My Existence
have you seen how a paper
falling from the 6th floor of the building
is blown by the strong wind
into the sea
into the nothingness of dissolution
when you finally
lose it
when you think that your eyes are failing you
when you think that you are dying
when they that see you
across the glass walls
think that you are the one
that perfectly normal and happy person
unaffected by
no other.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Its Ok
Its ok
Love is only meant for some
Im the rock
The shoulder you can cry on
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
Ill play it straight
While you laugh and drink and party all night long
Ill designate myself
To be the driver who takes you home
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
You can be pretty and tragic
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
You can be beautiful and fabulous
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
I cant reach the pain you feel
But Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
If you can hold on
Lose your fear
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
Falling down
Falling down
Where is your saint
To let you know youre not alone
To bring you peace
Help me be your friend your confidante
And keep the walls from falling down
Keep the walls from falling down
Keep the walls from falling down
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where The Streets Have No Names
I want to run
I want to hide
I want to tear down the walls
That hold me inside
I want to reach out
And touch the flame
Where the streets have no name
I want to feel sunlight on my face
I see the dust cloud disappear
Without a trace
I want to take shelter from the poison rain
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
We're still building
Then burning down love
Burning down love
And when I go there
I go there with you
It's all I can do
The city's aflood
And our love turns to rust
We're beaten and blown by the wind
Trampled in dust
I'll show you a place
High on a desert plain
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
We're still building
Then burning down love
Burning down love
And when I go there
I go there with you
It's all I can do
Our love turns to rust
We're beaten and blown by the wind
Blown by the wind
Oh, and I see love
See our love turn to rust
We're beaten and blown by the wind
Blown by the wind
Oh, when I go there
I go there with you
It's all I can do
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Guiled ‘me’...
That is how I injured myself
desiring the right thing,
extracting the reason from charity.
I will now pluck off the rage, the silence,
the exotica from the frozen valley.
Words will become my foes swimming in your eyes.
I was listening to your questions
without becoming a witness; I was my own answer.
The time was revengeful. Show was over.
We were losing the relevance
and guests had departed.
We were becoming the walls of a glass house.
I dread my conscience, a terrible roaring in mind.
Does not allow me to sleep. Values were insulting me.
Falling like an old wall-paper; truth went unnoticed.
Peacocks were dying daily.
I am going to lose myself in the night
of a moonless sky.
poem by Satish Verma
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Unaffected
there never seems to be, because what i believe, a moment i'm not trying
to show them who i am, why can't they understand the things that
they're denying?
they're denying...
so what should i do, just lay next to you as though i'm unaffected?
and who should i be when they're judging me as though i'm unaffected?
a chance they'd never give to ever want to live the life that i am made of
theres nothing left to prove, my heart's forever true, what is it they're
afraid of?
afraid of....
so what should i do, just lay next to you as though i'm unaffected?
and who should i be when they're judging me as though i'm unaffected?
before they even saw my face they knew that i was not the same
and decided i was not the one for you, for you...
so what should i do? i'm not unaffected
and who should i be? i'm not unaffected
so what should i do, just lay next to you as though i'm unaffected?
and who should i be when they're judging me as though i'm unaffected?
unaffected.......
song performed by by Hoobastank
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Don't Really Mind
when you shout and scream
and slam the door
i don't really mind
as i watch TV
I guess i was born
to be a perfectly normal and
happy person
so, i am really sorry for you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fragments (2)
I see fragments
Of memories
Scattered in the floor
Of our past
I am bound
And my hands are dying
I am muted
By bitterness and pain
I am a broken bone
My heart is maimed
My mind is floating
Like clouds drifting
I see fragments
I see leaves
Blown by the wind
I can do nothing
I see dusts
The wind has come
And everything
Is blown away
I see emptiness
I hear nothing
I am here.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Collage
Rain is falling and I hear more than I care to- while I am
Seated upon the floor, tearing paper to pieces-
Randomly pasting beside cut outs onto cardboard,
Zebras and kangaroos are hiding
Behind a group of ballerinas while
Two Kenyan woman are quantum jumping?
