Staring At The Monitor
i know i am not alone
experiencing this kind of stare
at the monitor when you think you cannot write
not because there is nothing to write anymore but because
you will not to.
of course you regret such kind of decision
that negates what you are what you do what hardheaded man
are you,
you begin again not thinking what thoughts are shaped of
there is no form that convinces you
everything is fluid like air shaping itself upon every
emptiness of
its container
what makes this void that takes a shape inside our brains?
what keeps us busy thinking about nothing
what makes us so passive
like empty balloons taking the shape of air pushed from the
mouth of our beholder?
ah, you may say
you are beholden to no one
it is the same thing that i keep on saying to myself
we like to think that all are smooth that at the end paradise reigns
again
that we are welcome
that no one shall be punished and forsaken
but i have seen the death of one
there inside his locked room
three days
gunned
foul
his body rotten
the guide was the group of flies
telling
here is the one
who thought there are no rules
even in love
here is he
he is dead and those who are alive
has something again to think about
the void that fills the spaces
of our pores
our hearts hungry again for instruction
our bodies
waiting for the next line
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Gestalt....
is it the shape?
the shape of your face, your heart,
is it just the shape, of your body, the color of your hair,
the kinkiness of your eyes,
is it just the shape of the bowl that matters to you?
what about the contents of the
bowl, or if it is empty, what about the air that fills it somehow?
do you see it? no you don't, so
it is not just the shape, neither just the parts,
or the whole, there is something more in shapes and colors
and
even contents,
there is the will that bends everything
to mercy
there is the decision that convinces us all
to be one, this sympathy,
that empathy, that belief that i cannot live
without you,
that someone dies when someone leaves,
that life is better with us
in all these,
that there is life after our deaths,
there is this
unseen coming, this one that we want to
grasp yet
because we think we failed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Sensitive Conversation
in a sensitive conversation
we do not just listen and observe
what happens next,
we take active part in exploring
what goes inside that makes this
person listless
we take his journey too
into the great abyss of his own void
which has the same face as ours
we feel
what void is there
that bites his being that poisons
his mind
we tell him we are about to arrive
at the root cause of the problem
so take it easy
do not ever give up
we assure him that everybody is
experiencing what he is
experiencing right now
that he is not just the lonely man
in this planet
there are just too many of
us,
yes us, and so we bond together
cohesive
till we are not what we are
anymore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Write Me
Aerosmith
Write Me
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
I said, the ways of the night are evil with eyes that love the day,
but I'll never never never never never get so far away.
I said write me, write me, write me.
I said write me, write me, write me.
Well there's nothin' I can see that'd ever make
me want to be without her she's good, she's good to me.
Said there's no way to explain the kind of feeling
that you get out in the rain she's good, she's good to me.
See this emptiness inside it makes me scream
it make me crawl out of my high, she's good, she's good to me.
I love her.
Write me a letter, write me a letter, write it today, I'm goin' away.
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
Well I've been so many places hidin' from the wind and the rain,
But you could write me a letter for to save me from a goin' insane.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Don't write me baby.
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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10:49 P.M. And Undefinite With What To Write
there is this sickness that compels me to write. There is this nausea that makes me
capture the words.
There is this pain that opens me up
to images
all images that soon appear like shadows of birds on the side of a hill
above
the full moon.
there is this void that behaves like a big mouth but cannot speak.
there is this silence that
dignifies
my loneliness. It is like an old woman waiting for no one by the stairs facing
the dusty road in an old country.
i have these eyes that look for nothing like a dead man staring without feeling
what lies there in front of those who scrutinize an event.
there is this trembling of the flesh in the arms while facing the monitor
inside a closed room.
there is this peace in exhaustion.
there is this knowledge of a dead end and there are no cars there.
there is this walk without a definite direction.
there is this purpose that you cannot describe.
there are lots of lost meanings that slip from our tongues and which we cannot
utter.
there is this game of boredom where we are all losers.
there is this acceptance without question because there is nothing worth
asking anymore.
