I Am Not Afraid Of Emptiness
i may not have told you, but now i will tell it to you
three times,
girl, i am not afraid of emptiness
the one that walks upon you when you were once this huge
space like a Gothic church with doors like mountains and windows
like continents
the sound of emptiness reverberates like a tin cup
that falls on the iron rails of this room
it fills every nerve that coils upon itself and forms a hand gripping
for waterfalls
it closes the ears and rips every rational entries that your eyes
write in the pages of your journal
it encloses you like a mental jacket of that new patient
at ward 6,
it walls you in like you are a chair inside the congested kitchen
look, who likes the congestion of the spirits?
who likes the choking of the nicks of time?
who likes a light imprisoned in its own flames
burning itself upon itself like a candle consuming both of its ends?
who like the mezzanine filled with letters that you keep
containing love stories of suicide and escape?
look upon your face too crowded with your senses?
it is a forest with trees killing each other for an ounce of light
roots upon roots and leaves upon leaves this world is too crowded
with unraveling thoughts
i am not afraid of emptiness
i like my windows opening all the days of my life
i like doors without locks
stairs without rails, houses without walls and roofs
i live in open space and yes right here inside my heart
i thrive in its empty spaces without the nerves and the veins
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Growing Up
Folded in your fleshy purse
I am floating once again
While the muted sounds are pumping rhythm
All the walls close in on me
Pressures building wave on wave
til the water breaks and outside I go, oh
One dot, thats on or off, defines what is and what is not, one dot
Two dot, a pair of eyes, a voice, a touch, complete surprise, two dot
Growing up, growing up,
Looking for a place to live
Growing up, growing up
Looking for a place to live
Growing up, growing up,
Looking for a place to live
My ghost likes to travel so far in the unknown
My ghost likes to travel so deep into your space
Three dot, a trinity, a way to map the universe,
Three dot
Four dot, is what will make a square, a bed to build on, its all there,
Four dot
My ghost likes to travel so far in the unknown
My ghost likes to travel so deep into your space
All the slow clouds pass us by
Make the empire state look high
As you take me in your sea-stained sweetness
It spills, it tingles and it stings
All the pleasure that it brings
til the door has let the outside inside here
Well on the floor theres a long wooden table
On the table theres an open book
On the page theres a detailed drawing
And on the drawing is the name I took
My ghost likes to travel so far in the unknown
My ghost likes to travel so deep into your space
Growing up, growing up,
Looking for a place to live
Growing up, growing up
Looking for a place to live
Growing up, growing up,
Looking for a place to live
Growing up, growing up,
Looking for a place to live
My ghost likes to travel
My ghost likes to travel
Moving inside of your space
My ghost likes to travel
My ghost likes to travel
Moving inside of your space
My ghost likes to travel
Moving inside
My ghost likes to travel
Moving inside of your space
My ghost likes to travel
Moving inside
My ghost likes to travel
Moving inside of your space
The breathing stops, I dont know when
In transition once again
Such a struggle getting through these changes
And it all seems so absurd
To be flying like a bird
When I do not feel Ive really landed here
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inside The Room....
we are only two
inside the room
later
we shall mislead
them into
thinking that
we are only
one
we are one now
inside the
room with closed
windows
and locked doors
and they
want to hear the
sound of
the bed
or the floor
we are one now
and you tell me
that
but then
i am not asleep
like the one
at the sky
hanging like a
lone star
still feeling the
vast emptiness
of this space
between us
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Emptiness Is Both An Illusion And An Irony
emptiness is always an illusion
which carries with it an irony.
when i look at it, as its content shows,
it has nothing
bare hands, opening fingers,
an empty transparent ball, it can
tell your future, it can dig your
past,
thinking that it is spacious, i went
inside it, pierce myself though it
only to find that that are so many
crowding elements in there and they
are choking me and you who is looking
outside it, thinks that nothing is happening
but then the struggle is horrible, quick
and even deadly, so many hang themselves in
empty air, and lose their lives, because
you cannot see the body of breathing,
when you learn to live with it however,
you become full, emptiness is its irony,
its antithesis, for how can you ever be full
if you have never known how to empty yourself?
