I Only Wave My Hand To My Neighbor
i only wave my hand
to my neighbor
not wanting to go beyond
that intimacy or
that familiarity which i have always
thought of
(as others do too)
as a breeder of
contempt
& i do not want that
to happen,
sometimes, we choose the luxury of
our own privacy
the dignity of our own hideaway
inside the pages of a book
in the busy world
of our minds
we dance there
alone with our own hands
to the sounds of the patting of our
own feet.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Familiarity With A New Born Day
the cocks still crow this early morning
same footfalls passing and stamping on the road
the same trails from the house to the market to the church
back home and same sounds of the gate opening and closing
and same chill of the air from the sea to the mountain
over and over again on this familiarity from day one to day one hundred
till the thousandth
this familiarity that breeds contempt
it is trying to kill us all
but there is this thing inside that keeps burning
this fire this light
it tells us keep going for one day this boredom that tries to kill us
shall soon be a big day for you and for all of us
nirvana, heaven, rebirth, the dusts that stick on our feet
wanting to be alive again and be the flowers under the gentle rain
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hideaway
Ive been watching how you dance
Watching how you smile
Watching how you carry yourself around in a crowd
And watching what you say
Youve got something thats a secret to the average eye
Youve been saving something nobodys seen until now
In a hideaway
Im not trying to invade your privacy
There are things you have a right to hide
But its oh so cold
Standing on the outside
Will you take me to your secret hideaway
I wont tell nobody where Im going
Wont you tell me that were leaving right away
For the heart of your hideaway
Everybodys looking for a heaven on earth
A slice of paradise where nobody gets hurt
Someone to put the pieces back together again
When your daydreams die
Are you trying to get a message through the air to me?
Get me on your wavelength and tell me which way to go
To your hideaway
I cant stand another second in this tinker-toy world
Give me your direction
Dont make me wait anymore
It seems so far away
You can trust me with your secret fantasy
You will never know until youve tried
But its oh so cold
Standing on the outside
Ive been trying to get a message
Through the air to you
Get on my wavelength
And Ill tell you which way to go
To my hideaway
I will show you to my secret hideaway
We will tell nobody where were going
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hideaway
Pop/jones
I need to touch
A live unbeaten earth
So thats where Im going
I know a town in n.w. mexico
Where the sun is gold and life exists
Hideaway hideaway truly
Hideaway hideaway truly
My country got
Raped by big industry
Well just have to wing it
The concrete strips raw greed and king tv
They say so what I say so this
Hideaway hideaway truly
Hideaway hideaway truly
I can hear children voices playing in a yard
When I hear children voices my feelings arent so hard
Your honest face
Your quiet simple grace
You are one thing
I will not waste
Hideaway hideaway truly
Hideaway hideaway truly
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ramblings On A Sunday Morning
the white poodle keeps wagging
its tail
looking for my preferential attention
the motorcycles on the road
are noisy again
some children keep on tapping
their feet
imitating the dance of the
penguins
on the other hand the old woman
slowly ekes his tired feet
on the way to the church
the church bell keeps on its clanging
saying today is Sunday
i got no weekend
on a crisis of the pages of the books
some poems to justify
my contempt for rites and rituals and boring sermons
do not judge the cover of the book
until you dropp dead on the floor
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sinning To Many Is A Frightening Premise
A familiarity may breed contempt.
And that encompasses,
A host of influences.
Having a familiarity,
May also include...
Some experiences achieved.
But an ignorance that breeds contempt,
Says a lot about one's limitations.
And the ease by which,
One who is thoughtless 'and' mindless too...
Can be programmed to self destruct.
Based on the feeding of fear alone.
And many people do,
Self destruct within minds stuck.
And fear to those ignorant,
Is as familiar to them...
As is their lack of knowledge.
Which also to them is treated like a sin.
And sinning to many like this,
Is a frightening premise.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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(I Wish I Could) Hideaway
Howdy, friend, begging your pardon,
Is there something on your mind?
You've gone and sold all your belongings,
Is that something in your eye?
Well, I know you really never
Liked the way it all goes down;
Go on, Hideaway.
What's that you say?
We're all bound for the graveyard;
Oooh, I wish you well.
Think it's gonna rain,
Oh, what's the diff'rence,
Is there some way I can help?
