away
I got me this long legged girl
To help me to spend my dough
Her heart as big as your mamas stove
And her body like brigitte bardot
Im all ready for some rock and roll
With the guitar turned up loud
And the fancy footwork
And the (drunk) down, druged up crowd
I feel good just like I knew that I would
All on account of that wine that I bought today
Im smiling so sweet
At every little girl that I meet
Some fools will try to tell you its a sin to feel this way
It feels so funny having all of this money
I think I feel like dancing the night away
I think I feel like dancing the night away
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The new Pretoria
Why does this city with its Jacaranda trees
seem so much like the one
surrounded by mine dumps?
Its lines usually square lie broken
filled with tall towers gleaming
in the early morning summer sun.
Sunnyside once peaceful
resembles Hillbrow, with poor homeless people
and Nigerian criminals walking the streets
and at a park I pause
to sit on a bench under the shade of a tree
and minibus taxis drive past hooting
the sidewalk is full of people
talking at the top of their voices
and unstoppable the crumbling, deterioration
the fading into third world surrounds me
and at a tree not ten metres away
a black man pulls his pants down
to relieve himself and whistles during the act
and the sweet scent of the flowering Jacarandas,
is suddenly gone
and the air is filled with the stench of urine
and excrement and zipping his pants
the man asks me for a cigarette.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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135
i know you live a very simple life
i know my friend that
you live a very simple life out there
waking up in the morning
working in the office
buying food in the market
watch tv
sleep early at night
wake up early again
listen to the morning news
a visit in the chapel
work in the office again
a chat with friends
a little drink of cali with them
sometimes
and no broken heart to nourish
like a wound that does not heal.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Know You Live A Very Simple Life
i know my friend that
you live a very simple life out there
waking up in the morning
working in the office
buying food in the market
watch tv
sleep early at night
wake up early again
listen to the morning news
a visit in the chapel
work in the office again
a chat with friends
a little drink of cali with them
sometimes
and no broken heart to nourish
like a wound that does not heal.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Need For A New House....Or Home...
early morning
when the doors are still closed and the windows still tipsy
like the whole house
you fly away
the sun comes out with the clouds
early morning you fly away
away from it all
the clouds are floors and grasses
and you are a lonely bird among a flock of chairs
early morning you fly away
thinking about nothing
you fly away and you feel like a leaf inside
that gentle beast
it is a ride-awA Need For A New House....Or Home...ay
among the paradoxes of life
and its ironies
early morning there is this flight that takes you to a stop-over
of your life
no one knows that you are grieving
over a search for what you feel
the one you had which you lost
intentionally
among the flock of chairs landing early morning
on unstable floors
early morning you take a cab
you choose still
which house
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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434
She Writes A Poem She Also Wears
Her Shades
For What Reason That Is Something That We All Have To Figure Out
But I Remember Something About What She Once Said
While We Were Walking At The Park
Her Ratiocination
Of Wearing Shades
She Looks At People In Detail
Without Them Knowing That She Is Looking
In Short, Manny, She Goes Out But She Never Lets
Others In
Just Like In Her Life, It Has Always Been This One-Way Drive
She Pops Out
And Then She Closes Everything
Her Mouth Shut
And Her Heart Closed Tightly
And Coldly
Like The Sweet Honey
(I Meant The Sweet Person That She
Is Or Was)
Stiff And Hardened
In The Freezer Frozen
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Gary Granada’s definition of a house
A shanty of cartons as walls
Some tin for roof
Several cuttings of tin
And some worn out rubber tires
To keep the tin roofs
In place
Ten persons reside there
Too crowded
Smell of dead fish
Smell of decayed fish
And dried urine
Rodent and human urine
Hotter than the
Temperatures of
An Arizona desert
Patches of wasted wood
Planks of leftovers
Undefined window frames
There is no comfort
Room or living
Room or bed or
Sala
Every floor
Every patch
Is a bed, a room,
A kitchen
All in one
For ten people or more
Is this what you call a house?
Gary Granada is singing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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