Illusion
perfection has always been an optical
illusion
a manipulation of the lens
of life's eyes
hoping to see much better
all the details
wanting to match what all those
invisible ones are creating
when we go back to the touch of our hands
the trembling is perfect
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Woman at the Crossroad Who Laughed
As I walked up the pavement, up the slight hill
to the traffic lights at the crossroads outside the station,
I saw her waiting to cross.
Or rather, I saw first, her laugh..
She held the hand of her son
as she exchanged words with a passing friend
and laughed..
and what I saw in her eyes, her whole face,
as she laughed, was that as she laughed -
(did she know this? How could I tell her, a stranger?
Lady, lady, at the crossroad of our lives,
I’m writing this poem for you now…)
as she laughed, while she laughed,
I saw that she was in touch, the whole of her,
with her deepest self – just that… all that…
and as I saw that self, which was
(Lady, are you reading this?)
the perfection of perfection, all that’s perfect…
it was as if – no, it was just so –
her self looked at me, and so
the perfect looked at the perfect;
herself and mine together laughed,
laughed at imperfection
and as the perfect looked, it saw perfection
spreading through my eyes from our shared self
so that her son was perfect; and her friend was perfect;
and all around us, every they and it were perfect..
(Lady, Lady, at the Cross’s foot,
was it like this for You?)
the light turned green. And we were free
to cross the road; and
free to live; and
free to laugh away illusion; and
free to be ourselves; forever,
in that time which is forever.
Lady, by my faith, this by my hand;
and with my life I do yet swear
upon my life, this to be true;
Lady, hear, in this my orison,
there are no sins
to be remembered.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Optical illusion
eyes see everything what the heart feels, for
only the eyes tell the meaning of the heart, nay
the soul reveals what the heart defines that
the window of the soul, is the illusion of the eyes
all, that is described of the eyes, would mean, so
real and true, yet! illusion, sway the truth that all
is just a beginning of everything, a deception that
leads us to nothing
as life believe on something, which touches human
experiences, and the struggle to win, every feeling to
see the meaning of what is real, the emotion fills
the heart, that defines the significance of life
eyes satisfy the inner value of the heart, but the
soul purified the incense of the immortality of eternity,
all that we have seen, create something that may
brings us to blindness of the gift of life
an illusion of optical lens that break us into a pieces of
broken heart, an array of souls into a limbo of nowhere
to live, a place of every nuts cross between fingers, a
darkest moment in our soul
leave no doubt in our hearts, open your soul, don't let
your chance to allure, what the eyes see, rather take the
best in you, feel it in your heart and let the soul surf the
excellent of what is meaningful in your life
move on..... never give up.... your heart can find it......
poem by Antonio Liao
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Optical Illusion
Now an optical illusion
is when your eyes
play tricks on you.
It shows you things
that are not really there.
The old saying of only
half believe what you see
has more truth in it
than you would believe,
as we don’t always see things
the way they really are.
Take an abstract painting,
take a closer look at it
and see how many things
your mind can make there.
Watch the clouds
roll by overhead
and look at the different shapes
that are created there.
The next time you look at something,
just be aware
it could well be
an optical illusion there.
21-22 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Optical Contusion
“I wanna divorce, get out you S.O.B.
Or I’ll give to you an optical contusion
Take the cat, the house you leave to me
You’re sordid affair was no optical illusion! ”
poem by Ray Lucero
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A Perfect of One
So if this kiss
I mean to kiss
happens and it
runs amiss
and you or I
suffer disappointment
will we forever eschew
the kissing
and its sweet intents
because we sought
that which was more perfect
than either of
us?
That I guess would be silly.
But how sweet is the love
held in our breasts
how wonderful is the kiss never made
how perfect the kiss before the touch of lips
gentle touch;
and the kiss is done;
it may or may not be the perfect gem
the before-kiss was.
Ah, life so often
interrupts my dreams
and forces me to love
me imperfectly
and you as well.