'Cause you know, I'm gonna miss you
When you're gone, oh, Lord,
Wish I Could Hideaway
Hold on, give yourself a chance,
I can hear the leaving train.
All aboard! Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye!
Oooh, I wish you well.
See you soon, maybe tomorrow.
You can never tell;
"Cause you know, I'm gonna miss you
When you're gone, oh,
Wish I could Hideaway
Hideaway, hideaway, hideaway, hideaway.
Hideaway, hideaway,
Hideaway, hideaway
song performed by by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hideaway
Howdy, friend, beggin' your pardon,
Is there somethin' on your mind?
You've gone and sold all your belongings,
Is that something in your eye?
Well, i know you really never
Liked the way it all goes down;
Go on, hideaway.
What's that you say?
We're all bound for the graveyard;
Oooh, i wish you well.
Think it's gonna rain,
Oh, what's the diff'rence,
Is there some way i can help?
'cause you know, i'm gonna miss you
When you're gone, oh, lord,
Wish i could hideaway
Hold on, give yourself a chance,
I can hear the leavin' train.
All aboard! goodbye, goodbye, goodbye!
Oooh, i wish you well.
See you soon, maybe tomorrow.
You can never tell;
"cause you know, i'm gonna miss you
When you're gone, oh,
Wish i could hideaway
Hideaway, hideaway, hideaway, hideaway.
Hideaway, hideaway,
Hideaway, hideaway.
song performed by by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Intimacy
Afraid of intimacy.
A heart that has been stung,
Just once...
Becomes more suspicious,
And less naive...
When a stinging from someone loved,
Is untimely done.
Afraid of intimacy.
Very few are ready to commit to this.
Until assured some consistency,
Is readily given...
In the sharing of mutual needs.
Not many will leave themselves open.
Or acknowledge publicly...
A wish for a love uncompared,
Shared in secret privacy.
And one devoted and discreet.
Afraid of intimacy?
Not me!
Whether private in discreet...
Or publicly displayed on crowded streets.
I seek a one on one!
That would suit me perfectly.
But these days that kind of intimacy,
Seems to be antiquated history.
Afraid of intimacy.
Very few are ready to commit to this.
Until assured some consistency,
Is readily given...
In the sharing of mutual needs.
And that would be my philosophy,
Regarding how I feel about intimacy.
An act complete of 'shared' familiarity.
Not something done to walk away from and leave.
That's nothing more than satisfying a convenience.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cry Freedom
How can I turn away
Brother/sister go dancing
Through my head
Human as to human
The future is no place
To place your better days
Cry freedom, cry
From a crowd 10,000 wide
Hope laid upon hope
That this crowd will not subside
Let this flag burn to dust
And a new a fair design be raised
While we wait head in hands,
Hands in prayer
And fall into a dreamless sleep again
And we wave our hands
Hands and feet are all alike
But gold between divide us
Hands and feet are all alike
But fear between divide us
All slip away
There was a window and by it stood
A mirror in which
He could see himself
He thought of something
Something he had never had but
Hoped would come along
Cry freedom, cry
From deep inside
Where we are all confined
While we wave hands in fire
Wave our hands
Hands and feet are all alike
But gold between divide us
Hands and feet are all alike
But fear between divide us,
Slip away
In this room stood a little child
And in this room this little child
She would remain
Until someone might decide
To dance this little child
Across this hall
Into a cold, dark, space
Where she might never trace her
Way across this crooked mile
Across this crooked page
Cry freedom, cry
From deep inside where
We are all confined
Till we wave our hands
How can I turn away
Brother/sister go dancing
Through my head
Human as to human
The future is no place
To place your better days
Hands and feet are all alike but gold between divide us hands and feet are all alike but fear between divide us hands and feet are all alike hear what I say hear what I say oh, so be it
How can I turn away brother/sister go dancing through my head human as to human the future is no place to place your better days
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If ever a man and his wife, or a man and his mistress, who pass nights as well as days together, absolutely lay aside all good breeding, their intimacy will soon degenerate into a coarse familiarity, infallibly productive of contempt or disgust.
quote by Lord Chesterfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dance
Dance!
When you get the chance.
It's okay to pat your feet.
And sway as you move,
To the rhythmic beat.
Dance!
Enhance your prancing,
By letting loose.
Get up and shake that butt.
Give all those excuses up!
Wave your hands and feel free to do it.
