En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Overflowing Manifestations

the years beyond our fingers
have taught us
more than what we can imagine
piercing walls
breaking ceilings

the windows are amazed
the stairs disassemble
and walk as feet

who can estimate the
emptiness of the container?
what amount of voluminous
sighs can it contain?

has anybody underestimated
man's nearness to his God?

has anybody explained the
contagion of divinity?

who is the doubter? who is
the man who was never thrown
into the oblivion of doubt?

we have evolved we have conquered
we have overshot this meteor existence

the silence is solid
the depth is never told

we are through with the test of
the circus
we have changed costumes
we are in this reality now

of a fantasy beyond fantasies
a tiny light rising from the slits
of the blinding expectations

we ourselves are amazed
we are beyond containment

the overflowing grace manifests in the songs
that our journeys are singing to the nights.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Empty Cup, After...

honestly, it was not the tea
that pleased me

its odor and taste
after all those years
the tea finally bored me
there is no more joy in the sipping
no pleasure anymore
in the vapor

this is a little bit surprising
honestly, it is the emptiness of the cup
the hollow space
around its mouth
into its base
that depth of unfathomable silence

that in no end
pleases me,

amazed, i am intrigued
plagued
into the explanation of the burden
that it has passed
to the fingers of my hands.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In That Place...

arriving there
we begin to change
we shed off
all shreds
all colors of expectations

we have learned
that we do not really need
the rainbow
neither its tail end
nor its bridge

we are met with the
substance
of having to hold on to
a horizon
without sun

the weight of
nothing
that gives no odor
that bears
no weight even
that of a feather

when we ask
how come that despite everything
the growing and blooming
there is still
the quintessence of an
existence

we are only embraced by those
incomplete arms
hands without fingers
face without eyes

yet somehow we are amazed
it is the face that sees everything
it is the arms that is warmer
without those fingers

with all the feelings of wants
we have become less of what we are
when we have shed
everything like all the leaves of those trees
we have met the essence of space
the comfort of the wind
the soothing silence

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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From Summer To Autumn...

in doubt i found the faith,
that leaves know when they turn and fall...
however, i am amazed at their silence,
and the courage that turns their pain to winter.
how many winters oh my soul?
and be there a spring for each one?
and how do i pen this silence,
that just changed me from summer to autumn?

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Just 'Another' Day

Always...
There will be,
New songs with a singing sung.
And memories to remember done,
Until those who have them...
Take them away,
From this reality with their leaving.

Always...
There will be many who will never appreciate,
The dawn they have been given...
To view as just 'another' day.

Noon until Sunset,
With stars seen twinkling freely...
To cast our hopes and dreams upon,
Bring yawns to some.
Without a gazing upon the Moonlight...
As bright as it is shown to come.

Others will be amazed,
They have been blessed to witness life this way.

And yet,
There will be some amongst us left...
Who could care less how selfish they are.
And thoughtless,
To express a thankfulness.

Always...
There will be,
New songs with a singing sung.
And memories to remember done,
Until those who have them...
Take them away,
From this reality with their leaving.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Ghosts Of Dawn

The Keeper Of The Kingdom Now Has Come Down So Down
To The Earth Below To A Blinding Glow
To A Sound To A Haunting Sound
It Now Can Be Seen It Was Man Not Machine It Was Man Just A Man
Amazed He Survived Amazed To Hear A Sigh
Is There Someone Else Here?
Feverish Laughter Breaks Upon Their Lips
The Tortured From The Hereafter Appear In His Midst
They Dance Whirling Around Him A Sirens Song His Fate
They Begin Singing Softly
"Death Comes To Those Who Hate, Death Comes To Those Who Wait"
"How Could You Lead Us On While You Stayed On High
How Could You Lead Us On To Stay Frozen In Time?"
"How Could I Lead Them On To Something They'd Never Find"
Why Did I Lead Them On To Something That Was Only In Mind?"
And Now He Fades Away

song performed by by ZeroHour
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Finding the Light