the face of emptiness is a mist, and you touch
it, you will hold a forest, so many black birds,
myriad exotic orchids, so many blending sounds of
trees screaming, of creeks flowing of waterfalls
cascading that you can relate to the locks of
your hair and the hairs of your armpits,
inside it is too personal to be told, outside it
are so many denials with the faces of the people
that you have loved before, and then you decide
to stay at a distance, you are like a tree
dark as a shadow, counting the hours
when the sun finally fades away.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An easy night The hardest day
Across a lonely room
inside a crowded bar
an aging gigolo
strumming on his guitar
He sees a girl he likes
they leave, he has his way
That's how an easy night
turns out to be
the hardest day
The emptiness is churning
inside his broken heart
another happy ending
that never had a start
His bed is always empty
the lovers never stay
because an easy night
turns out to be
the hardest day
Empty Spaces
Once there were times love
When we could touch the air between
And out acroos this room
Wed just touch hands life would shine
With electric dreams.
No matter how many miles
Nothing hurt long-distance-hearts
And there was always something there
That space could never keep apart
But now I know inside that something is died
When were apart
All we have are
Empty spaces.
Its not like were building walls
Too hard to climb to make us blind
Its just so much numbing space
To hollow out the heart and mind
And I can hear echoes of ghosts of love
We left behind.
Ill always love april
We fell in love and we planted seeds
But now we walk through fallen trees
And leaves are crushed beneath
And I will always live in autumn
Now were agreed
All we have are
Empty spaces.
Ithought this was meant to be
Our love had an energy
But only as time evolved
And all of our strength dissolved
And well never feel the flame that burned so naked
Again.
I walk through kentish town
And all the rain rain pouring down
So many people here
But space like this Ive never found
And as I get back home and step inside
I realise all I have
All I have are
Empty spaces.
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Emptiness Again?
this emptiness moves upon its hands
on the carpeted floors of the hallways
upon an old catholic church
the pillars as you see are taller
than the rugby players
the windows are as wide as the shoulders
of african men
i stand on the threshold of this door
the sun gets in
and i must choose which way to be
outside is the wind full of uncertain origins
inside there is this light that fears dissolution
the moment the wide window closes upon itself
there are two windows inside myself
i open them soon and then i will fly away
inside there is too much feasting
outside there is only your silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Without The Windows
without the windows
where can the frames be?
without the space
where can air be and all those who thrive
because there is an emptiness between
arms and lips and bodies
without my emptiness
what is the use of you?
without this space between us
where can we be?
this nothingness makes us meet once again
let us love it, embrace it and make love to it
do we have a choice, my dear?
maybe you, on some uncertain terms, but
i have to be honest, i have none,
i have only you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Crowded
Crowded
Spirits walking on the roofs
no fear to fall or slide
no spirit of the dead
that did ever die
it's really crowded in the sky
and crowded in the streets
spouses and sprouts in all houses
crowded in my head am I
crowded in the underground
crowded in my ears
look what i have found;
my face crowded in tears.
Madrason 21 08-2009
poem by Madrason writer
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The Reasons
sometimes
tired of the buzzing of the word
he gives flesh to it
even wings
and so the bees
come
often
the words are empty like
a vacant room
or an abandoned
cottage in one of those
untamed forest
one can do
something as he does
after so many
experimentation
when words are just
wind or air or static space
he plants a tree
and leaves become
inhabitants
flowers arrive as buds
and butterflies
of variant colors
arrive as
colonies
must you remember
how the void is filled
with light and there was light
how the islands come
dotting the seas?
who likes a void, an empty space?
even God
dislikes it
we are here
because of that.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Windows
Windows open vistas for us
Windows - of hearts, of minds or of eyes
Windows - which might open outward
Or inward
They bring the light on the other end to this end.
Windows converse
They open the alphabetical locks of our lips
When night weaves nets of darkness on windows
Life-spans speak out in whispers from abysses of pain
Windows then perforce remain silent
Suffer days of tongue-tied laws
Nights of oppression
And epochs of tyranny
Windows are self same stories of dreams
Of centuries
Mute testimony of chasms
Court yards and ruined houses
Evidence of rusted eons rattling with exhaustion
in tyrant time's primordium continuity
Windows have the heart of a woman
They open their body's wings of each clime
With a little waft of wind
With fragrance, sunlight, rain or moon beams.
