Octavio 3
'We pursue modernity
in her incessant metamorphoses
yet we never manage to trap her.
She always escapes:
each encounter ends in flight.
We embrace her and
she disappears
immediately:
it was just a little air.
It is the instant,
that bird that is everywhere
and nowhere.
We want to trap it alive
but it flaps its wings
and vanishes
in the form of a handful
of syllables.
We are left empty-handed.
Then the doors of perception open slightly
and the other time appears,
the real one we were searching for
without knowing it:
the present,
the presence.'
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Less than an hour before he'd congratulated himself on escaping all the traps of Earth, all the snares of Man. Not knowing that the greatest trap of all, the final and the fatal trap, lay on this present planet.
quote by Clifford D. Simak
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Packt Like Sardines In A Crushd Tin Box
there are bomb? doors and there are revolving doors doors on the rudders of big ships and there are revolving doors there are doors that open by themselves there are sliding doors and there are secret doors there are doors that lock and doors that don't there are doors that let you in and out but never open but there are trap doors that you can't come back from
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Caught In A Trap
Sometimes you get caught in a trap and you dont know it
Sometimes its better to get out while you know it
Some people never learn they keep on falling
You can never get out if you keep on stalling
Then you get,
(chorus:) caught in a trap caught in dead end
Caught in a trap with nowhere to run
Then you get, caught in a trap caught in dead end
Nowhere to turn but it cant go on
Caught in a trap
Sometimes you got to know where to run for cover
Sometimes your better out till the heat is over
Ah you get (chorus)
Caught in a trap
Dont know how it happened but then its too late
Then you gotta move on the times, you cant wait
Cus you got (chorus)
(chorus)
(chorus)
Caught in a trap
Caught in a trap
Caught in a t
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trap and Bird
Birds flocking together
Blaming to the snared bird
Not for the trap
In the sense of knowing
Return not again to them
Find faults and blame him
Not to trap.
He has gone to go
A journey that never has gone.
If he crossed it
Birds would fly behind him.
Would and could be able
To eat and to taste
fruits and nuts
And to enjoy the freedom
Never have had
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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Success In Need
success is something
which u keep chasing
until u trap it in net
and lock it up
and look day and night
that the prisoner wont escape
and be caught somewhere else
by people who wont set it free
just like u planned to keep
and once it escapes
it leads to fighting and pain
and even break between success seeking friends
some think why is it important
to fight for such a thing
to strive without a friend
to waste time searching
but only few know the advantage of its presence.............................
poem by Manahil Shafiq
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Uses For Wings - Variations From 'We Can Be Broken' & Other Discarded Poems
.
'It means so much that we can be broken.' - from an early poem,1978
For Tien Ho, departed,
and Michael R.
carving the empty space
of her leaving still
*
Here is a Presence beyond
illicit fires bearing witness
to evidence, remains of flight,
contrived escapes blocked by panes,
walls striped in ramming panic,
of ritual and a broken neck,
petrified wings placed in open
spaces they once could range.
*
I began
a bird flown down a chimney
dying in an empty house,
a hidden mountain valley,
night time fires upon surrounding
hills, moonshine stills signaling
flame warnings, bootleggers' silent
spirits conjuring drip by drip
metal and grain.
*
Here are uses for wings:
something returning,
or turning inward
eventually climbed,
rested upon,
or fallen to some chimney life.
*
Descending the hill in unplanned rehearsal
for what has become a destined association,
our mutual confession is invisibly drawn.
A ruined one-room church appears,
a cemetery plot weed-hidden behind this
once sentinel house long remote to men,
as present as God. My own presence is bound
to his who stands confounded now as three,
one above grave, one within it, and me
in between, one eye upon him, the other
upon sagging dirt where bones and a
ragged shirt share an unexpected
moment of veils confused in sunlight's
disarray of leaves, wood, of stone and
shadows frozen there, not breathing
for us all in unstoried astonishment.
Here horseflies feast.
Upon weathered stones
are only creases for once were
names, dates, even God's Word,
chiseled by a now unknown hand,
an impression only, one among many,
reduced to no plot but that of Providence
left to surmise swatting at Eucharistic
flies proving only flesh and only blood,
a flood of questions eventually exhaled,
and exhaling still, waiting beside
a white rock with wings,
ignoring fires,
leaning into changes.
*
poem by Warren Falcon
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A glorious Focal Point
Little by little it goes
Like a titi bird in the sky
Flying with open wings
yes, they say
In a deep and soft voice
Is an angel
Where is it going?
Now they open their eyes
In a wonderful smile
really awanderful grin
with their lips inside agape
Noses nearly pointing to each other
What? They say
Prescription rescues
The matter of change
and the open window
with some drizzles
on it
So it does slide
where is it going?