My world darkens as
Light surrounds me-
A wall has been erected between
Myself and this world-
Light surrounds me- I cannot reach-
I cannot reach beyond pathways towards oblivion-
A path exists before me, Straight and uphill-
The same path that I walk everyday- A pathway seemingly without and end-
Light surrounds me, So, I have been told- So many years have passed-
Promises for a future, a future filled with success-
Hope for a fine life – A sky without cloudiness,
Trees that grow tall and strong bearing flowers that shall never die-
Light surrounds me, I have been told- so,
Why do I only foresee bleakness and demise when
I have always been promised the sun to be rising about me?
This pathway I walk upon has been blocked
By mountains of madness, as along the way
I have drowned in pools of massive confusion,
While I feel hail and rain pounding against the very soul of my existence?
At the end of the road I walk- behind that wall that blocks my destination,
Awaits none but anger, mistrust and disappointment?
Light surrounds me, the light of promises,
The light of expectations, the light of hope-
The very same light that has blazed my spirit and my own rising sun has just burnt out?
My world is dark; I foresee no destiny-
Lightering has struck my tree of hope-
Fallen before me, blocking that same pathway
I walk everyday- I weep for that tree, now fallen, has perished-
I am now standing still as motionless as a marble statue, reflecting light
Which surrounds me and sears the core of my existence-
My tears are falling with the rain that has just taken over the light-
I am drowning in a pool of disarray and disbelief- as all I foresee is dimness-
That fallen tree casts shadows, obliterating my horizon?
Feeling my way through the mystifying haziness,
I begin to run without direction- singing melodies of my rekindled dreams, as
The rain stops and sunlight bursts through in all of its crystalline clarity-
My spirit is dancing atop those mountains of madness-
Being unable to discern veracity, I have lost myself inside the world of my delusions-
This is the world in which I have found a life and inside of which I can laugh and sing,
I see a different sort of light surrounding me now, and it no longer matters that
The flowers upon that fallen tree- have died, as I have found my own special flowers
Growing within a different frame of time and place…

poem by Claudia Krizay
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The Old Songs

There goes another one
Another happy couple on the road to emptiness
I think of my father and mother
Can they imagine how two people can get in this mess
But the old songs say - loves forever
And the old songs never say die
But a song cant keep us together
How can that beautiful song be a lie
Me I blame the old songs
Filling hearts with rebellion and romance
Our book of revelations
And all we had to do was dance
Play us another one
Play us the hopes and dreams of twenty years ago
Theyre all over the bloody radio
Its like theyre telling us theres nowhere left to go
And the old songs say - be my baby
And the old songs say - she loves you
All the songs well sing come what may be
I like those songs
But Id like something new
Me I blame the old songs
Protect us all against a change of course
All our great expectations
Turn to alimony and remorse

song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mocking Bird

and there it was on my roof again
mimicking the sound of the dreamer
it is singing the songs of fantasy
and sleepy
it forgets itself and becomes the dreamer

someone who was awake throughout the night
does not believe in dreams and fantasies
notices the difference between its voice and the dream song

gently he speaks of a homage
to a voice whose mouth had long been silenced
whose tongue was cut & thrown away
whose letters of his name was carved in stone

the mocking bird knows the difference
and then it turns its beak into utter silence
and then it flies away wanting to cut its wings.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Imagine That

Imagine That
Close your eyes...
Now relax your mind...
Now I want you to picture yourself
Far, far away
(You know your thoughts inside, girl we're 'bout to take a ride)
I don't want you to have a care in the world right now
(Let it go, let it go, let it go, aw yeah)
It's just you... and me
In this moment
Quiet... listen...
Baby take your mind into a zone
Imagine that we're all alone
2-way's off and our friends are gone
Now picture you and me gettin' it on
Take my hand and come with me
Let's indulge in fantasies
Cast your cares and worries
And slowly fall into this ecstasy
I'm gonna rub your body so baby just relax
You've been pourin' out your lovin' and now it's time to pour it back
Imagine that
Imagine that, imagine that, imagine that, imagine (all night long)
Imagine that
Me strokin' your body, imagine that
Imagine that, imagine that, imagine that, imagine (ohh-ho)
Imagine that
Whipped cream and strawberries, know what I mean?
Imagine that, imagine that, imagine that, imagine (ohh-ohh)
Imagine that
Candles and oils surrounding the bed
Imagine that, imagine that, imagine that, imagine (ohh-ho)
Imagine that
And me kissin' your body from feet to head
Imagine that
We don't have to talk
Ohh lay your body here, and watch my fingers walk
Take a second... and imagine the opportunity
You and me sharin' sexual energy
Now girl just meditate on you bein' in this chair
Now close your eyes and act like we're not even here
Girl I'm gonna rub your body so baby just relax
You've been pourin' out your lovin' and now it's time to pour it back
Imagine...
Ima

song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What You Lack Is The Simplicity Of Reality

my hands on the keyboard
on ten fingers
my eyes do not look for the letters
the letters find
me, i am amazed by this kind
of arrangement
on the simplicity of reality having
a life of its own
letters like bees having a cell
of its own
syllables having a mouth
speaking about what they can do
in a poem

i take this matter lightly
there is no rush
this is not a matter of life and death
but merely a way of letting time pass
beyond our
boundaries

i give in to what is beyond me
i empty myself of its contents
the mouth of my bottle
sings of emptiness

this is the simplicity of reality
it speaks
about nothing.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Something' Is Obvious About It

