Seemingly You Like The Grey Area
i admit i live there. I live
in the places of dawn
and twilights where
i have learned to
tinker about anything.
there are exceptions
and exemptions there.
it is no longer black
or white, or
either/or, it is a ray
a rainbow of
possibilities. I embrace
gradients.
it is the meeting place
of lost elements
when they do not fit
they come
looking lost and then
they say they finally
find a home.
here they are accepted
there they are excepted.
not that black and whites
are not acceptable. No.
and Yes. Not that.
it is, 'it can be'
it is always here a
myriad possibility
where you become
yourself that way
you want it. Taste.
Smell. Tick and Lick.
Imagination so powerful.
Unlimited thoughts.
Impossibilities becoming
possibilities.
This is the grey area.
I live here. I am happier.
Do you know where this is?
Come. Undress their colors.
And know at first that in here
color does not matter
they mix, and there
is no limit to their
shades and pastels.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
The Grey Areas: Revised
they think and teach you
that black is black and white is white
that either you are moral or immoral
that either you leave or stay
that either you die or live
that there are only choices of
either/or
they tell you do not do this
do not do that
do only this and that
they prohibit you and tell you
it is for your own good
as though they are gods
and you are the dogs
an old man with bright eyes
asks me to go near him
and he says: try the middle of things
it is not just black or white but
there are shades and shades of choices
in between
in there everything is allowed.
the grey areas. the exceptions. the exemptions.
try them. they are all exciting. like the colors of the rainbow
like the patches of red, and orange and blue and pink
you see, who is telling you that there are no other colors
than black and white?
i am neither good nor bad.
In truth, i am just myself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Grey Areas
they think and teach you
that black is black and white is white
that either you are moral or immoral
that either you leave or stay
that either you die or leave
that there are only choices of either/or
they tell you do not do this
do not do that
they prohibit you and tell you
it is for your own good
as though they are gods
and you are the dogs
an old man with bright eyes
asked me to go near him
and he says: try the middle of things
it is not just black or white but there are shades and shades of choices
in there everything is allowed.
the grey areas. the exceptions. the exemptions.
try them. they are all exciting. like the colors of the rainbow
like the patches of red, and orange and blue and pink
you see, who is telling you that there are no other colors
than black and white?
i am neither good nor bad. In truth, i am just myself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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After All The Years In The Study Of Black And White
after all the years of studying black and white
two exclusive colors in the place where you live and thrive
for 48 years
you suddenly come accidentally to a place that your heart
had always known but had never been there
perhaps only in its wildest dream
it is the place of the leaf where it can become a river
the haven of the stars where they can turn into butterflies
the space of the fish where they wish to become dragons
and many more
the place of your imagination
where you can be anything in anywhere at anytime
all those white and black years have turned you into a stone
now you must start to recall how to grow a pair of eyes
to see the brighter shades of every color there
the place of your imagination
and be color blind no more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Shades of Grey
Black is the color of the night
Grey is the shadow of you I sight
White is the shirt you wear
Black is your suit I declare
White is the wall you lean against
Grey is our path I sensed
Black is the memory I lost
Black is the road we never crossed
Grey is the prospect of the day
Grey is the taxi driving away
Black is the truth to never find you
Black is everything I can't undo
Black is my room without light
White is my color of hope in spite
Grey is the circle around my heart
Black is the truth like a work of art
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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We Dream In Color
Dream sequence
(wake up, wake up, wake up, time to dream)
(wake up, time to dream)
We dream, we dream, we dream in color
Wake me up in the middle of the night, tell me what youve seen
Ivory clouds in a sea of blue, fields of endless green
But we lie here and we search for stars
Or big bad letters all the way from mars
The sky is black and the moon is pale, and we cry for this world of ours
In the dark we still believe (oh you know that we still believe)
In the dark we see
Chorus:
We dream in color - but we live in black and white
We dream in color - like a rainbow in the night
We dream of peace, we dream of love, but still the dream is not enough
We dream in color
Oh yes we dream
I wake up in the middle of the day, locked within this cell
The sun is weak on the gun gray street, a cold and concrete hell
So I close my eyes and remember the days
Of a blood red sky and a purple haze
The flag was yours and the flag was mine, but we let it fade away
In the dark we still believe (oh you know that we still believe)
In the dark we see
We dream in color - but we live in black and white
We dream in color - like a rainbow in the night
We dream of peace, we dream of love, but still the dream is not enough
We dream in color
(guitar solo)
This is where it all comes down, this is where the truth is found
Someones gotta keep this dream alive
We dream in color - but we live in black and white
We dream in color - like a rainbow in the night
We dream of peace, we dream of love, we dream of life!