They blow away paper-light images
And waste away life in uncharted desires.
When butterflies fly in front of windows
Eyes glued to window panes become tearful
With noontide memories.
Evenings look forward to a wayfarer passing by
When they're covered with climbers
holding forth red and white flowers
They fill closed fists with the touch of fire-flies.
Windows often insist on being kept open
They're surprised to watch cloud, birds
And the blue sky's expanse
If they're kept shut
They're afraid of the life breath of
Walls and rooms getting strangulated.
They're afraid of dwellers forsaking their houses
They also feel life's desertion
They also feel despondent
Windows are human beings!
Poem by: Naseer Ahmed Nasir
Translated from the original Urdu into English by Satyapal Anand.
Copyrights (C) All rights reserved.
poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
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Medellia Of The Gray Skies
you're an empty promise, you're an easy chair
you're the gods forces struck down somewhere
you're a secret noticed, you're a mystery sky
you're a wish floated up to the night
medellia of my eyes, you're the emptiness of i
you're the reason that i write
and if you say you will. i will love you still
and if i could, i'd throw away this world
i'd dress you all in pearls
i'd give you what you wanted
you're all i notice in a crowded room
you're vacant motives unmoved, revealed
medellia of my eyes, you're the emptiness of i
you're the reason that i drive
and if you say you will. i will love you still
and if i just could be anything for you
just anyone at all
anything that mattered, washed out
you're the silly reasons in a goldfish laugh
you're the ageless season at rest at last
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Castle In A Tree
As the sweet rain smears the watercolor world
And the beams of sunshine are stirred into it
As the trees ripple and splash around me
And my knees melt into the ground
The enormous trunk looms before me
My castle in a tree
Roots run in muscular veins down the mammoth redwood
They are the perfect staircase for me to ascend
As my swollen tears float off to space
The castle doors open to greet me
And my face is bathed in lamplight from within
My castle in a tree
The walls breathe a sigh of welcome
Flames leap onto every white wax candle
I take off my sandals so that my ancient feet
Warm the polished wooden floor
The world, it shivers before me in
My castle in a tree
The leaves, they let the sunlight in
But guard me from the things that lurk
Just beyond the edge of the earth
So that he not a one can see me
And there is not a thing at all to remember in
My castle in a tree
At once it evaporates into the golden sky
My hands and legs enflame before me
All the world is drowned in blackness and
Leaves not a single silver bubble
This is the death, the murder of
My castle in a tree
poem by Christopher R. Kennedy
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Oh, The Guilt
She seems to think
She seems too weak
She takes a week to get over it
She likes the sea
She likes to see
She likes to think she has to alter it
She likes the sound
She likes the sand
She likes to stand, she can't afford to sit
She likes to be
She likes to be
She likes to be
She's into guilt
Go
She likes to think
She likes to drink
She seems too weak, she takes all the rent
She likes the time
She owns the time
She borrows time and has to self-invent
She seems too weak
She likes to see
She likes to think she has to alter it
She likes the sand
She likes to stand
She likes to sit
She likes to go
Go
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh Guilt
She seems to think
She seems too weak
She takes a week to get over it
She likes the sea
She likes to see
She likes to think she has all of it
She likes the sound
She likes the sand
She likes to stand, she cant afford to sit
She likes to be
Shes into guilt
Guilt
She likes to think
She likes to drink
She seems too weak, she takes all the rent
She likes the time
She owns the time
She borrows time to self-invent
She seems too weak
She likes to see
She likes to think she has all of it
She likes the sand
She likes to stand
She likes to sit
She likes to go
Go
She likes to be
She likes to go
Go
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh The Guilt (Outtake '93)
She seems to think
She seems too weak
She takes a week to get over it
She likes the sea
She likes to see
She likes to think she has all of it
She likes the sound
She likes the sand
She likes to stand, she cant afford to sit
She likes to be
Shes into guilt
Guilt
She likes to think
She likes to drink
She seems too weak, she takes all the rent
She likes the time
She owns the time
She borrows time to self-invent
She seems too weak
She likes to see
She likes to think she has all of it
She likes the sand
She likes to stand
She likes to sit
She likes to go
Go
She likes to be
She likes to go
Go
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Looking Upon A Child
looking upon a child i compress my years
like how i keep the lines confined inside my palms.