No, imperfect is not the word;
perhaps it is better seen
as the union of our two worlds
which by definition means me
and not me coming together
bringing home the point
that can perfection mate
when I am the only one in the portrait,
and a perfect of one;
which is not really
perfection at all;
or is that really
only the Perfection
of Alone?
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Perfection
Your cold and poor-spirited love
Was like running water upon my hands...
I did for your love, all that I could....
As an imperfect man that I am...
I offered you just possible things...
Warmth when you were cold,
And consolation when you felt hopeless...
You search for perfection
Which you will never find...
Perfect is the rain that falls
In the spring time...
Perfect are the flowers that grow
in a real garden of love....
Perfect is the smile in a child
Who plays with toys...
Perfection is a man
Who had it all
And now is getting tired and old...
Perfection are the memories
In your heart and mind...
Perfection is something
You shall never find
On me or any other man
Since perfection is just
In your dreams and imagination...
Now perfection becomes
Just like a story untold....
How sad it is
That my love you can no longer have
Neither my hands again hold...
o! Woman, wish you good luck
In your new try...
COPY WRITE©2009
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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I Have The Touch
The time I like is the rush hour, cos I like the rush
The pushing of the people - I like it all so much
Such a mass of motion - do not know where it goes
I move with the movement and ... I have the touch
Im waiting for ignition, Im looking for a spark
Any chance collision and I light up in the dark
There you stand before me, all that fur and all that hair
Oh, do I dare ... I have the touch
Wanting contact
Im wanting contact
Im wanting contact with you
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Give me the thing I understand
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Any social occasion, its hello, how do you do
All those introductions, I never miss my cue
So before a question, so before a doubt
My hand moves out and ... I have the touch
Wanting contact
Im wanting contact
Im wanting contact with you
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Give me the thing I understand
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Pull my chin, stroke my hair, scratch my nose, hug my knees
Try drink, food, cigarette, tension will not ease
I tap my fingers, fold my arms, breathe in deep, cross my legs
Shrug my shoulders, stretch my back - but nothing seems
To please
I need contact
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Have The Touch
The time I like is the rush hour, cos I like the rush
The pushing of the people, I like it all so much
Such a mass of motion, do not know where it goes
I move with the movement and ... I have the touch
Im waiting for ignition, Im looking for a spark
Any chance collision and I light up in the dark
There you stand before me, all that fur and all that hair
Oh, do I dare ... I have the touch
Only, only
Wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact with you
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Give me the thing I understand
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Shake hands, shake hands.
Any social occasion, hello, how do you do
All those introductions, I never miss my cue
So before a question, so before a doubt
My hand moves out and ... I have the touch
Only, only
Wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact with you
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Give me the thing I understand
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Shake those hands
Pull my chin, stroke my hair, scratch my nose, hug my knees
Try drink, food, cigarette, the tension will not ease
I tap my fingers, fold my arms, breathe in deep, cross my legs
Shrug my shoulders, stretch my back, but nothing seems to please
I need contact
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact
Tac-tacatac, tac-tacatac
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact
Tac-tacatac, tac-tacatac
I need contact
Ah, tac-tacatac
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact
I need contact.
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At The Middle Of Things
the starting point is always a rush
the sound of times is demanding
specifically
on wanting details to be perfect
there is that attention to color
what ought to be and protesting always
for what is not
the idealism of the mind and the
strictness of the hand
at the middle of the way
one feels tired
sometimes the wish to back out
settles on the skin
you peep at the end of the line
what is the use? you ask yourself
there is no use. there is no us.
you answer it yourself without even
the slightest wink in your eyes
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Six Point Seven by Lee Crowell
Six point seven billion illusionists today on this globe
Seeking consensus of the senses,
Declaring the colors reflected by the eye to the brain
Are actually on the canvas... and the illusion of art continues:
Sifting vibrations through ear canals,
Mimicking back out the nice ones -
To deliver a wondrous sound and the illusion of music resonates.
Labeling objects by creating words,
Creating categories by building language
And the illusion of literature swirls in the air,
While the illusion of science arranges the pieces on the ground.
Six point seven... growing... no major train wreck in sight...
