Petry En Masse
like bread in bakeries
like automobiles from factories
like pizzas in boxes for delivery
like ordinary figurines for sale
like drugs in the pharmacy
like pineapples in the farm
like apples in a basket
like inhalers in the nose
like manufactured gadgets
spoons and forks and kitchen utensils
mass produced
without the romance of the personalized work
the interaction of the mind
with the body and soul
must art be?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry En Masse
like bread in bakeries
like automobiles from factories
like pizzas in boxes for delivery
like ordinary figurines for sale
like drugs in the pharmacy
like pineapples in the farm
like apples in a basket
like inhalers in the nose
like manufactured gadgets
spoons and forks and kitchen utensils
mass produced
without the romance of the personalized work
the interaction of the mind
with the body and soul
must art be?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mass Production
like bread in bakeries
like automobiles from factories
like pizzas in boxes for delivery
like ordinary figurines for sale
like drugs in the pharmacy
like pineapples in the farm
like apples in a basket
like inhalers in the nose
like manufactured gadgets
spoons and forks and kitchen utensils
mass produced
without the romance of the personalized work
the interaction of the mind
with the body and soul
must art be?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Romance Bore Seduction
Hand blessed hand, caressed.
A blushing rose, her face;
Her breast alive;
The elfin nose, a diamond set -
A kiss upon perfection
Bore a rise of pulse
To coach a sultry moan
Across a mellow breath of wine.
He knew; he sensed,
And easing loose a clasp of lace,
Another sign of her relenting:
Wild the play of eyes,
A fuller glide of skin;
He felt the now begin -
Her swell, intention in the sigh.
And so to hedge his move upon the cue -
The cry of deep anticipation,
Waxing all he saw -
Tho' not for us to view -
Arrived, emotion raw.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
Now render to caressing waves of romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
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Romance romance romance romance
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Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When the Body Starts to Go Broke...
you complain of flu
time has now asked for an accounting
how your body is used
how is it abused
with so much work
and thoughts and stress and
waste
you think about drugs
and the possibility of a vaccine
i say there is more to it
we don't live by drugs alone
or bread
there is more to this tired body
this restless mind
go deeper
ask your heart
and listen
there is more to this sickness
the symptoms shout
asking for help
the prescription is right there
on those
vomit and allergies
sleep a while
let your dreams tell the story
let that voice tell you where you are
and where must you
go
next time
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Production Line
much is much and
so many is like sand sprawling
on the shore... so much so many
and one who lays her body on
the sandy shore
takes sand for granted just another
part of this mass production of
things in her ordinary world: rocks, pebbles, stones,
sands,
what value can there be on a speck of dust
a grain of sand
becomes like her sun, too ordinary for her sunburn-skin
what's got the sun to do with me?
or the sand?
her sunglasses speak for her
in the middle of her empty hours
basking under the sun
production some times, so much for so many
meaninglessness growing like fruits of the poisonous tree
i could have kept one, just one
kept it inside my heart, i could have known what is precious,
diamond, just one,
glittering in the darkest hour of my night.
but there is no one really, all i have are mass produced, and
like sand, i lay my body on the shore, spreading so thinly without
feelings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What To Do With An Empty Cup?
the presumption is
you have consumed the hotness of the tea
and now the cup is cold
and empty
at the state of emptiness
shall you break it? or shall you keep it instead
and not wipe it
because there is a mark of the lips
of the beloved
some do the cleaning
wipe out everything
the empty cup shines together
with the rest of the
utensils, spoons and forks and saucers
in the cabinet
the door of the cabinet is closed
and then they all do what has to be done
they move on
with the other more important events in their lives
from an empty cup
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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They're Red Hot
(Robert Johnson)
Hot tamales1 and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale
I got a girl, say she long and tall
She sleeps in the kitchen with her feets in the hall
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale, I mean
Yes, she got'em for sale, yeah
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale
She got two for a nickel, got four for a dime
Would sell you more, but they ain't none of mine
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale, I mean
Yes, she got'em for sale, yes, yeah
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale
I got a letter from a girl in the room
Now she got something good she got to bring home soon, now
Its hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got em for sale, I mean
Yes, she got'em for sale, yeah
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got em for sale
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got em for sale
[Spoken:] They're too hot boy!
