On Those, That Which, Remain Unsaid... But Obvious
i am about to sleep.
my eyes droop like an old man
defective spinal cord restless on the furrowed muscles
the arm lifeless, the head bowed,
the hips on painful joints,
i couldn't take the thoughts of
dry river beds and what the women
who want to wash their old clothes
could have done without the
usual running rivers,
and i ask myself what's next to the
pebbles, and the scorching sun at midday,
what's deep down under the
dead moss, the fish
without their usual flesh,
the bones all white and
sharp, what's next to the warmest
day, when all the laundry women
have gone away?
yes, what's next to us
dichotomous concepts
of tradition?
what is next to these flailing legs,
those rusty earrings not made of
gold?
what is next to the coldness of our
words? our selves on arms raised
wanting an eventual surrender
those kept and remaining
unsaid.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Tribute To The Women
Women wash the dirty laundry at home
They satisfy there desires
Of women on human beings in the streets
Women wash
Women iron
Women is needed the whole time
To cook also
poem by Aldo Kraas
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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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Women
Women behind bars, women in fast cars, women in distress, women with no dress
Women in airplanes, women who play games
Women in uniform, see that woman with her clothes gone
Women who satisfy, women you cant buy
Like women in magazines, and women in a limousine
Women who sip champagne, women who feel no pain
Women in a disco, and women who dont wanna know, no no
Oh, women wanting sympathy, women feeling extacy
Women who live in fantasies, bringing man to his knees
Women who boil to love, women who need a shove
Women who cant be beat, get that woman in the back seat, yeah yeah
Women in the usa, those women steal your heart away
Women into rock n roll, women who steal the show, go go go
Women that you write songs about, women that turn around and kick you out
Women you dream about all your life
Women that stab you in the back with a switchblade knife
Oh women, oohoo, talking bout women, all round the world
Yeah women, all the naughty girls, talking bout women, come on baby
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anti-thesis....
i wake up again
and the usual feeling is there
when everyone in the house
are still dreaming
in sleep
this is the unholy hour
of the arrival of words
but i must oblige
for i am nothing but
a servant of
syllables
this is a pond of darkness
and i am the only fish
here
communing with moss
this is the moment of my blooming
i am the flower
that blooms at dawn
and wilts again
at the first hour of your
morning
and so what you see
at your doorstep is another
untimely death
when the rest just open their eyes
when the first ray of the sun lands on the eyelash
there i am
back to bed
captured by the hands of dreams
lost in transition
and those who see me
shake their heads
thinking there is something wrong with this man
always running against time
against the sun
amidst the storm
and the flood
a bad sight of a rock
in the middle of the raging waters
but shall i worry then
when i am half-dead in bed
so silent like the sands
lost now in my man made stars
inside the secret
labyrinths of my own mind
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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Women and love
Let me a seat in your mind my friend
To sit and share with you what've experienced
Is all about women and love
My friend, don't fall in love
But stand firm in love
Because those that fell in love yesterday
They're mentally injured today
In the street today,
-they're the able casualties of divorce
While those that stood, are the pillar of peace
My friend, love is dangerous
Also some women are poisonous
Many men have tasted them and died
Coz women aren't toast bread
Which you can just eat and be satisfied
My friend, don't give woman all your heart
Because little you gave to her, she'll toy with it
She'll cook your heart
Till you're dead
Before you're being buried,
She'll cleave to another man from the royals
Listen, women are not mere rivers
-That men can just take their baths
They're as deep as river Niger
My friend, if truely you've lost in her river
O you need money before you can cross over
My friend, women don't recognise love but money
All because bridges over their rivers are bricks covered with money
Don't be in haste to love
Since you must love
Finally, my friend let my words flood your veins
And be wise like tortoise
poem by Adesitimi Taiwo
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A love poem for my wife
When the time comes
That I become a very sick man,
Unable to do the usual things
Expected of myself and the demands
Of your sweet society, when I no longer smell
What men smell of women
Their underwear and underarm
Deodorants titillating to our masculine
Desires, when I no longer find
Motels as interesting places
To make more stories or
Those dark secret places of two hearts
Where names and age and reputations
Are irrelevant, when the time comes
For me to kneel and pray and
Find the usual places for solitary
Old men facing the final curtains
Of the play, please my dear
Be gentle with me,
I may have lied, and pursued
What made you mad
But you must know the eulogies
Of the rotten flesh and
Distinguish it from the hymnal truth
Of the spirit
I am not afraid to profess
I have not loved so true
Other women than you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Women In Uniform
Beehive hairdo, 45 on the hip
Patrolwoman Saunders, don't you give her no whip
Took me to the station for a breathtest
then back to the bedroom for some house-arrest
[Chorus:]
Women in uniform, sometimes they look so cold
Women in uniform, but, Oh! They feel so warm
Coming back to London on a 747
Stewardess made me feel like I'm in heaven
Looking up the aisle to see what I could see
She leaned over said; Give it to me
White apron, brown leather shoes
The nurse at the clinic left my heart all bruised
Gave me a massage, sprained my right
Now she takes my temperature every night
[Chorus]
Women in uniform, Women in uniform
Women in uniform, Women in uniform
Commando raid on the Lebanese border
Sergeant Anita, she gives the order
Khaki jacket and a love gun
Baby, I surrender, let's have some fun
[Chorus]
[Solo]
[Chorus]
Women in uniform, Women in uniform
Women in uniform, Women in uniform
Women in uniform, Khaki, white and blue
Women in uniform, coming after you
Women, women, Women in uniform
Women, women, Women in uniform
[Chorus]
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White Magic Women
White magic women seen walking on the rode
White magic women with poison lips and bitter eyes
White magic women with that black magic hair
White magic women with skin and bones
I saw that white magic women on that rode
I saw her kiss you with those poison lips and stare with bitter eyes
I saw that black magic hair
I saw that white magic women with skin and bones
I saw that white magic women
poem by Jasmine Shipp
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Women And Men
Let passion be a weapon,
Men heard the women speak!