Is the green field
of somebody
It closes its wings
slightly
Yes, it really smiles
on ends
poem by Paul Mwenelupembe
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Death Trap
I see you runnin
Youre gone
A million miles away
But you know Im comin
Violenz that
Blows you into space
And you think
Youre gonna get away
Like you did before
But youre the type
I never feel sorry for, so
Fall into my death trap
Fall into my death trap
Lifes paranoia
Youre hiding in
The dark all day
At nite I call you
Cause I know
Youre always wide awake
So you never
Sleep at all at nite
Extermination
Of youre wasted life
So now Ive got you
Youre cornered like a fool
I terminate you
Live by my golden rule
Task complete
And once again Ive won
Now I search
For another victim to come
I cant explain the sheer
Thrill of it all
Its such a chill
To watch the meek just fall
Death trap death trap
Death trap death trap
Fall in
song performed by by Pantera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Already Open!
are we called to love?
or driven, by an unseen hand?
are we the fire,
or the memory of?
is it he who plants the seed,
or the seed itself?
are we alone,
or do we walk with the dead?
concepts! mental cages.
who builds the cage?
who fights against the latch?
in lonliness we struggle,
never knowing ourselves.
painting the picture
of the bird in flight...
not knowing we are the bird,
the flapping of wings,
and the sky!
not knowing, not knowing...
still we dream,
dreams that taste and smell!
are we dreaming?
or part of the dream?
abstract and vague,
we fumble for the key.
never knowing, never knowing,
the door is already open!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Unable To Fly
I was once like a little bird
Caught by your hidden trap
Surrender unto you like a prey
Bleeding weakly with fright
Brought me to your home with pride
All day and night you cared
Healed those wounds beneath my wings
Built me a cage made of gold
Awaken me with the pat of love
Taught me how to sing of thanks
Many days have passed
I’ve been a joy in your life
And so you forgot who I was
Who I am and what I long outside
Forgotten that I’m prisoner of love
Though you treated me so kind
I want to be free, a bird of flight
I am eager to try if I can fly
Use my wings under the golden light
Soar into the blue sky, I will arise
And from my cage you let me free
But with claws so weak to grip
With wings unrehearsed to fly
I fainted in this frightful flight
So I find way back to your arms
I don’t know if I’ll be mad at you
Cease to sing to make you blue
‘Cause you deprived my right to fly
All my life I will be a parasite
For without you I cannot survive
poem by Rose de Ramar
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In My Own Chosen Solitude....
in my solitude i take the walk back to the woods
i go deeper under the trees and it is a world of wanton schemes
i discharge every crowd that resides in my head
i welcome dead leaves falling from the trees that seem to have hands
reaching the dark skies.
i am unloading and i do not stop until i am empty.
each step draws an idea which i fish from the water.
i see what disturbance is. I feel the chaos that wants to escape from
the barks of the trees, from the scales of each fish.
the solitude too struggles like a mouse caught in a trap.
it has learned the trick of calmness, of being steady, of
being still, in its own chosen silence.
the walk has finally taken me like a trap, and i cannot stop anymore.
there, ideas are born. flowers grow. animals talk,
there, dusts have grown the white wings of the doves,
there, man escapes from a hole, stands tall, and finally walks away.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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That We Can Be Broken - A Bird Spirit Speaks Of Beginnings
.
Citizen! What have they done with all the air? - Victor Serge
1
I began
a bird flown down a chimney,
an empty house hidden in a
mountain valley, a night time
fire upon surrounding hills,
a moonshine still's signal flame,
a bootlegger's warning,
a silent spirit conjuring
drip by drip
metal and grain.
No blue fire therein.
Suddenly spun,
some beckoning thing
wings between night's crumbled
brick and rusted tin,
white rock and
a wide sky,
braced by
a
closed
encircling valley.
2
Here
is a Presence
beyond illicit fires
bearing witness to evidence found,
remains of flight, contrived escapes
stopped by panes,
walls striped in ramming panic,
of ritual and a broken neck,
petrified wings displaced.
Now remote is the open space
they once could range.
3
Descending the hill in unplanned rehearsal
for what has become a destined association,
our mutual confession is invisibly drawn.
A ruined one-room church appears,
a cemetery plot weed-hidden behind this
once sentinel house long remote to men and
as present as God, my own presence is bound
to his who stands confounded now as three,
one above grave, one within it, and me
in between, one eye upon him, the other
upon sagging dirt where bones and a
ragged shirt share an unexpected
moment of veils confused in sunlight's
disarray of leaves, wood, of stone and
shadows frozen there, not breathing
for us all in un-storied astonishment.
Here horseflies feast.
Upon weathered stones are
only creases where once were
names, dates, even God's Word,
chiseled by a now unknown hand,
an impression only, one among many,
reduced to no plot but that of Providence
left to surmise swatting at Eucharistic
flies proving only flesh and only blood,
a flood of questions eventually exhaled,
and exhaling still, waiting beside
a white rock with wings,
ignoring fires,
leaning into changes.