The billy got back in a bumble bee nest
Ever since that he can't take his rest, yeah
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes you got'em for sale, I mean
Yes, she got'em for sale
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale
[Spoken:]
Man don't mess around em hot tamales now
'Cause they too black bad, if you mess around em hot tamales
I'm gonna upset your backbone, put your kidneys to sleep
I'll due to break away your liver and dare your heart to beat bout my
Hot tamales cause they red hot, yes they got
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Pizzas
TWO PIZZAS
Our kitchen is chill silent
today, this Friday afternoon -
four-burner prestige stove
stays mute, wiped so clean.
no activities seen
for the mid-day meal
wife and children are
chit- chatting in bed;
stories from Russia,
‘hithihasic kahanies'
tit-bits form weeklys
mock-trial make-ups
slowly, I entered in
to inquire the reason,
for a near hartal.
quickly, my wife replied
she has ordered ‘pizzas online'
two plus one, spicy chicken with some add-on
on fifty percent discount coupon
my childhood days were totally different
two pizzas are equal to two months' mess bill
a class iv servant will run his family whole month - but
my children are fortunate, father is a ‘ project leader'.
……two pizzas speaking of contrasting economies.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Kitty
I work in the mornin, I work in the night
The men on the block, they just laugh at me
I work in the mornin, I work in the night
The men on the block, they just laugh at me
But when theyre wiping their silver spoons
Palming the men for some bread,
Ill be laughing
Way, way out of my head!
When my little kitty gets out,
Theres gonna be a party, a party no doubt
When my little kitty gets out
Theres gonna be a party
And if my mind isnt coming so fast
The men on the block say Im on the brink
And if my mind isnt coming so fast
And I aint so dumb as some people think
cause when theyre wiping their silver spoons
Palming the men for some bread
Ill be laughing, way way out of my head
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prisoners
Though the road turn at last
to death’s ordinary door,
and we knock there, ready
to enter and it opens
easily for us,
yet
all the long journey
we shall have gone in chains,
fed on knowledge-apples
acrid and riddled with grubs.
We taste other food that life,
like a charitable farm-girl,
holds out to us as we pass—
but our mouths are puckered,
a taint of ash on the tongue.
It’s not joy that we’ve lost—
wildfire, it flares
in dark or shine as it will.
What’s gone
is common happiness,
plain bread we could eat
with the old apple of knowledge.
That old one—it griped us sometimes,
but it was firm, tart,
sometimes delectable ...
The ashen apple of these days
grew from poisoned soil. We are prisoners
and must eat
our ration. All the long road
in chains, even if, after all,
we come to
death’s ordinary door, with time
smiling its ordinary
long-ago smile.
poem by Denise Levertov
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Love For Sale
If you walk in the red light at night
In the black velvet hour
If you look you will see their delight
Theyre the purest of flowers
Theyve got love for sale
The money they earn when everybody wants them
Money for pleasure, pleasure and pain
Theyve got love for sale
Money and sex, addicted to drugs
Pleasure and pain c together they walk
Money and sex, addicted to drugs
Pleasure and pain c together they walk
What they get is addicted to drugs
To ease all their sorrows
What they get is addicted to drugs
To ease all their sorrows
Theyve got love for sale
The money they earn when everybody wants them
Money for pleasure, pleasure and pain
Theyve got love for sale
Illusions for your mind
They are just illusions for your mind...
