History Lover....
a place is interesting because of the stories that you have heard before.
for instance, this bed is where this man and that woman first made it.
this house is deserted because once a fire broke here
and chaos is born, and chaos wears a mask and since then people do not recognize its face.
a name to you is interesting because your mother tells the story of that name.
the spelling has a history about a rumor and you love rumors.
shall i say that you pretend that you like to have a talk with him
because you like to gather some flowers from his garden?
that is a nice objective. Flowers are always a delight at the center table.
the earth appears to be thirsty of conflicts. That is a misinterpretation.
The deserted path knows better. No one really cares what one does with his feet.
The moon knows it all. But look, it simply shines and does not tell you anything.
For secrets have always been nuggets. They must remain buried.
When dug again and shaped into different forms, that is where the definition of hell comes out.
I am not the one saying this anyway. Quite harsh.
Hell is other people. And i am one of its delicate flames.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Paul Riser tells it in an interesting way; he dissects it and tells the structure, you know, 'you don't mention that part here.' But that's what's interesting about it and the people who are absent are interesting too.
OCEAN OF GAIETY Vavroovahana Patra
Mother Mahalaxmee appears with wealth;
In poor people’s mind plays waves of mirth.
Wealth comes with hard labour;
It provides peace, pleasure, contentment to all creatures;
Earth smiles with the appearance of Mother;
She is the operator of all creatures.
Plants smile with the desire of Mother;
People provided with food, garment, shelter live with pleasure.
Mother eradicates India’s poverty;
All citizens enchant with delight.
Mother shows devotees the right way;
In devotees’ mind plays waves of gay.
Mother smiles on the paddy plants;
Fulfils all people’s wants.
Appears on the green creepers;
She is the Deity of all creatures.
Mother blesses on the cosy rosy flowers;
Loves lotus flowers.
Loves flowers and fruits;
Her bliss is a brook of Delight.
Mother loves sanctity;
Loves purity.
Loves non-violence, love, fraternity;
She is an Ocean of Gaiety.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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The World Around Me
The world around me is a knife like a friend who
stabs you when you least expect it.
When the tensions are high,
and you have to cut through it.
And when you chop up your life,
to make it more interesting.
The world around me is a lecture,
being somewhere you don’t want to be.
Just sitting there zoning out,
into a better place.
Looking around not really noticing,
the people around you,
or what the say.
The world around me is a storm.
It will be nice one moment,
and the next it will be hectic.
Be waiting for that nice day,
but it don’t seem like it’s clearing up.
Wishing you could have that one nice day,
but the world wants it to be dark and unhappy.
The world around me is a story.
It can be long and interesting.
Or it can be short and boring.
Open the imagination and it can do wonders,
to any story.
poem by Chantel Braatz
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Rumor Has It
(bruce burch/vern dant/larry shell)
I overheard a conservation your name was mentioned in
But they didnt talk about us, only her again
I didnt want to listen but I hung on every word
They said some things I wish I hadnt heard
Chorus:
Rumor has it she has you
Rumor has it you love her too
Talk is cheap but the price is high when its true
Rumor has it she has you
This towns so small a whisper can be heard a mile away
And people here will gossip when theres nothing else to say
I wouldnt have believed my ears but I see it in your eyes
The stories going round this town arent lies
Rumor has it she has you
Rumor has it you love her too
Talk is cheap but the price is high when its true
Rumor has it she has you
Whoa...rumor has it she has you
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every Face Tells A Story
Look at the man in the corner, hes sitting all alone
His blankets are made out of cardboard,
His pillows are made out of stone
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
See the man walking on the water, see the light in his eyes
He came into the world with a message to tell,
He came into the world to die
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Youre always telling stories, youre always telling me lies
Youre always telling stories, why?
So think of yourself in the water, seeing your days flashing by
Its too late to see what you wanted to be,
Youve spent all your time, you must die
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Step down
And make it work out right
Im trying to get to you with my warning
Been there
For nearly half the night
Look its nearly four in the morning
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In this business, my business, I get to meet all kinds of incredible people, fascinating people, glamorous people and sexy people and highly intellectual people. And you meet them and you go 'interesting, interesting, interesting'. They're interesting, but not very many people stop you in your tracks.
quote by Madonna Ciccone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Now I've even gotten to running out to the fan buses that pass by our house, so I can talk to the people. I think I'm trying to gather fans, frankly. They're very, very nice people - they really understand. It's fun talking to them.
quote by Aaron Spelling
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gonna Raise Hell
Words and music by rick nielsen
Gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell.
Gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell.
Ambition? ha!