Irish church towers casting shadows
Upon a garden of daffodils and
Eyes are everywhere, staring from the paper
Into my own eyes- trying to understand me-
Rain is falling upon the rooftop and I hear voices singing death dirges,
Tragic tunes from which there are no escaping.
Magazine cutouts and torn newspaper pieces I glue randomly onto cardboard-
My thoughts are running wild as a caged raccoon.
Through my eyes I see a world out there beyond comprehension
As rain splashes rhythmically upon the sidewalk outside,
Voices inside my mind threaten ill fate, while
The light that once shone upon sallow colored walls has just burnt out.
All I can see now is that piece of cardboard with
Cut out and torn pictures and writing pasted in total disarray-
I paint bright colors over them, trying to demolish all of the pain they represent-
But no amount of paint would obliterate the anger that is ripping at my gut.
I was born with a face that is clear of expression and a body that has been well cared for-
But if one were to open the door to my mind they would find much anger and despair-
Eyes are all about me looking into mine and I cannot escape-
The rain is falling harder now and I keep tearing paper-
Shadows are cast upon yellowed walls and I keep painting torn paper and images.
My thoughts are screaming to be released-
More than those of zebras and kangaroos hiding behind ballerinas dancing-
Or of Kenyan women quantum jumping- or even more than
The clashing pieces of paper and magazine pictures could ever express-
I am falling, falling and falling into a trap- and
There is no outlet for me from which to escape from this delusional world
As so many have called it and I just continue painting bright colors onto cardboard and
Pasting photographs and torn newspaper hoping that one morning
When I awaken and open my eyes there will be
Beautiful pictures upon freshly painted walls-
Pictures that have a theme and a purpose: Then the rain will have stopped falling and
My eyes shall be opened to a world I can understand, the door to my mind
Shall opened as well, so my thoughts can be released to a world that
With all hope can finally understand me-
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Some people are afraid to show their true colors
i am not
i don't hide
i have nothing to hide
i am what i am
i am brown, i am a Filipino,
and I am not afraid, I am what i am, i show who and what i am, and i take responsibitity
for what i am
for what i write for what i do for what i say
mountains do not hide, how can they? the seas keep their bodies in the open
their waves blown by the air, for how can they be what they are when they are in hiding?
the trees and the plains, the valleys and the hills, what can they be if they are in hiding? shall you see a vast desert of them then?
the air, if only they have that nature to be seen, they could have assumed such forms that you see, they too are happy to be seen so that you may believe in them,
for in truth, those true and giving do no hide, and if you cannot see them,
they always try,
in some conceivable manifestations,
in some shapes, colors and forms
like some leaves falling when the wind passes by,
like some trees bending, like some pieces of paper blown to the other end.
why are you in hiding?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Outside And Inside
this early morning
the rains are raging
outside is a rampage of
blown leaves and trees
you are afraid may
finally be uprooted
in the room
the brown dog sleeps
beside a wooden wall
on the floor
the glass doors
& windows are closed
the silence reigns
inside you begin
on another journey
you began last night
on some short breaths
until you think
you had a nice sleep
inside there is something
that rages
it is not the wind or the rain
it is something else
that you want to know
more & more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When The Rain Stopped Falling
there is this heavy rain
falling on top of your roof and it is so disturbing
that you wake up
and lock your windows
to shut yourself away from the sounds
of falling
but you cannot help worrying even when you cannot
literally hear the sound of the falling rain
you still imagine how they fall inside your mind
as though you can hear every syllable that every neddle of rain
is pricking in your brain
your ears
and your eyes still have the image of these
series of fallings
that even if the rain finally stopped
and you open your window to check
in the middle of this time
when morning cracks fromt the shutters of your windows
you still think like crazy
you hear the sound of the wind and it is like the sound of the falling
rain
and even if the wind has left like a leaf flown to the eastern side
of your house
even if there is no shadow of the leaf anymore
you hear your heart falling from your chest
now you must accept
leaving.
now you must accept the pain.
do not deny it.
it is you that is falling out
from the grace of her love.