We dream in color
We dream in color - we dream, yes we dream
We dream in color - but we live in black and white
We dream in color - and hold on to each other
We dream in color - lover to lover, sister to brother, we hold on
We dream in color
We dream in color - we dream
We dream in color - we dream...
song performed by by Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am a man of black and white
I am a man of black and white,
my name is written on the gates of the sky.
i am a man of black and white
my origin is united, yet two apart.
I speak the language of the whites,
but lost in the language of the blacks.
i am a man of black and white,
my resemblance is same with the blacks.
I am a man of black and white,
i was brought up in the land of the whites.
i am a man of black and white,
my home is in the south-east, in the abode of my black dad.
I am a man of black and white,
i love the aspirations of life.
i am a man of black and white,
although two apart, we are united as one.
poem by Randy Micheal
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This I Tell With A Sigh
THERE IS a name
alright
they baptize us with
a name
we had no choice the
but to be born
and then die
if we must even if we
do not allow it
but in between this
spaciousness
of life and death
there is an existence
of myriad possibilities
that give us
a sense of freedom
i am at this place
now
thrown in this situation
and i am doing most
of what i can
to call myself free
tomorrow when
the same sun that set
rises again
i proclaim without
timidity
that i am still here
with all my
options
to live and to live again
never to choose death
that kills
all my possibilities
the door that closes in
saying that it will open
again
but you see
it is different there
altogether
this is it
i must devour all
to be whole again
to keep the pieces
intact
within my soul
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I am a rose
What color am I? Am I red, pink, white, oh wait I am black...
Black is the color of many dark secret places and or ideas, which we may never want to enter...
So why do I feel like I am a black rose? Do I have secrets hidden so deep that no one can even sense them?
I wish I were a red and or a white rose. Those two colors can mean many of things but what you find the most is that of marriage...
Red is the color of love and white is the color in which we use mostly for a wedding. I want my darkness to turn to light. With my color of a rose may the light bring out a marriage...
I am a rose of many colors which one are you? ? ?
poem by Kristen Palmitier
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Black and White (Stream XV)
I have black thoughts,
It is a black day,
A day when the black dog
Coal black, hovers at my shoulder.
I shoulder the burden.
Deep in the black hole.
Black as a black hearted night.
Negative.
Stark.
Black and white.
I do not call my good days white days.
Why?
Or have white thoughts
On a white day,
When the white dog
Pure white sits upon my shoulder.
Which is unburdened.
Out of the pit,
Luxuriating in the bright white light;
White as the purest snow.
Positive.
For we live in a too white world
Maybe we should have grey days,
And light days.
Why should Black be negative and White poitive?
For me then, today is a grey day.
Maybe tomorrow will be a light day.
Copyright P H Brookes 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
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Black+White=My Life
Black-
The color of my soul
White-
The color of my spirit
Together Black and White combined
It all equals my life
The 2 only colors
That are not really colors at all
The story of my life
I am alone
I die slowly and painfully
Not a care in the world
Where I would end up
If only I would survive...
Black-
The color of my Heart
White-
The color of my Hopes and Dreams
Together again Black and White reunite as one
As you can tell
The 2 only colors of my life are Black and White
As if you care
You rather see me suffer in vain
You keep heaeing me say I am alone
Well now you know its true
poem by Makayla Straight
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384
how i wish the world is blind to see me naked and broken
they always say
ever since i was small
this little boy is ugly
he will not have a promising future
(did they think that i better be thrown
to the sea and be eaten by sharks
or to the forest so i can be the prey
to those predators?)
they let me live, however,
thanks, nonetheless, and i have grown to be what i am
ugly
learning to live this way
ugly
time however has told me a different story
about the ugliness that lies only on the surface of
things, and living memories have grown in me
the seeds
some possibilities
for beauty
like i can grow a mind of my own
like i can be cultivated like a beautiful flower
of my choosing
in my own garden
like i can have the possibility of
a sweet scent
or i can be a slender plant that will bear
some luscious fruits
to feed the world and make it feel
that i can
quench its thirst
or satisfy its hunger
i have learned patiently
how to be a better possibility and long time ago
when i undressed myself
removing some layers of sadness
and confusion
skin upon skin upon skin
i was once afraid of everything
the windows
the cracks and the crevices
i was once afraid of the hundred eyes of this world
those walls barring me
those writings on the fences of my existence
shouting that
i am ugly
(that i do not have the right to live
or anything to live with)
i go naked again
time places another mirror at the center of my
thoughts,
to see another me
i am beautiful
in my nakedness
now, i do not wish anymore a blind world
so it can see the unfolding
the coming of my
thousand possibilities like some kind winds
white sea caps and gentle sands,
i am beautiful and i really know it now
by heart
this confident soul undressed and still so beautiful.