Theyve got love for sale
The money they earn when everybody wants them
Money for pleasure, pleasure and pain
Theyve got love for sale
Money and sex, addicted to drugs
Pleasure and pain c together they walk
Money and sex, addicted to drugs
Pleasure and pain c together they walk
song performed by by Ace Of Base
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Picture Of Greed
on one hand
he carries a
big loaf of bread
on the other
he carries a
basket
of the same
loaf of bread
on his head
is another
basket of
the same loaf
of bread
a little child
spreads his
hands for
a loaf of bread
then he speeds
his way
as he bites
a loaf of
bread in
his mouth
the little child
follows him
and there he
is closing the
door of his
house all
made of bread
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Aint Gonna Work On Maggies Farm No More
(bob dylan)
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I wake up every morning
Hold my hands and pray for rain
Ive got a head full of ideas
Driving me insane
Its a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor
Well, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
Well, I aint gonna work for maggies brother no more
I aint gonna work for maggies brother no more
He hands you a nickel
He hands you a dime
He asks you and your friends
If youre having a good time
He blames you every time you slam the door
Well, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
Well, I aint gonna work for maggies pa no more
I aint gonna work for maggies pa no more
He stubs his cigarette out in your face just for kicks
His bedroom window is made out of bricks
And the national guard are standing at his door
Well, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
Well, I aint gonna work for maggies mother no more
I aint gonna work for maggies mother no more
She talks to all the servants about man and God and law
And everybody swears shes the brains behind pa
Shes sixty-eight, but claims shes twenty-four
Well, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
Well, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I try so hard to be just who I am
But everybody wants you to be just like them
They say see, while youre playing I get bored ? ?
Well, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Escape
At times you want
To escape
Yourself,
You think
May be
Switching on the
TV set will work.
But it doesn’t,
So I head
For the kitchen
And bake a fresh loaf of bread,
A new recipe from my kitchen shelf.
It takes me
Out of myself.
Cooking I find always helps
It uplifts my mood,
And ah, the aroma of fresh food.
It whets my appetite,
And I get some respite
From the chaos
In my mind.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Gravitas
Sir?
I hate to disturb you.
And your meditations.
Sir...
Remember those people,
Who ostracized you?
A few years ago.
Do you remember them?
'Like a prostrate exam.
Why? '
You will not believe this.
But,
They are at the door.
'What door? '
Your door.
This one.
'Uh...um..uh.'
Sir?
Incredible as this may seem.
They still wear those same outfits.
The ballroom attire.
The gowns and tuxedos.
But...
They are torn and tattered.
They look dreadful.
'Uh...I..I..um.'
And...They carry a huge basket of assorted fruits.
A case of champagne.
With a bouquet of the most fantastic flowers,
I have not seen since the passing of Princess Diana.
'What are they upto I wonder? '
They 'say' they are hoping you forgive them.
Not only for ruining your life.
But the years of the backstabbing,
Character assassinations done against you.
When you attempted to persuade them,
Their lives were being endangered.
By their negligence.
And they've come to offer heartfelt respect.
'What kind of apples were in the basket?
Any Empire or MacIntosh?
Walnuts or cashews?
Bananas? Tangerines? Pineapples? '
Uh...yeeeaaah.
'Great.
The gravitas of the moment escapes my tongue.
I think there is a sewing kit in the pantry.
Give it to them.
I can get another one.'
And?
'Close the door.
Bring me the basket.
Take what you want.'
Sir?
Are you malaised,
With no gravitas?
Is there something else you wish to say.
Something you wish of them to ask?
'No.
Oh...
Yes there is.
Remind me to remove the baked chicken,
From the oven in twenty minutes.'
That's it?
'You can hand me a MacIntosh.
