It Is 4: 45 In The Afternoon
we know what to do.
we stop this stuff
we all go back to our beginnings
those usual nights
and those usual tomorrow mornings
ask if we make a difference.
my answer: No.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Missionary Position
the usual stuff really
man on top of woman
her legs entwined
to his muscled back
his feet rooted in bed
his pelvis pasted on hers
her arms clutching the
blanket and the side
of the bed
she is so helpless
as he throbs all his
strength to her
the usual stuff that
we do when no one
cares to watch
because it is something
so lovely and so
private
and then we sleep
so soundly
we do not notice
another day
poem by Antonio Liao
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Indirectly...
i could have told you
i loved the way how Stevie Wonder
sang that song... i just called to say
i love you.
i care much for you
the usual nights that do not give me sleep
summer times have become
lonelier
i sent the message
and got the usual response
'Stop it! I don't want to be hurt again! '
i'm so sorry.
Thanks.
Perhaps i shall call again sometime
after another
25 years?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Not So Usual
This is the most unusual story, of a most unusual girl
she's the paint in my picture, of a most unusual world
she can crawl out the frame while shes hanging on the wall
and shes calling my name
shes not so usual, wo
shes most unusual
shes not so usual
shes so unusual
shes mostly a ghost, the way she watches over me
she complains when I smoke, but then you do the same to me
shes controlling my brain activity, knowing when i go to sleep
she'll catch you when I'm falling hard
shes so unusual
shes not so usual
shes not so usual
shes so unusual
shes not so hooked on the drugs like I thought that she was
and never sucking on the lime, and hardly sipping on the wine
and dispite of her bipolar rollercoastering
I think I can trust, she'll keep me singing differently
and its fine cause shes with me now, most all of the time
trying to saving my life, thinking none of her own
and always kissing me goodnight when i just need to be alone
shes so sweet, so discrete, shes exactly what I need
not even make believe
shes not so usual
so unusual
shes not so usual
so unusual
not so usual, and not to practical either
but shes not so mystical, but not to magical either
but shes not so outta control, and not so used to the flow
shes not so usual
nah, shes a natural
ohhh, shes not so usual
shes most unusual
shes so unusual
shes so unusual
shes gonna use me ohhh
shes not so u...
shes not so u...
not so u...
not so....
song performed by by Jason Mraz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Unusual (Live @ Java Joes - 06.27.02)
This is the most unusual story, of a most unusual girl
she stood painting my picture, of a most unusual world
she can crawl out of frame while shes hanging on the wall
and shes calling my name
shes not so usual
shes most unusual
shes not so usual
shes so unusual
shes mostly a ghost, the way she watches over me
she complains when i smoke, but then you do the same to me
shes controlling my brain activity, knowing when i go to sleep
she'll catch you when I'm falling hard
shes so unusual
shes not so usual
shes not so usual
shes so unusual
shes not so hooked on the drugs like i thought she was
and never sucking on the lime, and hardly sipping on the wine
and dispite of her biopolar rollercoastering
i think i can try, she'll keep me singing differently
and its fine cause shes with me now, most all of the time
trying to saving the light, thinking not of her own
and always kissing me goodnight when i just need to be alone
shes so sweet, so discrete, shes exactly what i need
not even make believe
shes not so usual
so unusual
shes not so usual
so unusual
not so usual, and not to practical either
but shes not so mystical, but not to magical either
but shes not so outta control, and not so used to the flow
shes not so usual
nah, shes a natural
ohhh, shes not so usual
shes most unusual
shes so unusual
shes so unusual
shes gonna use me ohhh
shes not so u...
shes not so u...
not so u...
not so....
song performed by by Jason Mraz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As Usual
The sun was shining…
The breeze was blowing
As usual
The day was dawning
The dusk was falling…
As usual
The people were brisking
The people were frisking
As usual
You died.
My heart was grieving.
It was Durga Puja.
