Last Night Time Passed So Quickly
last night
time passed so quickly
i did not even
notice that
the people in the house
where i live
had already taken dinner
washed their plates
kept them back
in the cabinet
and watched
soap opera
and then closed
the doors and windows
and slept
i only noticed the
change when
there was that
silence
that shouted
i have
been unfair
and too
insensitive
when poetry
seems to
be my whole
life when
nothing counts
anymore
except my
choice of
words
and living with
them
all alone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
People Who Read People Magazin
(Kinky Friedman)
Well, I'm here to say I got turned away from Studio 54
Back to neon lights and lonely nights and saw-dust on the floor
And if she ever loved me, she don't love me anymore,
And if anyone should ask me, here's who I'm singing for:
For the people who read People Magazine,
For the soap opera lovers, for the home-town bowling team,
For everybody everywhere who's ever lost a dream,
For the people who read people who read People Magazine.
Now if you're too New York for Texas, too Texas for L.A.
You been chasing trends like rainbow ends but you're always just a song away
And if the White House wouldn't have ya, play in every little honky-tonk and bar
The good Lord made the Heavens, ah but He never made a star.
No, its the people who read People Magazine,
It's the soap opera lovers, its the home-town bowling team,
It's everybody everywhere who's ever lost a dream,
For the people who read people who read People Magazine.
And to tell you the truth this telephone booth gets lonesome in the rain,
But son, I'm 21 in Nashville and I'm 43 in Maine.
And when your mama gets home, would you tell her I phoned, it'd take a life-time to explain
That I'm a country-picker with a bumper-sticker that says: ?God Bless John Wayne?.
And bless the people who read People Magazine,
Bless the soap opera lovers, bless the home-town bowling team,
Bless everybody everywhere who's ever lost a dream,
For the people who read people who read People Magazine.
Bless the people who read people who read People Magazine.
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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People Who Read People Magazine
(kinky friedman)
Well, Im here to say I got turned away from studio 54
Back to neon lights and lonely nights and saw-dust on the floor
And if she ever loved me, she dont love me anymore,
And if anyone should ask me, heres who Im singing for:
For the people who read people magazine,
For the soap opera lovers, for the home-town bowling team,
For everybody everywhere whos ever lost a dream,
For the people who read people who read people magazine.
Now if youre too new york for texas, too texas for l.a.
You been chasing trends like rainbow ends but youre always just a song away
And if the white house wouldnt have ya, play in every little honky-tonk and bar
The good lord made the heavens, ah but he never made a star.
No, its the people who read people magazine,
Its the soap opera lovers, its the home-town bowling team,
Its everybody everywhere whos ever lost a dream,
For the people who read people who read people magazine.
And to tell you the truth this telephone booth gets lonesome in the rain,
But son, Im 21 in nashville and Im 43 in maine.
And when your mama gets home, would you tell her I phoned, itd take a life-time to explain
That Im a country-picker with a bumper-sticker that says: god bless john wayne.
And bless the people who read people magazine,
Bless the soap opera lovers, bless the home-town bowling team,
Bless everybody everywhere whos ever lost a dream,
For the people who read people who read people magazine.
Bless the people who read people who read people magazine.
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hidden Drive
there's a dirty house that's falling apart
some want to fix it but they don't know where to start
there's cobwebs and cracks in the walls
this is where rain's relief dares not to fall
no one really cares to help this place
they just look at the face
this old house is kept inside
with a disguising shell to hide
something i noticed as i passed by
at the house where hope will die
the windows were clean and new
though everywhere else the weeds grew
the windows had such an allure
i couldn't take it anymore
i gazed at the windows in awe
then through them i saw
the messy, run-down house inside
where beauty died
then i realized
something about eyes
eyes are the windows
clean and lovely for show
but behind them is the soul
sometimes your eyes will fool
the beauty and shine will not last
for one day, someone will see past.
poem by Alex Manson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Change Me?