I can't wait to sink my teeth in it! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Move Your Body
Album: Eternal (2001)
I like you, Ronnie
Come here, shorty
Back it up right over here, baby
(Back it up right over here)
Right there (Yeah, slow)
Don't move (You got a body on you, baby)
Work your body (Work your body)
You got a body baby, see some things
(Can you do your thing, baby)
Lord, have mercy
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I like that
Right like that, right like that
Like that, like that
Work it, work it, work it, work it
[Chorus]
I like the way you move your body
So soft and so gentle
You're moving your body
I like the way you move your body
Move your body (Move your body)
Move your body (Move you're body)
You've got that thing that drives me crazy
Girl, can we go half on a baby
I'll be your freak, you be my lady
Cuz it's your hips, your thighs, your lips, your eyes
Girl, would you be my private dancer
You're all I need, you got the answer
Girl, you're my heat, you're my fire
Cuz it's your hips, your thighs, your lips, you're eyes
[Chorus]
Inside my mind, you got me trippin'
Inside my head, I see you strippin'
Tap it just right and I'll be tippin'
Your hips, your thighs, your lips, your eyes
You got that thing that drives me crazy
Girl, can we go half on a baby
You got me wondering who's that lady
Your hips, your thighs, your lips, your eyes
You know
[Chorus]
Play it, Earnie
Oh, yeah babe, baby
I like the way, sho' 'nuff I like it
I like the way, you know I like it there
I like the way, sho' 'nuff I like it
I like the way, you know I like it
[Johnson Sisters]
Dance with me, come on dance with me baby
Dance with me, make romance with me baby
Dance with me, come on dance with me baby
Dance with me, make romance with me baby
Dance with me, come on dance with me baby
Dance with me, make romance with me baby
Dance with me, come on dance with me baby
Dance with me, make romance with me baby
Oh baby, shake your body, baby (Whoa)
Come on, shake your body, baby (Whoa)
Come on, whew, shake your body, baby (Whoa)
Come on, oh shake it, baby (Whoa)
Come on move, move
Dance with me, come on dance with me baby
Dance with me, make romance with me baby
Dance with me, come on dance with me baby
Dance with me, make romance with me baby
song performed by by Isley Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Education Here
i agree that this educational system
is another kind of factory
persons of the same age at packed
in batches
designed for a common end
some have to be discarded as
nothing but useless commodities
others are displayed priced high
and for sale,
there is no more that person
so considered for his innate qualities
there is no more collaboration in solving a problem
lest it be considered by the university rules
as cheating
all minds think the same
on standardized testings
those that think otherwise shall be junked
by the system
and so there is no other Einstein
nobody original
all mass produced
certified for mass consumption.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She Ain't Your Ordinary Girl
(Robert Jason)
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
She don't love carelessly that's what I've always heard
'Can't use the usual lines she measures every word
No empty promises proof is what it takes to win her heart
The truth and nothing less, simple things that set her far apart
Save your diamonds and your furs she's not your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary, no she's not
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary, oh no
She ain't your ordinary girl
No midnight alibis, no foolish games for her
And if you cross the line you'll get what you deserve
But when you see her smile nothing seems to matter anymore
And in a little while you'll feel like you've never felt before
Like no other in the world, she's not your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary, no she's not
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary, oh no
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
Save your diamonds and your furs, she ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hearts For Sale
My spirit is winging
My soul is free
I'm doing my drinking
In good company
The music's screaming
My feet are flying
Everybody's laughing
And nobody's crying
Sneak suspicion
It drags me down
A nagging feeling
Going round
Hearts for sale
Going cheap
Hearts for sale
Lovers' leap
My belly's full
My glass is brimming
The women look so beautiful
And I feel like singing
The voice of conscience
The voice of reason
Is yacking in my plans
I call that treason
Hearts for sale
Going cheap
Hearts for sale
Blood runs deep
I'm losing my willpower
My blood's running cold
My body's on pause
My mind's stuck on hold
There ain't nothing I can do about it
Sneak suspicion
It drags me down
Nagging feeling
Going round
Hearts for sale
Going cheap
Hearts for sale
Blood runs deep
Hearts for sale
I don't need a doctor
I need a deputation
You don't want my loving
You can just take my resignation
I'm under the hammer
I'm a full time worker
I'm a real body slammer
song performed by by Rolling Stones from Steel Wheels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Are Friends For? Really?
they are not goods, neither are they chattels,
neither are they investments something that you
sell, or buy, or make as a security for
an undertaking,
they are not taken for some schemes,
for some needs, like the need to be in
or just let the hours pass by, beating boredom
and fatigue,
they are not puppets where you pull them with
your strings from your fingers
neither are they muppets that you put
in your hands
they are not your tools like shovels and
pliers, neither are they your utensils for eating
like spoons and forks,
they are not the notes in your diary
or the dog ears in your book
or the things-to-be-done
they serve no ends, they are not measures,
when they come and you share your time with them
they make hours irrelevant
they make life livable, they make you belong to
a beautiful world where the birds are singing,
where the clouds drift, where the rivers flow,
where the skies are bluer than blue
they make the sun smile and they
make the moon speak and they make the
pond teem with fish
and foremost, as they all say,
they also tell you who you are.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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