If all Ive heard is true,
Theres nothin much I can do
To change the world, its irreversible.
But in what it lacks,
Its got a taste that smacks of somethin irresistable.
Gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell.
Gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell.
Submission? yes!
Now I wont name names, and a secrets a secret,
But a hints a hint or a clue.
You really wanna know, you really wanna go,
Theres only two things you got to do.
Gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell.
Gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell.
Mother, mother.
Mother, mother.
Mother, mother.
My mission? ah, yes!
Everybody hear? everybody here,
Its a fate I all agree.
Sometimes you win, I never lose,
To me its no mystery.
Gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell.
Gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell.
(repeat to coda)
song performed by by Cheap Trick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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War and Hell
Did you honestly think that you was going
to get away with deceiving him?
The only one who placed lovely plants outside your door,
and make the stars shine all night long.
Do you really believe this world is yours and yours alone?
Well, he'll show you.
Now it's War.
Watch the flames erupt
Sizzle from under your feet
War and Hell.
Watch the flames erupt
The desert sun beams to add more heat
Crawlin' on sand
No water and no pails
Coughing and soar
War and Hell
War and Hell.
Do you wish you was better?
Do you wish you was on his side?
Do you wish you was a believer?
Do you wish he was a liar?
Now it's War.
Watch the flames erupt
Sizzle from under your feet
War and Hell.
Watch the flames erupt
The desert sun beams to add more heat
Crawlin' on sand
No water and no pails
Coughing and soar.
War and Hell
War and Hell
War and Hell
War and Hell
AHHH! !
(While I was trying to write this poem, I was thinking about Sinead O'Connor and how she writes the lyrics to her music-very biblical. I used her as my muse ansd inspiration. In this poem i wanted it to sound powerful but too draggy. The illustration tells the story of Jeremiah in The Old Testament, about him trying to talk to the Israelites and all the sinners to give their lives up for Christ) .
poem by Tamisha Bellamy
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Rumors
Flowers on a bed
Lilies on a grave;
Every lived soul
Becomes a slave
To the love we want,
And the dying we get -
Life is rudimentary rumors
And salient storms;
It's an unfinished life
In many forms
Of all the stories we have heard from afar,
Rumors, of a Land where lives no regret -
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Ocean of wisdom Vavroovahana Patra
Mother Vinapanee blessth to make wise;
Illiterates’ become wise with her bliss.
Appears in profound solitude;
Loves poets’ gratitude.
Mother is a Divine Deity;
Is the cause of Earth’s Beauty.
With her bliss poet’s name dazzles in passes of history;
She is a Broke of Delight.
With her bliss poets are immortal on Earth;
Her love is an Ocean of mirth.
Mother loves poets, singers, film stars;
With profound love she contents their desires.
Mother provides inspiration to live peacefully;
People being educated live delightfully.
Provides qualitative education;
Is the benevolent Deity of creation.
Mother eradicates illiteracy;
In all people plays waves of delight.
Poet’s surrender on the feet of Mother;
Contents poet’s desire.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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I like to take pictures of lots of things: people-such as my nephews, my dogs, and just interesting objects that I see. For instance, I might take a picture of flowers by the side of the road, an old sign or a fence.
quote by Lacey Chabert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hell Is Other People
what is hell?
Sartre says, hell is other people.
I think, i agree.
Some people simply make our lives
Live in hell,
If you feel this hell
the rumors, and betrayal,
the stabbing at the back,
the unpaid debts,
ingratitude, the prison of
dictatorships,
the irreconcilable differences,
hate and indifference,
on the other hand, there is also
the mutuality of affections,
love meeting love,
ecstasy moaning with ecstasy
pure love, agape, empathy,
faith, trust, symbiosis,
dependence and interdependence,
there is also sympathy
and unconditional love
of parents, and care of
siblings, the humanity of concerns,
and compassion, feeding the poor
and the hungry, satisfying the thirsts
of those who still desire
to live,
on the other hand, depending
on how you look at it,
on this same place
either you look at the stars above
or the mud below,
heaven could also be
other people.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Unspoken
some things need not be spoken
they serve no purpose
no use, like peripheries
of a used clothing
anger for instance
not just any kind of anger
but anger for love that was never there
in bed, in the first place, when what you
offer is only your body
your mind goes somewhere
in one corner of your self, like a ball
of thread
a blue ball of thread rolling on the floor
and stopping beside
one of the feet of the lonely table
you try to pull the thread
endlessly wanting to find the end of this
misery,
there is no end to the bad colors of your
dream, there is no light in this darkness
when the morning comes
you tell yourself, this is another day
another awakening
you go outside and look at the garden
and around the fence
carefully surfing each pathway
you pretend again to like the flowers
that bloom for the sun
you pretend some more that you are
sad of its wilting
at noon
you stop on a shade under a tree
and then you begin to think
and tell a story to yourself....