when you arrive here
you change the paint of the house
you like it pastel blue on the door
white on the walls
and green on the windows
you change the landscape
except of the wanton garden
you opt for a manicured lawn
and some of my trees
and shrubs have to be
cut down,
some flowers have to go
you bring in
the violets, and lavenders
and white champacas
you like a scent from around
you
specially during the night
when we simply sit
on the lawn
now you begin to demand
some changes from me
the time when i wake
up or sleep
you like soap i like sports
you want me to enjoy
love stories
the color of my socks
my tie my polo shirts
i give in for a while
but there is an end to all these
attempts to change me
you cannot,
i am me before the landscape
before the paints of the house
i am me before the lawns and flowers and socks
and shirts and soap
i am already me before you arrive
to my house
to my life
you cannot change me
because
i love who i am what i am and i know perfectly just what i want to make
myself
even without you,
make some more attempts to change me
and i will ask you to leave at once
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Since I've Come To My Senses
Giving up on my life,
To not sleep peacefully at night.
With a pacing of the floor...
Back and forth and uptight.
Not anymore.
Since I've come to my senses,
Open are those doors I've closed before.
Giving up on my dreams,
To witness them flow downstream...
Panicked.
Not anymore.
Since I've come to my senses,
Down came those fences...
And defenses raised.
Doing things for others to see them pleased,
With approval unshown...
They appreciated me.
Not anymore.
Since I've come to my senses.
I will not be accused,
For something done I did do.
To then feel used and psychologically abused...
With an inflicting of my own torment?
No!
Not anymore...
Since I've come to my senses.
Giving up on my life to feel accepted,
As a focused objective to have others reject...
No.
Not anymore.
I've closed those doors.
There are so many others I had to learn to open,
With a coming to my senses.
Before I prevented so much I now can see.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Soap opera wouldn't be my first choice, but at this point in my life, I would consider a soap. It would allow me to act and still do other things with my life.
To Be Honest With You
the christmas songs are played
and i do not remember anything anymore
these songs come and go and my years are shorter.
last year
is just like today.
there is no meaning anymore.
and i am not giving any chunk of me anymore.
i am sealed. i am a house with doors and windows closed.
i am sleeping inside it.
and it will be years before i wake up.
don't worry. i will not tell them that you are a
part of me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Manifestations
she comes
late tonight
and tells you
she is very tired
that she was
with her aunt
and in the
restaurant
where
they ate
early dinner
where they
drank
light beer and
smoked
some marlboro
and they were
laughing
on some jokes
that i told you
the other day
about married
people who
do not make
do
anymore as
often as they
want to
on the
early part of
their marriage
the honeymoon
that you
do not want
to remember
anymore
and then she
kissed you
goodnight
on your cheek
slightly and she
went straight
to your
bedroom
turned the air
condition
on and then
wrapped herself
with thick
wool blanket
and closed her
eyes and
slept
with all the
lights
on
she curled
like a puppy
that
we bought
yesterday
you guess
she must
be very
lonely in this
kind of
misery
the time
is 9: 30 p.m.