They raised their voices to fit,
And compassion faced us.
Growth of legs begged us
To see and delet the reading of eyes.
Eyes saw more of the lenses,
They entered the creation,
Their spoken words were a gift.
I saw swords erasing my enemy,
As more villages discovered men.
Never do men in that way beam
On women of the past.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The sentence of love...
Many thoughts live inside my head,
Yet quite often they go unsaid.
So many thoughts that were not spoken,
Were they merely just a token? ...
Were the thoughts that meant the most,
The ones I never got round to post?
Have I missed the chance to save us all?
I think the chances must be small...
For if those thoughts meant so much,
We should find a way to stay in touch.
Thought understands feelings in a way,
That mere words could never convey...
And just because these words go unsaid,
Does not mean to life that they are dead.
For special words have meaning so true,
The words I'm thinking of are 'I love you...'
So although the words I don't often say,
May not be heard each and every day.
When the sentence of love my head does start,
You shall live forever in my heart...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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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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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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When The Romance Fades....
boredom finally
arrives
laying itself in the
blue sofa
still dressed
from the usual party
it does not spread
its legs
the blanket covers
the rusty arms of
the bed
the shoes are sleepy
on the carpeted floor
silence is
at this hour of the night
comforting
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Simplicity Of Thoughts
thoughts are simple
i see them without color
we dress thoughts with words
so the other person we love can see
we add a little touch of the hand
so the other can feel that she is not lonely
that i am can also feel
that i am not alone
but whether we are here or not
lonely or otherwise
thoughts still roam this world
looking for a medium
the tree, the cloud, the moss and the rock
it is my theory have thoughts
the rock is numb the cloud is lifeless
the tree is deeply rooted to the earth
the moss too green sticking to a rock
remembering the rivers that were with it
for centuries, they get tired
and they do not believe in words anymore
too many lies
and verbosity
we are the only ones who still have faith
and too foolish.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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God Was Right
God was right when he made the women
Because men built house for the women to live in with their families
And he included a kitchen
But God knew that if the house had a kitchen the women would be better The whole night cooking for her family
And God knew that the kitchen was the perfect place for women
God was right when he made women so that they can have babies
And feed the babies milk from her breasts and change all the babies Diapers everyday
Because the only way babies communicate is by crying
And all the babies needs their naps
God was right when he made the women
So she could be there to do the family laundry also
And women's job is never done at home
Because as long as she lives she will be the slave of home
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Empowerment of women
How can we arm the one who is already armed?
How can women empower themselves,
while already in power?
Her flesh is the ground and her love, the goal.
Every man’s aim is to play and earn her, the goal.
Her sex rules men. She, the ruler, makes men slave.
Battles were won and lost by men over women.
Men were dead for the women and by the women.
Women know they are rulers and men are cringers
Women are the cause of tussle; else peace will rule.
Sexuality and hedonism betoken woman’s power.
‘Still more’ means like arming elephants
with larger eyes.
01.05.2001, Pmdi
[i, e
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I Was Raised by Poem
I was raised by soul food cooking.
Talking while eating
come on down an get your self a plate
Kind of women.
'girl laid back and let me braid your'
Sorta women
Some longlegged, shortlegged
Kind of women.
Dark brown, hip shaking
Miniskirt wearing
' I know I look fine tonight'
Sorta women
Some coffee sipping
Not getting married to soon
Better say yes sir
To him type of brother
Some hip shaking, leg swinging
Kind of women
Singing loud
Type of sisiter
Some hands swinging
Hands on hips
' Don't mess with my baby'
Type of women
Some writing
World traveling Type of queens
My family raised me
poem by Courtney Jones
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The Clan (Chapter 33, Verses 35, Holy Koran)
I ask for refuge to Allah from Satan the exiled evildoer.
In the name of Allah the Kind and the Merciful Giver.
Surely the men who surrender to the will of God
And the women who surrender to the will of God
The faithful men and the faithful women
The obeying men and the obeying women
The truthful men and the truthful women
The patient men and the patient women
The humble men and the humble women
The almsgiving men and the almsgiving women
The fasting men and the fasting women
The men who guard their private parts
And the women who guard
The men who remember Allah very much
And the women who remember Him hard
Allah has made ready for them forgiveness and a great reward.
poem by Asif Andalib
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Drawing A River
when you draw a river
the river begins
to draw also a fish
the fish shall
sketch a moss
the moss
paints the missing
green
then you have what
your river wants
a place where you
want to
ponder about a sky
come to think again
now draw
a very white sky
take a pen and a very
wide paper....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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