once upon a time, there lived a princess
far away in a castle on the clouds....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rebuilding A Self
inside my mind are the stories they all related to me
when i was small, mama, what i like about mama,
was her story about the elastic man, who saved his
woman of affection from the deep well by simply
extending his rubber hands.
papa cannot be outdone, who with his reserved silence,
when we rode horses, and checked the tenants of the land,
told about the story of the emperor who had no clothes,
my son be always aware that people cannot be trusted
verify, check, counter check, do not believe outright.
there were myths, and parables, there are theories
so many reminders about survival kits,
about being calm and reasonable, there is no rush,
time heals, people forget, sins are forgiven, matters of
the heart must be kept inside the chest, and the family
must always be the first to consider, less travels, save money,
keep secrets, everything in moderation, keep the readings,
donate to the church, be friendly with the powers that be,
compromise with the communists, give in to what you cannot
control, save the house, remember friends, be kind to animals,
i am sculpted. I am like a stone shaped by the rain and
the air. I am tired. But i am not giving up. I like to be a new
house, not the renovated ancestral one.
I like to be in a strange place. I am going away then.
at the top of the mountain alone, (and powerful) where i
can think more, discard all my built-in beliefs, i carry nothing.
i talk to the wind. I look over the plain.
I sit alone and watch
the moon.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sunshine Hue
Sunshine hue, sunshine grew
Shines its rays on me and you
Sunshine light sunshine bright
Not a dark cloud close in sight
Sunshine thrive sunshine grow
Sweet healing rays on all your tribe
Sunshine healing, sunshine show
The pure essence of our being
Sunshine parade, sunshine displayed
In its fractionised barricade
Sunshine tranced, sunshine danced
Gave our souls such sweet romance
Sunshine dove, sunshine above
Thanks for your sweet rays of love
So sun kissed and pure sun bliss
Sunshine blocks out all the mist
So sunshine mellow sunshine yellow
You’ve made me a lucky fellow
There is a garden where very few
can roam, not very far from home
Come closer, I am alone, just now
Go past cobwebs glistening like silver
Come closer, you're the rose
I want the most to go through
My garden of ice and snow
Blooming with rich fragrant roses
Velvety black, blue and red
Each with perfume of love
As I sleep below the roses
Loneliness has reached my skin
I need the love that ebbs and flows
Just a sip from your succulent nectar
Shall free me from this small pain
Dig deep beneath the thorny layers
And free me from your heart
That we can share the midnight hours
and know how I hunger and thirst
Just a shield me, protect me
And this shall will give me power
To become a loved once again
Without it I will fade away
I'd rather have roses on my table
Than diamonds on my neck
Where flowers bloom so does hope
Each flower is a soul opening out to nature
Perfumes are the feelings of flowers
The world is one giant rose
Smell it and pass it onto your friends
When bright flowers bloom
Parchment crumbles, my words fade
The pen has dropped...
Flowers are love's truest language
I will touch a hundred flowers
And never pick one, none
They are not long, the days of wine and roses
Out of a misty dream our path emerges
For a while, then closes within a dream
There came a time when the risk
To remain tight in the bud
Was more painful than the risk it took
Blossoming flowers are the sweetest things
Ever made and forgot to put a soul into
It is at the edge of a petal that love waits
Pure as any one of you
Who can estimate the elevating and refining
Influences and moral value of flowers
With all their graceful forms
Bewitching shades and combinations
Colours and exquisitely varied perfumes
These silent influences are unconsciously felt
Even by those who do not appreciate them
And thus with better and still better flowers
Will the earth be transformed, man's thought
Refined, and turned from the base destructive
Forces into nobler, more simpler production
One which will lift us to high planes of action
Toward the happy day when the angels
Of all this beautiful work is more acknowledged
Loved with many richer grains
Better fruit and fairer flowers from this earth
For myself I hold no preferences among flowers
So long as they are wild, free, spontaneous.