They were celebrating
As usual
(Dedicated to Steve Jobs. I miss him…)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Into Another Reality
after the usual lengthy
lecture in the university
the usual hour after
something like 8: 45
on such usual evenings
i take the usual drive
from the city to my
urban homesomething like
fifteen kilometers alone
but this
time it will be different
i'll have the loud sounds
of some Queen songs on the DVD
and I'll join singing with them like
I'm going slightly mad
I was born to love you &
I wanna break free
and to All Fat Bottomed Girls
this is your Good Old-fashioned Lover Boy
Let's Get Down Make Love
Headlong
Heaven to Everyone
In the Lap of the Gods...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Morning Greeting
good morning, my friend
hope you're fine like the smooth morning rays of the sun
on soft hands caressing the shiny brown skin of my face
did you sleep well last night? let me ask if you have dreams
that make waking up a regretful event
i am out now for my usual walk to see the usual rising of the sun
on the golden ricefields on the road leading to a group of nipa huts
i am asking myself today: is there meaning to this usualness
this routine that comes to us without any break?
is there something new to the sun that we always expect to shine?
is there a twist to the usual chirps of birds, the usual white color of their wings? is there something better to do than walk and think the usual
thoughts of how to make a living and be the fit person to survive
this war on boredome
this struggle for meaning
this monotonous routine of this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that
there is no stuttering here, nothing symptomatic of sickness
and even death, there is this boredom again that will make us
not sleep the nights
and make us uneasy and restless and asking some more
what is this life? what is it giving me?
what am i giving it? how long?
just asking, i am returning to the house from this short walk
there is no music in my ears
more questions popping
i will just take tea
i need really to pee.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Not Here With Us But Somewhere Else
it will be different
it is not the usual cup of tea
not the ordinary
day on the platter of the
sea
not the usual fish that you
catch
and serve on the table
on the usual olive oil
and baked
procedure
you see this is experimental
and people's ears need
not listen
nothing to tear nothing to fear
there is nothing that
you detached yourself from
yourself or
another
cool, keep going, do not stay,
there are still
unexplored islands
violet sands, red seas
buried treasures
somewhere else, yes always somewhere else
it is not here
with us, it is always somewhere else
that on nights
when we are dying and too lonely
we know
this is not our place, but somewhere else
a note from a violin string
a leaf blown by the wind
somewhere else, yes somewhere else.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fighting With Usual Ones
Usual cravings, as usual,
Come to me in plural.
For not enough defense,
For over offensive bad,
Shall I lose this pretty math?
Nothing I hate more than usual ones.
Like November that needs only December
To end one year,
Shall I give up my intense desire?
Together with usual theory,
To get the pass-mark solitary,
Should I sit this exam blowzy?
If there were a right map of life,
I would avoid those with unusual might.
But now, by riding a horse neither male nor female,
Shall I keep acting as a character stray?
I don't wanna be a king in usual custom paragon.
I don't wanna ascend already used throne.
If your heart is not new,
If your love is blue,
You will fail my interview.
Let my loner life live along
Instead of being in usual crowd.
My heart wishes unusual heartbeat sound.
poem by Aung Si Myanmar
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If Tomorrow Doesn’t Come, Please Remember
If tomorrow doesn’t come
Please forget all the fights
But please remember my face.
If tomorrow doesn’t come
Please forget the name calling
But please remember the smiles.
If tomorrow doesn’t come
Please forget the down times
But please remember our laughter together.
If tomorrow doesn’t come
Please forget the lonely nights crying
But please remember the many hugs after those nights.
If tomorrow doesn’t come
Please forget the yelling
But please remember the good talks after.
If tomorrow doesn’t come
Please remember how much I care about you
Even though I don’t show it.
Please remember how much of an impact you have on my life.
Even though I don’t help you to acknowledge it.
Please remember how much I love you
Even though we fight more than we talk to each other.
Please remember that you are apart of what I am today
Even though I don’t ever say anything.
Please remember that I always care about you
Even though I am always in your business or your life too much than usual.
Please remember to smile if tomorrow doesn’t come
Please remember that I tried to make something out of your life and mine too.
Please remember my laughter
Please remember that I think of you everyday
Even though I don’t make contact with you.
So if tomorrow never comes
Please remember the good times more than the bad
Please remember to make the best of life and never be too sad.
poem by Kimberly Santistevan
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Nothing's Changed...
this afternoon i was driving my car
back home. And i was thinking something
that may change my life
totally.
i wish i can tell you since you are part of the
picture. Your face is a painting of so many words.