that you, my lovely world,
must start to see.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Black & Whites
So many choices in my life these days
So much confusion, so many shades of gray
That sometimes I don't know
My left from my right
But I've got these old black and whites
Well, I'm every color that you can paint
A father, a lover, a mother, a sinner and a saint
From Sunday morning, to Saturday night
I've got these old black and whites
Under the spotlight or all alone at midnight
I know I'm right where I belong
It always unwinds me, it finds me then reminds me
That life is as simple as a song
Lovers, they come and surely they go
They fly you so high, say hello, say goodbye
And they leave you low
But that's all right here in these songs that I write
Right here on these old black and whites
So roll over Beethoven
Cause ol' Phil could use some room
I may be out of time and may be out of tune
But you know how it feels to pour out your life
Right here on these old black and whites
Livin life in black and white
song performed by by Phil Vassar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black And Whites
So many choices in my life these days
So much confusion, so many shades of gray
That sometimes I don't know
My left from my right
But I've got these old black and whites
Well, I'm every color that you can paint
A father, a lover, a mother, a sinner and a saint
From Sunday morning, to Saturday night
I've got these old black and whites
Under the spotlight or all alone at midnight
I know I'm right where I belong
It always unwinds me, it finds me then reminds me
That life is as simple as a song
Lovers, they come and surely they go
They fly you so high, say hello, say goodbye
And they leave you low
But that's all right here in these songs that I write
Right here on these old black and whites
So roll over Beethoven
Cause ol' Phil could use some room
I may be out of time and may be out of tune
But you know how it feels to pour out your life
Right here on these old black and whites
Livin life in black and white
song performed by by Phil Vassar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How I Wish The World Does Not Have A Hundred Eyes To See Me Naked
how i wish the world is blind to see me naked and broken
they always say
ever since i was small
this little girl is ugly
she will not have a promising future
(did they think that i better be thrown
to the sea and be eaten by sharks
or to the forest so i can be the prey
to those predators?)
they let me live, however,
thanks, nonetheless, and i have grown to be what i am
ugly
learning to live this way
ugly
time however has told me a different story
about the ugliness that lies only on the surface of
things, and living memories have grown in me
the seeds
some possibilities
for beauty
like i can grow a mind of my own
like i can be cultivated like a beautiful flower
of my choosing
in my own garden
like i can have the possibility of
a sweet scent
or i can be a slender plant that will bear
some luscious fruits
to feed the world and make it feel
that i can
quench its thirst
or satisfy its hunger
i have learned patiently
how to be a better possibility and long time ago
when i undressed myself
removing some layers of sadness
and confusion
skin upon skin upon skin
i was once afraid of everything
the windows
the cracks and the crevices
i was once afraid of the hundred eyes of this world
those walls barring me
those writings on the fences of my existence
shouting that
i am ugly
(that i do not have the right to live
or anything to live with)
i go naked again
time places another mirror at the center of my
thoughts,
to see another me
i am beautiful
in my nakedness
now, i do not wish anymore a blind world
so it can see the unfolding
the coming of my
thousand possibilities like some kind winds
white sea caps and gentle sands,
i am beautiful and i really know it now
by heart
this confident soul undressed and still so beautiful.
that you, my lovely world, must start to see.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Can I Dry Clean?
washing the clean linen in dirty water,
makes the clothes to be dirty and colored,
white clothe will invite the color of contrast,
color of the water that it is dipped into.
When we think of the ills and manipulate with evils,
the souls that are born white, will be colored,
when we wash the evil thoughts in evil solutions,
our souls will be soiled, colored and in illusion.
believing the color that we possess is the brightest,
If it is the brightest of white, as white is pure,
then it is all right, even if we are in other colors,
don't worry, it can be bleached to white.