it is you.
cry it out!
shout it!
it is you.!
it is you!
it is not the rain, it is not the wind, it is not the leaf that was blown away
towards the eastern part of the house.it is not the design of the house.
it is not the purple curtains. it is not the lonely courtyard
it is not the red bowl. it is not the tower.
it is not the blank sheets of paper.
it is not the bell.
it is not the winding stairs.
it is not the dirty garage.
it is not the scaffold.
it is not the white paint.
it is not the doorbell.
it is not the turbulence of the plane.
it is not the slap of the hand.
it is not the blue fan.
it is not the cellophance floating in the air and whirling in that corner
a dead-end.
it is you! and that is the truth!
be calm now. wipe the tears.
try sleep and dream.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Confusing Story
forgetting you makes her
think of jumping out
of the window from
the 10th floor,
she is
so depressed like a
house blown by a tornado,
she thinks she is dying
she can be like her friend
one time
when finally she jumped
out and killed herself in
an instant like a water
melon crushed on the
pavement of the road.
there are 13 women who
died on this county in the
name of men, love, hate,
despair, denial, ambiguities,
she can't be the 14th
of this story,
enough of
these! she like to have a happy
ending,
wait, she is trying to find
an exit
the exit of yes,
and 'they live happily ever
after'
yes. yes. yes.
that is what forgetting
means, she finally lives
happily ever after, and
the man is free and the
other woman dies of
grief.
The man is killed
in her story.
she betrays him too
the author, and even
God.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eternity, And Such...
eternity, and such...
the stain in the coffee cup,
the holes in the old man's underwear.
the rough tongue of a stray cat,
the shadow moving in the alley.
the trail left by the snail,
paper cups blown by the wind.
the blood left on the highway,
the dog dead in the ditch.
the glass shattered on the floor,
the stink of the body
three days after...
the limb torn from the tree
by the memory of storm.
your pillow, my hat,
a shot of brandy in an empty room.
the sound the heart makes...
when no one can hear!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Paper Boat On A Murky River
on your hand is a paper boat
you made last night
on a rainy day like this
you put on a gray rain coat
the river rises
perfect for your scheme
you put the boat gently
on the brown water
white paper boat
carried by this murkiness
your hands push
the paper boat leaves
tonight you sleep on
the wooden floor
it is mahogany brown and you
become the paper boat
sailing inside your dream
the floor becomes the big river
your thoughts become the wind
your eyes become two moons
the room is as dark as the night
the dream is so alive like a mother's song.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Kick Down The Walls
Took the long way to the shortcut, and the walls were made of stone
Took the low road to the highground, had to feel it in my bones
Everybody wants some heaven, but nobody wants to die
Its been brought to my attention
Youll be dead a long time, now aint that a crime
Chorus:
Kick down the walls, shake down the building, help me bust out of this cage
Kick down the walls, shake down the building, must be time for a change
I went driving in the moonlight, there was no place left to go
I went digging in my coalmine, when I hit the motherload
If this world could work together, like a big old human clock
It would run on till forever, it would never have to stop, never have to stop
Chorus
(instrumental break)
You cant buy no protection, dont care who you are
Spreading out in all directions, now its no hold barred
Everybody runs for cover, from the sun and sex and sin
If you think you got the answers, buddy just you come on in, step right in
Chorus repeats 2x
Kick down the walls, shake down the building
Kick down the walls, shake down the building
Kick down the walls, shake down the building
Kick down the walls, shake down the building
song performed by by Toto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Glistening Dreams of Glass
My glistening glass dreams slip from my hands,
I see them fall in slow motion, heading toward their impending destruction.
They crumple as they meet the harsh, immovable reality that is a brilliant marble floor.
Dissolving in an array of colours and beautiful sounds, they look so much but amount to so little.
They shatter forever in my mind, with no one to pick up the pieces.
The hourglass shines as the grains of sand rush through the smallest gap,
Bursting through into a new realm of life.
But when each grain passes the gap, it does not for me mean some newfound freedom,
It just draws me one step closer to the final verse of my own tragic ballad.