Life with you has been tinted. The colors simply
disappear at the first sigh of the coming of my night.
sometimes, i stop the car along the shore
and there is little hut there where i can rest and sit for a moment.
as usual it is the sea that keeps on talking.
there are so many reasons, so many
why i do not have to tell you about this.
and then i drive my car back home and meet you.
another beginning
of another life, and as usual the conclusion is that
nothing must be changed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Another Set of Lovers Under The Moon
the usual things we did
surely we will miss but we cannot
settle for less
and you know it and so we create and
recreate other usual moments
something new to the hold
of our hands
evenings that tempt the stars
mornings that
entice the thighs
we cannot sip coffee together
just us and
us
we will miss the unknown too
those that we like to
know
there is this pain in
anticipation
this letting go of the
old and
embracing the new
questions that
never quench our
quest for answers
and so
if you have decided to leave me
i may not be bothered at
all
for in another junction
another shadow is waiting
and the moon
spreads its golden mantle
for us
to be lunatics
again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Happy New Year 2011
Let it not be another new year
With the same usual celebrations
With the same usual great wishes
With the same usual demonstrations
Of happiness and gay
Instead of the New Year showering you joy
You shower it
With a vouch to
Keep yourself happy
Keep yourself healthy
Keep yourself enthusiastic
Keep yourself at peace
Keep yourself cheerful
Keep yourself loveable
Keep yourself simple and least complicated
Keep yourself non-complaining
Keep yourself ever in a ‘growth’ path
And
Keep yourself all that
Which will pave way
For a really lived-life
For years and decades ahead
With you at the centre
And the entire universe around you
Watching with wonder and
Cheering you
At each of your earnest effort
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Open Pages
there is no use hiding
the book of my life
i leave all the pages open
for you to read
and perhaps learn
from who i am and
what i have become
from those usual regrets
that always come late
as usual....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Where are you going little girl?
the wooden boat
on one end the little girl with her paddle
a little longer than her frail body
then her mother and her younger sister
under a yellow umbrella against the sun
i can feel her firm tiny hands that hold the paddle
stab the river and stir to make this murkiness
she holds it on clear directions she struggles to push
the water to move the boat
as the sun scorches her brown skin
shiny and thin and yet so unfrightened
i am asking the philosophical question
to you elvi where are they going?
and you where are you going too?
do not answer me with the name of a place
it is the usual answer, tell me more about what i do not know
the one that stirs the river that one that pushes the boat
the one that must make the mother fold her umbrella
the one that must make the little girl stop her paddling
the answer that exhausts all options
the one that must make us shift our paradigms
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Get Used To All These Somehow
get used to all these somehow
these that i cannot understand
always the questions in my mind
like open mouths
longing for a kiss
empty and cold,
there are answers to choose
got nothing
i move in an open field
gasping for air
like a fish on the floor
shattered glasses and water
seeping on the
wooden floor
too dry for me but I'll get used to
all these
tomorrow the usual sun shines
if you ask me
i have no answers i will pretend
that this is the usual day
nothing extraordinary
like the passing of the wind
i shall not be carried away
but i have to rearrange my hair
gets crumpled
and i do not really like it
being seen by you and you ask
if it's me
i am. it was me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Taking A Bath
last night stains
of pretensions now gone
soap and water
on an early morning bath
less the whistle
just the pressure and then
anew you come out
of the bathroom
the usual day the usual
activity: always hoping
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tomorrow Always Comes
tomorrow always comes.
the sun is confident. always tomorrow
comes with all the usual baggages.
bringing a back pack of your past,
some bags of your future still
bound with the strings of its secrets.
tomorrow always comes. do not deny this
fact, that it always comes with the
people you love and so with all the
people you hurt, and who in turn hurt
you in some ways. It comes with hammers
and nails and ladders and chairs.
Tomorrow always comes and so
do not just stand there and look dumb
and stare and think that today is the
end of your world. The moon knows.
And so are the stars that tomorrow
always comes with baggages.
Help yourself. Face them. Embrace
the day. Love the people who love you.
Love too those that do not love you.
Love them. Tomorrow always comes and
who knows that like caterpillars tomorrow
they become these beautiful butterflies
that now seek the comfort of your loving hands.
Believe me. Tomorrow always comes.
Have hope. Relax. And be confident.
Like the sun, the river, the sea. They
all know that tomorrow always comes.
Be happy then. Promise you. Tomorrow comes.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Something To My Dear Friend (Triolet)
Let your eyes be as usual wild
It only reflects honesty
Do not turn your voice more mild
Let your eyes be as usual wild
It just proves you are still a child
Once in a while little bit naughty
Let your eyes be as usual wild
It only reflects honesty
poem by Jyoti Sunit Chaudhary
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When I slept it was literally in the midst of an arsenal. If I heard dogs bark more fiercely than usual, or the feet of horses in a greater volume of sound than usual, I stood to arms.
quote by Frank James
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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