it is
saturday
and it is
raining
and there
is no one
in the house
anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Time of My Life
Come back to those days
of tomorrowland
I had the time of my life
When you haunted me through
You took over my soul
I had the time of my life
With you
I got that feeling
Nothing can stop us now
Fighting for my life,
I had the time of my life
Cause I was with you
Wish you had noticed
before the dragons swarmed in
Separating us
forever and ever
The window closed, I'm haunted
By you, by the days of September
When I was haunted by a life
that no one remembers
A life, a dream, a memory
I lay and think at night
A life, a scream, a heart
that no one remembers
He died with me, the window
Closed on everything we had
And I wouldn't share
You have a way of forgetting
everything we had
All those people, happy people
without a care in the world
I had the time of my life
Screaming for your life
Buried in the sand that day,
I can't go back, I had the best time
With you
The window closed, I'm haunted
I Live My Way
Harris, Bayley, Gers)
Sometimes when I feel the anger
Sometimes when I'm all alone
Sometimes when I feel surrounded
Like all the doors are closed
I feel like I've been a prisoner
I feel like I've been a tool
Let people try to judge me
When they're not in my shoes
*I've lived on my knees
Trying to please
It's time to change
Some people are only happy
When they can watch you fail
And to them every day is
Another coffin nail
I think that I've found the answer
I think that at last I know
We've only got one lifetime
I'll make my life my own
*Repeat
To live my own way
I live my way
Living for today
Don't care what they say
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Behind Closed Doors
Written by new order
There is a secret place
Underneath a tree
Where if you go and haste
You will find a key
The key will open doors
And you will look inside
The things that you will see
Will open up your eyes
At any given time
On every other street
The city comes to life
Though everyones asleep
A man beats up his wife
He doesnt wanna keep
Behind closed doors
Theyre in retreat
I dont know what makes me stay
The city life just aint the same
Theres something wrong with kids today
I blame the parents anyway
Theres no hope
No one to trust
I cant cope
Its obvious
Please dont take my drugs away
Im gonna give them up someday
There is a place somewhere
That I could call a home
Id live without a care
Id never be alone
One day I will get there
I feel it in my bones
I check upon the scores
I listen to the coors
Behind closed doors
Behind closed doors
Behind closed doors
Behind closed doors
They still want more
Behind closed doors
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have also just finished three weeks on a soap opera in England. The soap opera is a rather famous one called Crossroads. It was first on television 25 years ago, and it has recently been brought back. I play the part of a businessman called David Wheeler.
quote by Jeremy Bulloch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stop Your Peeping Through Those Keyholes
Stop that peeping through those keyholes.
Open the windows and doors you've closed.
And take advantage of the time,
Bestowed upon you...
To stretch your mind.
Do this...
And you are certain to grow.
Stop your peeping through those keyholes.
Get fresh air and let yourself be exposed.
To all that is offered,
Beyond suspicions you guess..
And from rumors heard with gossip proposed.
Follow you must...
Each rising Sun.
From dawn 'til noon...
Until the dusk of twilight,
Invites nightfall that comes.
Stop that peeping through those keyholes.
Don't welcome your troubles,
To undo a happiness...
To chase away on the run.
Stop that peeping just to peek.
Stop that peeping just to peek.
Stop your peeping through those keyholes.
Stop that...
Peepng through those keyholes.
Open your windows and doors shut closed.
Stop that...
Peepng through those keyholes.
And take advantage of a life unlived.
One you have yet to accept.
Or come to know.
Stop your peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life to live to be bold.
Stop your,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life to live that is proudly told.
Stop that peeping just to peek.
Stop that peeping just to peek.
Stop that peeping before you're too old.
Stop that,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life to live to be bold.
Stop your,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life to live that is proudly told.
Live a life to live that is proudly told.
And live a life before you're too old.
Stop that,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life to live to be bold.
Stop your,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life to live that is proudly told.
Live a life to live that is proudly told.
And live a life before you're too old.
Stop your,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life before you're too old.
Stop your,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life before you're too old.
Stop your,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life before you're too old.
Live life before you're too old.
Stop your peeping through those keyholes.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Love and understanding
Who today would praise
consciousness itself,
which brings new life and thought
every morning, opening
our minds a little more,
making the light seem brighter,
everything more vivid,
life itself more worth living?