i stop for while following where the child goes.
his hands are buds, his feet as small as a saki cup.
his eyes as innocent as an oil lamp waking on a dark night.
his hair are soft and silky like a kitten fur
his sounds like the arrival of morning on the grass.
i hold his tiny hands and i am back to my senses.
he calls my name, but i am no longer there.
i am back to my room. It is as crowded as a storehouse
with papers and books and chairs and used clothes hanging
on the beams and walls. Some old figurines bathed with dusts.
Some dried spittle on the floor. Some unopened off-white pages
filled with age.
i wonder, despite this crowd of things and thoughts,
despite the fullness of the wind from the window
there is still the wide vacancy of space. Inside the heart longs.
Inside the sound howls. Inside something so faint shouts.
It is the sound of the child still calling my name.
It is looking for me and i am never complete.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Solace
As an only and lonely child
Now a beautiful girl
She is used to walking alone
Sitting at the edge of the woods
Where she drew her first masterpiece
Eyes closed
Absorbing her surroundings
Rays of sun warm on her pale face
A tall slender girl
Taking a deep breath
As the fresh air fills her lungs
Her soul
Memorising the pattern of the leaves
On the forest floor
Saplings twist and turn
Toward the nurturing light
Nature and its wide open spaces
Her Solace
Where she feels at peace
The roughness of the grass under her finger tips
To keep these forever
To have them fill the emptiness inside
No lumber jack will take what belongs to her
poem by Persian Khushi
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To Write To Think To Imagine To Love
i do not just write from a scratch of an idea from anywhere
like i get a pen and a piece of yellow paper, a blank sheet of
bondpaper, unperfumed like the love letter sent to sensuality,
it is not a matter of switching on the light of the lampshade
early dawn, rub my eyes, tap my middle finger on the table,
and breathe deeply and say,
i will write this
emptiness, with no one inside this circle of emptiness,
like an empty set,
zero, nothing inside some domains,
no,
writing starts with someone in mind
not really something lovely that excites my hormones
my lust and desire for another sexual fantasies
it woudl be too selfish
and ignoble,
writing starts with you
the concrete you, the once crying inside the room
on a wintry night, the one who needs the comfort of my
thoughts, the warmth of my concern
though distant
like the sun to another sun to another star to another star
of this galaxy to another galaxy,
i think about your worries
i reflect upon your quest to be alive again
i ponder upon your thirst
for love
something specific
something i can touch with the fingers of my mind
something that i can bite and check if this something is still
tasting the salty taste of the blood of life,
as i grow somehow
i shall think about the great spaces and places of the other worlds
beyond you and me
beyond us,
my mind gaping like an open mouth of a baby
opening to the freshness of this world
i will start with you
your sad eyes, it will start with the question
how can i ever wipe your tears
how can i ever make you smile again
and then the sadness of the world
its miseries
how can we ever heal it,
how can we ever make it green and alive again
from the very beginning
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Praying For Emptiness!
walking barefoot down the streets
of the holy city...
listening to the sounds,
the whimper, the cry, and the roar...
praying for emptiness....
the clock beats in rhythm
with the sidewalks and the walls.
the smell of burnt flesh
hangs in the air....
'Jesus Saves' painted on a fence....
oil rigs and chemical sprays,
fields filled with unmarked graves.
windows broken, doors sway, rusted hinges,
cars abandoned, vacant buildings,
dead bodies, eyes lost stare!
the spirits of the children
sing haunting and low...
words pierce like nails,
the birds hear and weep....
a hand gun, a needle, half pack of smokes....
nobody saves the night from the dawn!
praying for emptiness...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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When The Love Is Gone Winter Days Come!
What stays there
When the love ends
Nothing is the same
Oh how hurts this pain
Everywhere is dark,
Huge emptiness
Covered and has ebbed my soul
The sense of loneliness
Nothing can fill this rough emptiness
That has empired my soul inside
Though its summer time,
But inside me storms are howling by
Oh love you always bring the spring days
And when you are gone
Unending winter days come,
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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