Observe this dew drenched rose garden
A rose today, tomorrow and yesterday
It was the dust, the sunshine, and the rains
Which I first saw, or desired to see, the flower
In the cherry blossom's shade
There's no such thing as a stranger
The thoughts grow as freely as the flowers
The dreams are as beautiful in friendship
Fragrant garden, there are flowers of every hue
Each with its own fair beauty and its gift of joy
None can have a healthy love for flowers
Unless he loves the wild ones freely
White blossoms slowly float down
Dancers in the wind as everything has been
But the spring breeze
A flowerless room is a soulless room
To my way of thinking
But even on solitary little vase
Home of a living flower may redeem it
Thought of before, in the hope
Reaching the moon, men fail to see
The flowers that blossom at their feet
Who would have thought it possible
That a tiny little flower could preoccupy
A persons mind completely
There simply wasn't room for any other thought
Let me show you the sweet smell
A delicate whisper behind the vision
Gardens are drunk from roses
And it is my faith, that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes
Flowers leave their fragrance
In the hand that bestows them
We gathered the wild flowers
There seemed one pure delight
Through the field we roamed
There seemed one pure delight
Silently a flower blooms
In silence it falls away
Yet here now, at this moment, at this place
The world of the flower
The whole of you is blooming
This is the talk of the flower
The truth of the blossom
The glory of eternal life
Is fully shining here
But the spring breeze
A flowerless room is a soulless room, to my way of thinking;
but even on solitary little vase of a living flower may redeem it.
There grows the flower of Peace
The Rose that cannot wither
Do not the petals flutter down
Just like this?
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take, towards the door we never opened and into the rose garden with all the flowers of all the tomorrows are in the seeds of today, every flower about a house certifies to the refinement of somebody, every vine climbing and blossoming tells of love and joy and stories yet to come…
poem by Char Pattrick
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Tressure And Dry Earth
The dry earth every time generated dark smoke everywhere like morning misty
Delight full sky with sun voyaging full of day without space for dark cloud time of every
Ounce upon time made many of lake seen like one of garden grass with tasty
The people of sin excavated for destroying the proud of history among dry
The natural dowry destroying ignorant people it be hate for living people
They never get to chance for living like human the hell will open it will be true
The people turn to back world via clause till die all of innocent people
They refuse theme with people and natural will hate and revenge
The history and heritages thieving sin people without knowing proud of mother s land
Where can shown some day to own children this is mine deposited for my love proved
The future heritage dry earth and empty forest live and sorrow with gathered
Oh the dowry from father vanish children cried with sorrow weeping wiped
The smooth whether turn to dry and harmfully for people living better
With large thirsty wild animal carcass showing every village near
Demolish link with natural the people feared and shivered and murmur
Although they not allowed pure reality by word of believably will listen wind whisper
poem by Inguruwatta Pushpadewa
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Sonnet: God’s Love is Prime
God’s love made earth and gave man a life-span;
God’s love made Eve, Adam and all beasts on earth;
God’s love made plants and everything for man;
God’s love made creatures, giving them their breath.
God’s love made Him to give Ten Commandments;
God’s love made Sun, Moon, Stars- the Universe;
God love allowed devils’ impediments;
God’s love let man to make conditions worse.
God’s love made Jesus die upon the Cross;
God’s love made Him redeem the souls of men;
God’s love made His spirit remove chaos;
God’s love made Eternal life in Heaven.
God’s love made man to love this neighbor well;
God’s love made Him to cast bad souls to Hell.
6-11-2001
poem by John Celes
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Change Heals
Chaos;
The Mother of change
Matter falling apart
Only to gather again
Infinite probabilities
Re-forming…
What of human chaos?
Internal change...
Events, emotions falling apart through
Accumulated experience, pain, suffering
With choices determining probabilities
Re-forming…
Befriend chaos
Befriend thyself
Allow chaos
Allow change
“The only real truth on Earth is change”
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Learning To Love All The Mess
three plates remain unwashed
last night the cockroaches feast on the remains
of pork oil and morsels of rice
and bread
the dining chairs are not in place
looking like twigs in the park
after a storm
the table is littered with spilled sauce
the table cloth is stained
alcoholic
and the spoons and forks are still
having catchup on their tongues
and tails
the floor is foul with your dog's urine
and socks and shoes are roaming on the
living room
you guess it right
the universe is a big chaos
and so is this house
which is out of order
like a sink with leaking faucets
you want all your life to be in order
you wish a smooth and tidy place
vested with its own system
name-tagged and cabinetized
pieces
but it simply is not just
the way things work out
your dreams are silly
chaos and pandemonium are the orders of the
days of our lives
and so here i am with this firm resolve
to the flexibility of adaptability
for my survival
since disorder is the law
so must i obey it
to perfect my life and to put order
to my dreams and
properly accept this world's disposition
so must i
love chaos as well
go with the random flow of pandemonium
enjoy the errors
love the mistakes
and i swear to myself
beginning this ruinous day
that i,
wholeheartedly
must love all these mess
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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