This morning, I read the words
‘Love itself is understanding’…
and in the mind, doors blew open,
windows rattled, a wind
that smelled of spring and grass and rain
blew through the mind
and the word love
blew off the dusty shelf
along with the cobweb
but lay unbroken on the floor
waiting to be washed and put back
next to understanding
and the silliest, biggest gift of all
is to know for the first time
what you’ve always known
and which nearly two thousand years ago
Gregory the Great
also recognised for the first time,
maybe felt the same way, as if
he was entrusted with the key
to a large house on a windy day.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Piece Of Myself... And For Myself
people in my place worry about me
why i do not worry about next year
the next planting season after this year's bumpy harvest where every room in the house is filled with corn.
people in my place ask me where shall i live after next year
and you should soon inherit the house that i built for 50 years.
they all worry about me with all those particular items like what shall happen
to the glasses in my cabinet
or the white car in my blue garage
or my gold watch and my silver spoons and my china plates
they worry about my gold fish in my aquarium
who shall feed them when i am no longer home
people worry a lot about me
and i begin sometimes when i get tired listening to all the questions
asking: why me? why do you worry all about me?
i am not even dead yet and have no plans retiring from life's works
like the arts and this
pottery and this poetry
people worry about me
and never about us.
i am tired and all i need is sleep.
and i do not worry at all.
because i know that if i am dead
then i am dead
and i do not ask for more
not even on extended dreams
not even on anything
perhaps they worry about me because they all worry about themselves
perhaps i am their mirror
or perhaps they think that with my behavior
i should not have lived
in the first place.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Spit And Sawdust Pub
Jukebox on in the corner
a group of lads playing Pool
arrows being thrown at a dartboard
and a drunk acting the fool.
Loads of blokes in football shirts
watching a live game on the T.V.
a woman sipping at her Orange juice
while her partner knocks back Whisky.
Four chaps sit around a table
there playing three card brag
as one of them counts his winnings
the others go outside for a fag.
The pub gets noisier by the hour
words are now slurred due to the drink
some customers are now so drunk
they don't care what anyone may think.
Last orders is shouted out loudly
the landlord wants to call it a night
but before he can close the doors
he has to break up a drunken fight.
So that's a night in the rough house pub
as English as Cheese on Toast
a plate of Fish and Chips
or a good old Sunday roast!
poem by Kevin Halls
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In This House
in this house
where you've been
what you've seen
were the windows
in this house
where you've been
what you've seen
were the doors
in this house
where you've sat
what you ate
was your food
in this house
where you've sat
what you ate
was the word
in this house
where you stood
what you could
something say
in this house
you could open
windows doors clapping wings
in this house
you could open
soul that heaven upward sings
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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This House
In this house
walls vault
rise to high windows,
arch to sky and tree.
See the bright table,
gleaming plates!
Onions are steaming
in the fragrant air; Oh, hear
the happy clatter
of dinner
in this house.
poem by Steven Federle
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When You Finally Reveal What You Feel
the time has come
to tell her
that she is hurting me
she didn't know
and when she knows finally
she offers her hands of silence
she wants to go for a while
and know some more what has been wrong
with her
when she comes back i am ready for
all the consequences of my
words
the doors are open and so are the windows
the world is too beautiful to welcome me again
to her place
i do not care anymore if it rains
when the right time also for her to decide
my shoes are ready and it is rocking itself to
a new beat
i like to dance but i still
have a little restraint
respect is still there sticking like a moss
which will still miss the wetness of the stones
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Coming To Terms With Reality
maybe i was wrong,
for everything i thought,
nobody perfect,
i just wanted to excape life,
couldn't handle what god gave me,
giving up became my only choice,
until people showed they cared,
in more ways than i can say,
make me realize,
i still have more to fight,
giving up was no longer a choice,
there was other ways to go,
i just to blind to see at the time,
all i seen, was life that became unfair,
it didn't seem worth living anymore,
if you can only feel my pain,
you would understand why i thought,
the way i did,
stuck living life without a mother to guild you,
living with pain that became part of your life,
taking on so much responsitbility,
before i have a chance to experience life,
can't be like other kids my age,
force to take on more than i want,
having to be the bigger person,
can get tiring, but more and more,
i'm learning that things happen for a reason,
what the #ell is that reason?
i have no ideal,
life is one big puzzle,
there missing pieces that need to be found,
in order to understand the full picture.
Copyright © 2009
5-29-09
poem by Mona Martinez
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