Such is the consensus of the illusory senses tonight...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Ability of men and women
Woman is expert in concrete thinking
And man, in abstract thinking.
She does with perfection and he, with
heaviness.
Her hands are nimble and his, massive.
That is why they form a perfect match.
02.05.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Perfect Girl
perfect girl, perfect smile,
perfect girl, stay for a while.
you hold my heart with your perfect touch,
perfect girl, i love u so much.
This perfect girl has amazing brown eyes.
Full of life attitude,
it's always hard for the goodbyes.
This perfect girl has been through helll and back
but even under hard times
she neva seems 2 crack
she's my perfect lovee :)
she the stars, the moon, nd thee whole sunlight
and before 2day ends,
i hope i can be hur perfect boy tonight
poem by Chris Soares
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Secretly
Secretly
I'm wanting you
And I'm hoping you want me too
I smell your scent across the room
And I can't wait to get next to you
It's like I'm lost
I don't know
But this feeling that I have about you
Will you ever know
Secretly
I'm wanting you
And I'm hoping you want me too
I smell your scent across the room
And I can't wait to get next to you
Whatever I see (when I look at you across the room)
Whatever I hear (I wonder if he loves me too)
Whatever I do (I just think about you for hours)
Oh baby
And it's got me thinking of you
Secretly
I'm wanting you
And I'm hoping you want me too
I smell your scent across the room
And I can't wait to get next to you
Whenever you speak
Whenever you
Oooh
Whenever you breath
Baby
Let me touch you
Please
Secretly
I'm wanting you
And I'm hoping you want me too
I smell your scent across the room
And I can't wait to get next to you
Secretly
I'm wanting you
And I'm hoping you want me too
I smell your scent across the room
And I can't wait to get next to you
It smells so good
I just wanna ... kiss you
I wanna ... lay with you
I don't know how to tell you
But secretly
I want you
I just wanna get next to you
song performed by by Jennifer Lopez from J. Lo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When You Touch My Body
when you touch my body with your trembling hands tonight
i choose to simply close my eyes
too, i am trembling to this passion
this desire i have been waiting
all these years, when we are nothing but
passing glimpses, until one day,
i tell you my name, i touch your lips i caress your hair
and you are awakened
by this kind of love
this total undressing this total nudity
even in tears and untold quiver
in this room, you are with me
there will be silence anticipating
our joys our confessions our opening up
hands to hands and soul to soul
we will be losing ourselves
tonight i am revealing all my skins and longings
i am naked
i am yours.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wanting
She can't help it
The wanting of him
A simple glimpse
Across a crowd
She hides her smile
As her imagination
Goes
Into
Overdrive
Goosebumps rise
Along her flesh
Somewhere deep
A quickening begins
Her heartbeat accelerates
Her blood warms and
Begins to pulsate
As she
Holds on
Always
Yearning
Wondering
If he kissed her
Would she moan
As his mouth consumed her
Enslaved her
As his hands touched her
Caressed her flesh
His nearness makes it difficult to breathe
All of her wishes
To melt into him
Reach out and
Touch
A glimpse of her
Across a room
Leaves
Him
Wanting
Wanting to
Reach out and touch
To hold her face in his hands
Brush the tip of his thumb
Across her soft lips
Caress her skin
Let his hand travel
Travel
Across her throat
Feel her pulse
As it glides
To the back of her head
Grab a fist full of raven hair
Tilt her head back
Look into her languid eyes
Her parted lips
And trace kisses along her flesh
As she forgets
How to breathe
Their wanting of each other
Is hidden well
In the ease and flow
Of a crowded room
Maybe neither knowing
Neither certain
Both aware of the other
Both
Wanting.
poem by Rabia Minhas
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The Primordial One
The Primordial One is immanent, while He’s never transcendent
And this existent world, at the beginning, was only His vision.
The Lord has Being to create his vision-world without lightweight
For this real world of Becoming, with His meticulous precision.
At the beginning, we were His imagination; we were a reason for creation
And, only for being with Him, He made us, in time, to become so real.