There is a lot of emptiness these days.
People are trying to fill up these spaces,
As quickly as possible.
Unsatisfied with themselves and where they are.
And doing the best they can not to find blame.
Or be ashamed to discover they are alone!
Whether from failed relationships.
Or a disappointed lifestyle,
They had to strip away from!
Or vice versa!
Either way...
There is a lot of emptiness these days.
And reality is not fooling around.
Delusions are at a premium!
And few seem to be able to keep them around.
Planting one's feet on the ground...
To feel some Earth below them,
Is highly recommended.
There is a lot of emptiness these days.
And if anyone is seeking companionship...
Or someone else that has been around the block.
Make sure that person has done that,
And climbed a few skyscrapers as well.
The chances you will see eye to eye...
May not be all that difficult!
Especially...
After the mind has been cleared of fantasies.
And that has been agreed upon.
With a maturity,
That does not have not to be convinced.
'Something' is obvious about it!
There is a lot of emptiness these days.
And few seem to be pointing fingers,
At anyone with or without a consciousness.
What 'is' does not provide escapes for anyone!
Everyone is either holding...
Or pacing with a racing breath.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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An Occurence....

when things go awry
like some plates flying out of the kitchen
breaking their faces on the floor
one day
or in some other days of your liking
you become so engrossed
in your silence
your hands begin to pick up the pieces
pondering
the mind probes deeper
into some
recesses of memories long buried
in those layers of years
and then
your feet begins to decide to walk away
silence no longer
synonymous with silence
sounding more
like some winds wishing
for swan
songs....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In 29 years, I had recorded over 2,200 songs. I was amazed.

quote by Kate Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tears Of The Sun

What eternal emptiness
Dances on the stage of time?
This shadow
Hanging over the one
Whose emerging breast
I gracefully kissed
Oh dearest Africa!

For you
The flapping fan of war
Lay on my forehead
Sorrow occupy my eyes
Driving out tears

These chameleon faces
Tear me to tears
All for Mother Earth’s relativity
Quest to subdue
The fire wood of this world

Oh the herb of forgiveness
Listen to the deep pause of Africa
Listen to her forgotten villages

Be not amazed oh Mother Earth
Over this riddle of existence
Be not amazed over Africa
Alas!
Life everlasting
Shall again spring
From her seed

poem by Happy Oyamenda Friday
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Essence, Essence, Essence

i am learning and i am learning everyday
some truths keep coming like uninvited guests
my stairs are dirty the soil and mud keep coming
the living room is crowded and there are words everywhere
on the arms of the chairs on the tables on the doors some words hang themselves, and i am not really at a loss, i am just amazed

last night i promised myself to close the door and the windows
and live a life of my own the following morning
but it is not at all that simple,
the house is lonely and if it decides to close
all openings and seal all its rooms,
how can the house breathe?
let all these truths come, let them take the forms of poetry
let them have the rose of the prose, the say of an essay, the narrations
of the long novel,
for now i have changed and have preferred once more
to give in and to listen
my ears are wide like highways
my eyes as attentive as lighthouses
my feet patient as shoes waiting to be worn again

i am a bowl and i let the rain come inside me
they pour in like forms of bliss
they fill me
i do not break
i only overflow and then everyday
the sun takes every part that i save
and i become empty again

i am the passive recipient,
i am the spectator
they all reveal themselves as i watch
in wonder
i count my fingers
i sleep with all my dreams
in darkness in light
i am back to this wanton wander

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Am Not Afraid Of Emptiness

i may not have told you, but now i will tell it to you
three times,

girl, i am not afraid of emptiness
the one that walks upon you when you were once this huge
space like a Gothic church with doors like mountains and windows
like continents

the sound of emptiness reverberates like a tin cup
that falls on the iron rails of this room

it fills every nerve that coils upon itself and forms a hand gripping
for waterfalls

it closes the ears and rips every rational entries that your eyes
write in the pages of your journal

it encloses you like a mental jacket of that new patient
at ward 6,
it walls you in like you are a chair inside the congested kitchen

look, who likes the congestion of the spirits?
who likes the choking of the nicks of time?

who likes a light imprisoned in its own flames
burning itself upon itself like a candle consuming both of its ends?

who like the mezzanine filled with letters that you keep
containing love stories of suicide and escape?