But the sand keeps falling, when will it stop falling?
And as my glistening dreams of glass,
Slip again from weary fingers,
The songs begin to fade,
The colours turn to gray.
As the universe carries on, unaffected by my presence...
poem by Alex Duchovny
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Falling, Falling, Falling!
Babylon is falling, falling, falling!
This world is ending, ending, ending!
The bombs are falling, falling, falling!
My people are dying, dying, dying!
But, hold on! Wait a minute! !
Why is the world not learning, learning, learning? !
For hatred are now being taught in the schools and the churches!
And my people are now dying, dying, dying! !
For, we as human beings have broken the covenant.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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I Am Who I Am
I am who I am.
I am not that piece of clay you could mold into the being-
So like the model statue you purchased to decorate your life.
I am who I am., your one and only.
You wanted three others to
Complete the painting of your ideal life.
I am a tree alone in the woods
That for some unknown reason stopped growing and
Was blown to pieces of bark by a hurricane-
But I am who I am and
You were the hurricane that shattered
Your own dream of the person you wanted me to be-
After my first fall you cried every night,
I was told, and my tears were dry but copious.
Restrained and locked in a room called seclusion, where
Floors were urine stained and paint peeling off the walls-
This place where crazy people were confined,
Alone to scream, cry and pound upon the walls.
My screams, blood curdling as a car smashing into another.
My tears, I wept –could you hear?
Pounding upon the walls-they could have shattered while
More paint chips fell upon the filthy, dusty floors.
I am who I am. A lone person with no facial expression painted
And in a reclining position-in the midst of an incomplete picture
Where three other people were never drawn, because they were never born.
I am who I am- your one and only- and you have been gone for twenty years.
I am a tree alone in the woods that had fallen but was somehow replanted and
Grew to touch the sky. If you could see me now, perhaps
I would more resemble that ideal statue and you may be proud
To see the person I have become. But I shall never know for certain and neither shall you.
I am who I am- a lone figure standing against a plain piece of paper, though
With an expression of thoughtfulness and perhaps even a smile and
Now my tears can be seen because it may not matter that I am your one and only
Because I have grown to be somebody you may be proud to see.
I weep plentiful tears of dismay because you are too far away for me to reach-
I am who I am and there are no paint chips falling and I can see my reflection
Upon the clean and polished floors and some place in the back of my mind
I am hoping you can in your own way, see it also-
I am who I am- not a failure but a strong brave person who is like
A tree in the woods that shall never stop growing until I touch the sky,
Where you are in heaven and there we will meet and you would be proud
Of the person I have grown to become and that I am who I am- your daughter.
poem by Claudia Krizay
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I complain of my own nothingness
I COMPLAIN OF MY OWN NOTHINGNESS
I complain of my own nothingness
And I ask God for Help.
Am I a hypocrite or just a fool?
Or perhaps more kindly put
A person of the eternal human contradictions?
I complain of my own nothingness
And ask God for Help.
God Who has given me so much,
Why did You also have to give me
My sense of my own nothingness, also?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Returning to South Carolina meant getting a normal job in a normal town with normal people and marrying a normal person. I wanted the glamour and opportunity of the world.
quote by Donna Rice
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Four Poetic Points For The Neighborhood To Ponder
i
it is that particular moment
when your tongue tastes the skin of the wind
and it shall tell you too about its long
and unfinished journey
it is this intimacy with the hands of the wind
the talk that both of you do more often under the moon
ii
it is when you sit on the floor
your back rests on the wall
it is this intimacy of self-talking upon itself
when the wall begins to respond
when the floor finally makes its comments
iii
the neighborhood begins to doubt you
but you have no doubt about yourself or the floor's sincerity
or the door's indulgence
or the intimacy with the wind and the wall
which offers you a buffer between emptiness and
chaos
eventually everything has come
smooth and natural
well folded like the waves
well covered like the mist on the tree tops
iv
what you have to serve to all these inquisitors
is an empty glass upon an imaginary tray
which they still have to figure out
why you are serving them the perfect drops of silence
for all their thirsts.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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