after all these years
when we age and we do not care.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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(I Love) Being In Love With You
(B. Gibb/R. Gibb/M. Gibb)
I thought I'd already touched the sky
I got to know you and I don't know why
But all of my life couldn't mean as much
As just being touched by you
I never thought of me growing up
Got my directions but the road was rough
It's only the dream of a teenage queen
But somehow I made it through
And I'd love to see
Those faces of those friends I left behind
And even those who spoke for me
Just trying to be kind
And no one said I love you just the way
I know you do
And I love being in love with you
Living inside your heart
The giving and the taking
You are not forsaken
I love being in love with you
Thank you just for choosing me
That we should be
Being in love forever
And ever, ever
I stare and wonder at what I found
I just discovered why the world is round
Round in a circle my arms will be
And doing the same as you
It ain't right it's only for you and me
Only the lonely do it seperately
Keep it alive on the food of love
But only the chosen few
In my life you see some changes in me
We listen and we grow
Any child that clings to childish things
Is trying to let go
And up to now
I'd thought I'd seen as far as I could see
And I love being in love with you
Living inside your heart
The giving and the taking
You are not forsaken
I love being in love with you
Thank you just for choosing me
That we should be
Being in love forever
And ever, ever
And I love being in love with you
Living inside your heart
The giving and the taking
You are not forsaken
I love being in love with you
Thank you just for choosing me
That we should be
I love being in love with you
Living inside your heart
The giving and the taking
You are not forsaken
I love being in love with you
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Being In Love With You
(b. gibb/r. gibb/m. gibb)
I thought i'd already touched the sky
I got to know you and i don't know why
But all of my life couldn't mean as much
As just being touched by you
I never thought of me growing up
Got my directions but the road was rough
It's only the dream of a teenage queen
But somehow i made it through
And i'd love to see
Those faces of those friends i left behind
And even those who spoke for me
Just trying to be kind
And no one said i love you just the way
I know you do
And i love being in love with you
Living inside your heart
The giving and the taking
You are not forsaken
I love being in love with you
Thank you just for choosing me
That we should be
Being in love forever
And ever, ever
I stare and wonder at what i found
I just discovered why the world is round
Round in a circle my arms will be
And doing the same as you
It ain't right it's only for you and me
Only the lonely do it seperately
Keep it alive on the food of love
But only the chosen few
In my life you see some changes in me
We listen and we grow
Any child that clings to childish things
Is trying to let go
And up to now
I'd thought i'd seen as far as i could see
And i love being in love with you
Living inside your heart
The giving and the taking
You are not forsaken
I love being in love with you
Thank you just for choosing me
That we should be
Being in love forever
And ever, ever
And i love being in love with you
Living inside your heart
The giving and the taking
You are not forsaken
I love being in love with you
Thank you just for choosing me
That we should be
I love being in love with you
Living inside your heart
The giving and the taking
You are not forsaken
I love being in love with you
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fusing Bodies, Diffusing Souls
loneliness has a way of
piercing
another body another soul
the hug and tight embrace
bodies fusing
scents diffusing
drowning minds into that
oceans of passion
diving and penetrating
what the void has been missing
into a substance
into some fluids of compassion
all eyes close
for this musing
lost and wild and hot as hell
after that emission of light
and power
reigns after
the satisfaction of heaven
having seen the face of the divine
one finally exhausted
rest in the empathy of another's arms
it is love that kills loneliness
murders it
and scalds it
it is love and affection
that makes all the green grass spread again
that makes all the lonely rivers sing
it is love and no other
whatever name that you are giving
it is love
that shuts your mouth up
that fills the emptiness in your bosom
that gives you heels
that makes the smell of your armpit
a mouthful a bit.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Forsaken
Now The Day Has Come
We Are Forsaken This Time
We Lived Our lives
In Our Paradise
As Gods We Shaped The World Around
No Borderlines
We Stayed Behind
No Boundaries Is Something Fragile
Well We Thought We Were Gaining
We Turned Back The Time
It Still Slips Away
Our Time Has Run Out
Our Future Has Died
There's No More Escape
Chorus
Now The Day Has Come
We Are Forsaken
There's No Time Any More
Life Will Pass Us By
We Are Forsaken
We're The Last Of Our Kind
The Sacrifice
Was Much To Hide
Our Grief Just Made Us All Go On
We Try To Hide What We Fear Inside
Today Is The End Of Tomorrow
As The Sea Started Rise
And The Land That We Conquered
It Just Washed Away
We All Have Tried
To Turn Back The Time
It Was All In Vain
Chorus
Now The Day Has Come
We Are Forsaken
There's no Time Anymore
Life Will Pass You By
We Are Forsaken
Only Rules Stay Below
"Een Hoop Gebrabbel"
Now The Day Has Come
We Are Forsaken This Time
Now The Day Has Come
We Are Forsaken
There's No Time Any More
Now The Day Has Come,
The Day Has Come
song performed by by Within Temptation
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Woman Trapped In A Man's Body
ariel suggests that a poem should be written
about a woman trapped in a man's body,
and sometimes one may spell this kind of
trap as a tragedy as mostly projected by
those that claim that the happiest gay is
a dead one. I suppose it is just a matter
of how one sees the best that happens
when one is there. A trap can be a cage,
and to some a cage is a safe home for the
bird who does not bother taking the risk
of flying anymore. A woman loves a man,
and try thinking Ariel, how happy would a
woman be staying inside a man's body?