4
There are uses for wings -
thoughts,
ramming walls,
and panes,
earnest though
contrived escapes.
At first midnight in stillness,
wait.
A white rock,
wings,
a still,
ignorant fires,
illicit spirits
lean into changes.
5
In arms
we carried It
as one does
a child
yet it was
He who carried us,
both bird and man,
who cried
openly
on the way
for our presence
solid in his arms,
he who did not care
who saw his tears shed,
head down,
beneath spring blossoms,
living presences
within bestowing
strength,
order
from
stone and remnant wings.
6
How all this will turn.
I do not burn to know.
I only yearn here,
air and more,
of air now air
all the more
in sustained
moments
without height.
Something returns
or turns inward
that may be climbed
to rest upon
or fall again to
some chimney
life to be found,
itself a winged burden.
.
poem by Warren Falcon
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What Now Little Bird?
what now little bird?
you look around you
the nest is empty
and mother bird is far away
and siblings
have taken the first jump
to the pond
to learn to float
and then
fly
you think that mother-bird
comes back
to feed you with another worm?
no, little bird
no one is coming back for you
you do not even
know if you have a father-bird
to save you
no, little bird
do not wait
do not waste your time
the sun shines
and it is time
for you to go too
fly now
little bird
find the real meaning of your wings....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Wingless Bird?
We dwell in thee Oh God
As the fish dwells in the sea
We find our place in you
As a lock is to a key
To walk outside your presence
Is like a bird that has no wings
This bird that cannot fly
Is the bird that cannot sing
When we have left our first love
Then we stand outside the door
When this lion opens up its mouth
This lion finds it cannot roar
To dwell in any other place
Than deep within His heart
Is to stand upon the platform
And watch the train depart
Oh Lord we find our place in you
As the bird soars in the sky
If our place is not in you
Then we must surely die
Can a fish live out of water?
Can the wingless bird begin to fly?
Could a flower bloom in perpetual darkness?
Or would the flower surely die?
You are the wings that give us flight
You are the Sun that ends the night
You are the waters of the deep
You are the harvest that we reap
I am your exceeding great reward
Seek me with all your heart
Dwell with Me, your King, your Lord
And we shall never be apart
poem by Frank McEleny
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Setting Free The Little Black Bird...
and this i remember
when i was yet a young boy
in a far away village
i caught a black bird
in my handmade trap
and it was trying to
escape from the hold of
my hands,
at first i liked to bring it home
and show to father
but then i looked at its eyes
begging for mercy to be
set free
and i heeded to its flee
i released that little black bird free
x x x x
it is the same now between me and my body
this trap and this soul that begs now to be set free
this little black bird begging for mercy
it shall be set free
that young boy understands
it is this body.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rilke: Duino Elegies
Duino Elegies
First Elegy
Oh on earth if we cry out,
And in heaven, which angle would respond?
Even if there is one to embrace us, still we would shiver,
For how can we survive in front of his mighty existence?
Oh, beauty is merely our first encounter of terror,
When we can still bear and adore its awesomeness,
That it disdains to wipe out all of us.
For every angle is terrifying.
So we must swallow our own dark sobbing.
But to whom we can ask for help?
Not angels, not people, and the animals?
But the cunning animals have already figured out
That we are not at home,
And what’s left, only the trees,
On the hillside they stand, and we pass by them daily.
Such loyal presence becomes some habits,
That gives us pleasures so we can move on and about.
And the night, o yeah, at night,
When the wind gushing from outer space and licking our faces-
Oh, for whom she would not wait?
This mildly disappointed lady with so much effort,
And her lonely heart has to bear for all her desires.
But is it much easier for lovers?
Ah, we are only trying to manage by staying together,
And hoping that we can somehow survive the conclusion of our fate.
Can we comprehend this?
For we only throw our arms into the empty air
Trying to embrace what we breathe day by day-
Maybe only the birds can feel the airflow
And flip their wings with more passions.
.......
(Rainer Maria Rilke/I incorrectly edited it the way I like, that I feel it is much easier for me to memorize)
poem by Laijon Liu
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Three Days After
You secretly laid a net as a trap before me,
And three days later you fell into your own trap!
So don't let your tongue speak any evil,
For the wicked borrows and does not repay.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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To Marvel
To marvel at the miracle is haste,
Much slaughter happens when one is weak,
This creature vanishes when it is chased,
A frenzy instant crazes us - bespeak!
The nature of our lives must hasten form,
The forms abound in riches each do weep,
Has treasure found a word indulged by norm?
Open the doors by force and be asleep.
Because of your creation of hitting,
One felt over the hills a sense of wish,
Internal whims practise abolishing,
Hills make us full of hate, to astonish.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Trapped, like a trap in a trap.
quote by Dorothy Parker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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