White and black are two extreme colors,
with extreme characters and properties,
when the white reflects everything as good actions,
the black absorbs everything as the mother nature.
Between these two colors,
there are thousands of colors,
blending of seven colors of rain bow,
where we live and be happy and sorrow.
Washing the clean linen of any color,
in the water of dirt and sediment,
will make the linen dirty and soiled,
Where shall we find the clean water,
to wash our dirty souls of multiple colors?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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In Our Black And White World...
in our black and
white world
play me a song
of the rainbow
strum me your
guitar
and let me live
on multicolored
notes
i too shall sing
the colors of
my own world
and you may listen
both of us
shall paint
this black and white world
with the shades
of our hopes
pastel blue
light green
bright red
shining gold.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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White And Black
He painted a picture all white and black
because in his life all color did he lack.
He lacked the yellow of the sun each day
for the sun had never come his way.
He lacked the green of fresh green grass
for the cement of the city he couldn't get past.
He lacked the blue of the sky above
for no one had ever showed him love.
He lacked the red that the rose did give
for no roses grew where he did live.
He lacked all color from his sight.
All he knew was black and white.
The picture he painted could never tell
of how his life was a living hell.
He'd lost his sight when he was three
and the colors were a lost memory.
His sole memory was of dark and light,
night being dark, day being white.
And now he created art to define
everything that was in his mind.
But beauty came from the paint he used.
The black and white became infused
with the extracted senses of who he was,
a man filled with passion for what he does.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Black And White
He painted a picture all white and black
because in his life all color did he lack.
He lacked the yellow of the sun each day
for the sun had never come his way.
He lacked the green of fresh green grass
for the cement of the city he couldn't get past.
He lacked the blue of the sky above
for no one had ever shown him love.
He lacked the red that the rose did give
for no roses grew where he did live.
He lacked all color from his sight.
All he knew was black and white.
The picture he painted could never tell
of how his life became a living hell.
He'd lost his sight when he was three
and the colors were a lost memory.
His sole memory was of dark and light,
night being dark, day being white.
And now he created art to define
everything that was in his mind.
But beauty came from the paint he used.
The black and white became infused
with the extracted senses of who he was,
a man filled with passion for what he does.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Rainbow
I live at one of those Grey Clouds
Not really know that I am lifeless
I heard people talking about rainbow,
They’d met each other, always in a happy occasion
I wish I met the rainbow myself
Then perhaps I would know,
What the people say is not true
That there is no thing such rainbow,
That could make people’s eyes glittering
In Blue color of the sky
In Green color of the valley
In Red color of the blood
In Yellow color of the sun
I am belongs to the Grey Clouds
I Love Grey, as it is all the color I have in life
Then one day, at the ticking time of my ordinary Grey-day
I see something really bright,
With the scent of a precious flower I’d lost in the mist
For a moment I’m overwhelmed
Then I took a step further…
Away from something so beautiful, that wasn’t Grey
But the figure reveal and I stranded there
I Never learn that there are many color one’s could posses
Day goes by,
The Grey Cloud is the latest place I’d like to be
It was the rainbow…
Holding me and warm me
With a lot of bunch of dream in my empty mind
Dream I never knew
Dream I never dare to explore
The forbidden dream for my Grey outfit
I’m content with joys,
The first time I ever feel grand to face my life
My heart reflecting the color of rainbow
Blue for the peace soul
Green for the new beginning
Red for the faith
Yellow for a bright hope
Not very long
The thunder strikes,
The lightning burned my rainbow
All was Grey again
The rainbow gone away
Prefer to have a quite-smooth journey with all its color
While the thunder sent me here
Back to the Grey Clouds
poem by Niken Kusuma Wardani
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Fly Away, Follow Desire
desire is hard to spell
it used to live in streetcars
and complicated the life of one who
finally
lost himself in the labyrinth of
too much thought
i spell it secretly
and i don't spill it like your
beans in Malta
it is hard to pronounce
to fulfill it you do not even have to utter it
it must live in the heart
it must grow in the body and keep itself ready on the groins
or the thighs or the lips
or the soles of your feet during the cold pour of the rain
by the side of your window
the possibilities are always myriad
welcome it
do not deny the rights of desire
it makes you write so well
it smooths the rough seas of your journey
makes you forget what is coming
to destroy you
forgive yourself, embrace desire
do not harm
be good, be gentle
keep on waiting for the right time
cut those boundaries
travel and if you have the wings ready in your mind
try
fly away
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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