Remove those restrictions with thoughts deluded.
What is there to prove if you don't or do?
Improve your health and state of mind too!
Tighten up those muscles in that sagging behind...
And,
Dance!
Treat it like a mental release!
Dance!
From your head down to your feet.
Dance!
Get rid of those excuses you keep.
Dance.
Dance.
Dance.
Dance.
Dance!
Treat it like a mental release!
Dance!
From your head down to your feet.
Dance!
Get rid of those excuses you keep.
And...
Dance.
Dance.
Dance.
Dance.
Dance!
Wave your hands and feel free to do it.
Remove those restrictions with thoughts deluded.
What is there to prove if you don't or do?
Improve your health and state of mind too!
Tighten up those muscles in that sagging behind...
And dance.
Treat it like a mental release!
Dance!
From your head down to your feet.
Dance!
Get rid of those excuses you keep.
And...
Dance.
Dance.
Dance.
Dance.
Dance!
Treat it like a mental release!
Dance.
Treat it like a mental release!
Dance.
Treat it like a mental release!
Dance.
Dance.
Dance.
And keep on dancing!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Back and Forth...Back and Forth!
Once it is determined,
A person has a 'special' rendition of life?
You know...
Someone 'we' may believe has a party going on...
In their heads.
And it is a private party?
It is sometimes better,
To pretend we hear the melody.
Especially if a desire is shown,
To communicate with us.
From wherever they may be 'inside'.
With all of the activity no one can hear outside.
But suspects 'something inside' occupies!
Although nothing may OR may not be there at all.
And we wish not to take chances and offend?
So we begin to keep our lips closed and nod our heads.
Hoping, eventually, a toleration overcomes us.
We begin to pat our feet.
And shake our heads slowly from side to side.
With eyes fixed we do this...
Wanting not to be noticed.
Slowly we begin...
Back and forth...back and forth.
Our heads we shake!
Observing and attempting to communicate.
Back and forth...back and forth
Our heads we shake!
Observing and attempting to communicate.
Keeping up with this sustained movement.
Patting our feet and biting on a lower lip.
Agreeing...
But not understanding,
What it is we agree with.
And we ask ourselves,
'Why am I putting myself through this? '
Back and forth...back and forth,
Our heads we shake!
Observing and attempting to communicate.
Keeping up with a sustained beat.
Patting our feet and biting on a lower lip.
And we ask ourselves,
'Why am I putting myself through this? '
And miraculously,
As if that Excedrin headache suddenly goes...
We find our minds in an accepted peace.
Numbed!
Yet peaceful.
And so proud we are,
We have kept our patience!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Amazing Songs
Open the book of love so crying over you,
Over you the volumes of work are written.
Offer music so beloved underneath the feet,
Dancers will follow for the book of love is near.
Musical sounds are like a melody of importance,
Enrapturing our minds as long as we live, forming sounds.
This book of sound carries new meaning superbly,
Amazement corners our mind with action and ammunition.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Thought I Couldnt Dance
Stand back, and give me room
And listen to that beat
I got the music in my soul
And the rhythm in my feet
When I hear the music,
You wont catch me standing still
And I wont miss a beat
I never have and I never will
And you thought I couldnt dance
And you thought I couldnt dance
I can dance to anything
That any band can play
Ive got old-fashioned values
But Im pretty up to date
And I know all the latest hits
On the radio
You dont have to join me
Stand back and watch my show
And you thought I couldnt dance
And you thought I couldnt dance
Thought I couldnt dance
Hey, watch me prance
Lets make romance
Thought I couldnt dance
You gotta take a chance
If youre gonna learn to dance
And you thought I couldnt dance
And you thought I couldnt dance
Theres a lot of closet dancers
Just dyin to come out
They dance alone inside their rooms
With the music way up loud
And I know you thought I couldnt dance
But I guess I sure fooled you
It just goes to show you never know
Whos wearing dancin shoes
And you thought I couldnt dance
Im full of surprises
And you thought I couldnt dance
Its too late now
I cant slow down...cant slow down
Oh, feel the heat
From these dancin feet... cant slow down
And you thought I couldnt dance
And you thought I couldnt dance
Repeat...