Tower of Babel wasn’t an illusion, when people suffered tongues confusion,
God isn’t an illusion in our perfection, when His plans He wants to reveal.
We are in our Apollinian illusion, when we think that God means confusion
And our own perfectionism we try to reach in the mean time.
But in the reality of our Apollinian confusion, God is no longer an illusion.
In this ache of Being and in this agony of Becoming, He’s sublime.
To reach our perfection we sing a hymn, we need to be with Him,
Because when we are not with Him, we are in the illusion of Being.
Without transmogrifying us, to transfigure Him, sometimes, we have a whim,
Because we need to understand our illusory own perfection in wellbeing.
We try to put ourselves in His place, in order to understand His grace
We need the Dionysian illusion of Being to experience the world we know.
In both Dionysian and Apolllinian illusions, we jump to our conclusions.
We are illusory Primordial Beings creating our Apollinian powerful show.
I am this person staring back from His mirror at me, I want existent to be.
I want to identify this image with myself and to realize who I really am.
Because of my sins I lost my serenity, I have a sense of my mistaken identity.
I was His dream, I am His child and for saving me He sent me His lamb.
Everyone is dreaming, but it seems that no one really believes in dreams.
One by one we need to wake up out of our own illusions of self.
The world of minds is the God's mental projection, it has interconnection.
Without this major pervasive reality, the world is not existent in itself.
The sufferings of people can be for some an illusory space, having no grace,
And they live in their own world of solely material realities without restricts.
Others believe in the world, which is non-physical and it's essentially spiritual,
They need a mental, spiritual and moral dimension to life, without conflicts.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Lens Of Life
We look at life through different angles
trying always to get the best shot.
Some times the camera lens is dirty
and a fuzzy picture is all you get.
We clean the lens and take another shot,
hoping for a better picture,
one without regret.
7 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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For Tony
you're home tony,
you're just right there
in the home of your heart
cool, be cool, tony boy
you're just right there
in your own home
feel the love
and kiss the person
next to you
close your eyes
and imagine a very
peaceful and
harmonious universe
stars with hands
holding each other
and dancing in
limitless space
of eternity
the moon and sun
on a perfect agreement
to make nights and
days of equal lengths
the rivers that flow
ending right there
in the deep blue sea
it is all perfect tony,
everything is just as perfect
as we wish and see
them all today
this moment of joy
and bliss this moment
of perfection
this moment when
our hearts fly like
birds towards
the island abundant
of our respective
& reserved
destinies
close your eyes tony
and imagine what perfection is
it is the shaking of the hands
of the mundane and the divine
the meeting of the minds
of God and Man
listen well tony to the sound
of peace and harmony
take note of every feeling
of stability
and then write
the next poem that comes
cascading like a waterfall
inside your mind
and then from where i am seated
i will read
the poem of your life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Passing Of A Heart
O touch me with your hands--
For pity's sake!
My brow throbs ever on with such an ache
As only your cool touch may take away;
And so, I pray
You, touch me with your hands!
Touch--touch me with your hands.--
Smooth back the hair
You once caressed, and kissed, and called so fair
That I did dream its gold would wear alway,
And lo, to-day--
O touch me with your hands!
Just touch me with your hands,
And let them press
My weary eyelids with the old caress,
And lull me till I sleep. Then go your way,
That Death may say:
He touched her with his hands.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Manipulation Got You Tripping
Lead me on then, tell me whatever you want me to know, yeah just tell it to me, I'll will absorb it, I'm so dumb I will remember it
Manipulation got you tripping
Oh for real, we going to do that and that and go here and there and be together forever
Manipulation got you tripping
Did all this and that, thought I was doing all the right things to make things straight for us Manipulation got you tripping
Dang for real, oh yeah, all this time this was only gonna lead to this and me feeling sick Manipulation got you tripping
Oh that was cold, got me here while you over there talking to him
Manipulation got you tripping
Alright, it is what it is then, I guess I ain't wanted here no more
Manipulation got you tripping Well yo gat damn, time to be the Nupe I am and wake up my fans
Manipulation got you slipping, cause now I'm dipping
poem by Coker George
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