look upon your face too crowded with your senses?
it is a forest with trees killing each other for an ounce of light

roots upon roots and leaves upon leaves this world is too crowded
with unraveling thoughts

i am not afraid of emptiness
i like my windows opening all the days of my life
i like doors without locks
stairs without rails, houses without walls and roofs

i live in open space and yes right here inside my heart
i thrive in its empty spaces without the nerves and the veins

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In the World of Frail-Brick Words

I diligently built a solid world of
Frail-brick-words around you
When winds of fear
Uproot me from
All possible directions
I cling to your torso
In this solid world
Of frail-brick-words

Going round and round
In the square fantasy of yours
I always miss the centre
In this solid world
Of frail-brick-words

You're always on look out
To live a fantasy; travelled against
Time to reach my solid world
Of frail-brick-words
Expecting to drench yourself
In raining silver droplets

I traversed across
Terrains unknown to you
Sipping at the venom of
Reality for vigour, investing
Every nth part with an aura
Of fantasy in the solid world
Of frail-brick-words

Midway
We met

Between you and I
The dichotomy of
Your fantasy
My reality
Opened a newer dimension
Of realantasy to grapple with
Ah, this solid world
Of frail-brick-words!

In my snatches of proximity(?)
To the threshold of your world
I sought my own happiness
My very own sorrow...
The slightly opened door
Blended excellently
The lethal reality with
Honey-oozing fantasy
To brew a magic potion
To savour in my solitude
In this solid world
Of frail-brick-words

Every touch of your fingers
Hoisted flags of unexpressed sorrow
That rustled in every other life

Whoever said,
Life and living is
A cuppa one relaxes with?

You know
Those lucky, get a door
Opened to live a fantasy, at least
For a wink and there just in that
Fleeting moment of time
You traveled against time to grab
And encase yourself in a dropp of silver
Within the coarsely granulated
World of my frail-brick-words

In this solid world
Of frail-brick-words
The gush of words
You released on my wrinkling skin
Arrange themselves time and again
As what the world calls poetry
The words flip flap against
My make-believe-sky
And in the solid tomb where
I rest forever irrespective of seasons
Where pain or pleasure
Can no longer touch me

Ah, my very own solid world
Of frail-brick-words...

poem by Indira Babbellapati
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These Walls

If these walls could talk,
I wonder what what would they say
Would they thank me for being painted
Or will they ask me, to wash the paint away.
Would they tell me of the pictures
That once hung upon them their
Pictures that once adorn those walls
Or I wonder would they even care.
Would they speak upon the stories
That was heard within these walls
That no one else even knows about,
That is if the stories these walls could recall.
Was there children laughter all about
Or any secrets heard and being told
I wonder what have they listened to
And I wonder if anyone will ever know.
These walls inside this house
That for years have stood alone
With the stories that was told and heard
While this house had became a home.
The Sadness that they might had seen
And the worries and sorrow that they felt
Maybe they don't want to remember it at all
And maybe they too keep it bottled upon their self.
Were they painted to cover up secrets
Was they battered as to protect someone's lies
Or were they wallpapered to cover up the truth
And did they hear the whispers and the cries.
These walls they are still standing
Through the years of the days and nights
While listening and knowing all done and said
In the darkness and also in the light.
I look at these walls just one last time
As I head home from my walk,
How I wish I knew what they heard and know,
But that is, if these walls could only talk.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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How Does One Hear The Echoes Of Silence?

silence. Does not speak, silence is dead.
it is buried underneath the mouth,
and simply rots there, like dust,
with worms. It will be the worms
that shall utter silence, but at the end
silence is devoured
and gone.

what you hear and see is this
emptiness. it has feet and walks in air.
and tinkers in space, some moods and
feelings, fleeing, fleeting,

this emptiness speaks a lot
some words turning themselves
from elves to giants to cyclops
to monsters of the universe
where this emptiness dwells

it is in my heart, always, resounding,
with lots of echoes as it reaches
the walls of the farthest planet
and comes back to me
like the twinkling of a star.

and then i am full.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Beginning Of Understanding

at a certain point when you begin to doubt
every word that i say
i start to believe that you are beginning to believe me
to understand what could have been understood from the point of doubt

you ask what if this is true and what if this is not
possibilities are beginnings

i begin to believe you
if you only know that the foundation of everything is doubt
a la Descartes
to the conclusion that you the doubter exist
and that is
the most certain thing possible under the heavy clouds of doubts.

i think i doubt, therefore i think the doubter exists.
it is the mind after all making a mind unto itself.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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