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just dance
Burning desire
Just dance
A need so intense
Words cannot describe
Just dance
Clenched muscles tighten
As I reach a new high
Just dance
Craving more
Wanting something far more than this
Just dance
Burning desire
Wanting something more
Craving this new sensation
Just dance
The music sweeps away all thought
The pounding rhythm controls my body
Just dance
Foreign tongues call out to me
Distant and strange even as they are familiar
Just dance
Nothing left to do
But given into these sensations
Just dance
No time left for thought
All that's left for me to do is
Just dance
poem by DiAnne Douglass
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A Passing Fancy
The bell was ringing in the distance, of my existence,
but I let it ring.
Couldn’t think of a thing to say, anyway,
certainly not today.
Or any day for that matter, I didn’t want to natter to anyone.
Too many calls, then love palls.
Familiarity breeds contempt, and I was not exempt.
I‘ll let the dust settle on this affair, it’s just the way it goes,
that’s what I chose to do. Finish it, I had to quit.
He’ll forget, and once again my heart will be ‘to let‘.
It was a passing fancy, a chancy romance, and one begins
to learn and discern.
The closing of a book full of empty pages,
I think I’ll take the phone off the hook,
until fate, brings the next available mate.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Mr Paddy's Capers.
Just when she thought
She'd found a place alone
To read her book, Mr Paddy
poked his nose between
Her and the open book, so
That pages are blanked out
By his huge head. Mr Paddy
Go off and annoy another,
She said, but he stood there
Determined to be where he
Was, between her and the
Brown covered book, held
Out in her small hands. Oh
Mr Paddy I cannot see the
Pages. Please go off and run
In the garden or in the kitchen
And steal a bone, she said. But
He wouldn't leave her alone,
He pushed his head against her
Young girl body, his damp nose
Dampening her wrist and her
White dress with blue sash, and
Dribble from his lips was wetting
The pages. Mr Paddy please let
Me be, I'm trying to read can't
You see? Mr Paddy's brown eyes
Scanned the pages, nothing there
But scribbled lines upon white paper,
And still he stood wet mouthed with
Big brown eyes and his silly old caper.
poem by Terry Collett
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Dance, Dance
Dance, Dance
To the music
Dance, Dance
To the beat
Dance, Dance
To the rhythm
Stomp your feet
Dance, Dance
Even though
Your tune they don't hear
Dance, Dance
For yourself
Have no fear
Dance, Dance
If you're alive
You're doing well
Dance, Dance
And grin
So the world can tell
You know you've got
A life to live
You're looking at the joy
This world can give
And you're dancing and laughing,
Won't be dragged down
You'd rather keep moving
Than stay with a frown
Dance, Dance
'Til it's played to the end
Dance, Dance
With a smile
My truly brave friend
poem by Atara Gedalowitz
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Catatonica
As our duet of love, a performance shown, is put upon display for vulgar eyes on the floor; the lights change with painted overlooks splashing their palette of watercolours over our moving bodies.
To the beat we dance, our tune a virgin, for the tune's beat that we dance to is no longer a mere dance away, our dance must fly with this tune in time with the tune's beat and in beat with our dance that we synced to this tune.
We tune our bodies in, tune them perfectly together with not just the beat and our dance, but with each other's minds and each other's hearts.
Within our thin, weak, skinny minds our thoughts think their own thoughts, deeper within our thought's tune and beat it dances inside a caved-in thought of the thinking tune's rhythmic beat timing itself to our dance.
Matching in the sky, our steps amaze, no tune can support us on its waves of notes and colons and no beat can out-beat us in it's own tragedy of percussion.
Our dance is a shaman of ritual love, packaged under the moon's eye for all to see and admire in its own tunefully-beating-dancing light.
We are going to dance forever, dance until there's no dance left in us, dance until our blood mixes with each others and our soul's diseases decay with one another's and we become the dance.
The tune we create in our minds is that of purity, no one will hear this tune except for us. Me and You.
The beats will never fade, no stamp stopped too sincerely, no stomp slacking too slowly.
We're going to dance, we're going to dance, we're going to dance. We're going to dance to our own beat, to our own tune, and to our own love.
poem by April Abigail
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Of Strangers And Love Huts....
when we were strangers
i think we were more interested with each other
too much familiarity you must know
breeds contempt and
we forget the first laughter inside the bus
when we were heading for that love hut
inside the love hut when the lights were turned off
we imagine ourselves singing those old love songs.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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