she makes love to him day and night long.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Vacuole....
haven't you taken a closer look
at the vacuole? it is owning a space for itself
and what you do not see is that
it is ingesting emptiness upon
its own open mouth
and just like you digesting everything
to tiny pieces
until everything gets so fluid
upon its own belly
the universe begins to take shape
and move
just like our own feelings of emptiness
we must learn this art of
ingestion
taking things and converting them
into fluids
until they take the shape of our faces
our future
and fears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Woman Trapped In A Man's Body (2)
ariel suggests that a poem should be written
about a woman trapped in a man's body,
and sometimes one may spell this kind of
trap as a tragedy as mostly projected by
those that claim that the happiest gay is
a dead one. I suppose it is just a matter
of how one sees the best that happens
when one is there. A trap can be a cage,
and to some a cage is a safe home for the
bird who does not bother taking the risk
of flying anymore. A woman loves a man,
and try thinking Ariel, how happy would a
woman be staying inside a man's body?
he makes love to her day and night long.
and she caresses him without any tong.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Over Her
You know I been trying to figure out
Just what's going on
Am I over her?
I been doing a lot of thinking lately
Am I over her?
And I'm really missing you
It's been 3 months, 3 hours, 3 days
Since the last time I seen your pretty face
My decision to bring this to an end
And I'm caught up in reminscing
Having faithful visions of long walks, long talks
Play fights, late nights
It's been on my mind since Valentine's
Cause I had your heart and I let it slide
I ask myself time and time again (again I'm trying to comprehend that)
Unanswered questions still (things to be are meant to end)
Am I over her? (am I over her?)
Am I over her?
Am I over her?
Tell me am I really over my my love (am I over her?)
I can't think straight
Cause I'm too busy thinking of her
Am I really over my love?
I was going through some things that I couldn't explain
Now my situation's taking a big change
They say the grass is greener on the other side of town
Now I'm kinda wishing you would come back around
Is she sad or is she mad?
Does she have a new man, does she have it like that?
It's been so long, thought I would've moved on
Could've been strong and picked up the telephone
I ask myself time and time again (again I'm trying to comprehend that)
Unanswered questions still (things to be are meant to end)
Am I over her? (am I over her?)
Am I over her?
Am I over her?
Tell me am I really over my my love (am I over her?)
I can't think straight
Cause I'm too busy thinking of her
Am I really over my love?
It's water under the bridge
But I can't seem to forget
All the plans we made, all the time we spent
Makes me reminisce
I still see your face
All this love I can't replace
Am I over (am I over)
Am I over her? (her now)
Am I over her?
Am I over her? (am I)
Am I over her? (am I over)
Tell me am I really over my my love (my love my love)
I can't think straight (my love)
Cause I'm too busy thinking of her (never gonna be over her)
Am I really over my love? (never gonna be)
No
Am I over her?
No not over her no
Ohhhhhh
Am I over her?
Am I over her? (over her)
Am I over her?
Am I over her?
Tell me am I really over my my love (am I over her, am I over her?)
I can't think straight (I'm not over her)
Cause I'm too busy thinking of her
Am I really over my love? (ahh oooh)
I'm not over my my my love
I'm not over my my my love
I'm not over my my my love (oh no no)
I'm not over my my my love
Am I over her? (I'm not over my my my love)
Am I over her? (I'm not over my my my love)
Am I over her? (I'm not over my love my love, she's my love, she's my)
Tell me am I really over my my love (she's my everything)
I can't think straight (she's my everything, my everything)
Cause I'm too busy thinking of her
Am I really over my love?
Not over not over my love
Not over not over my love
I'm not over not over my love
Am I over her?
Not over not over my love..
song performed by by Backstreet Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Emptiness Comes
EMPTINESS COMES
Emptiness comes-
There is nothing to say
Nothing to write-
But Nothing is for me only nothing
It is not the goal and the meaning-
Egolessness belongs to saints of a certain kind
I am not a saint-
Emptiness disappears with the writing
Words and meanings come-
I suppose one will be empty forever
When one is alive
What can Emptiness give?
I have written against the Emptiness
And am less empty now for now-
Thank God I no longer feel empty now-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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To Write To Think To Imagine To Love
i do not just write from a scratch of an idea from anywhere
like i get a pen and a piece of yellow paper, a blank sheet of
bondpaper, unperfumed like the love letter sent to sensuality,
it is not a matter of switching on the light of the lampshade
early dawn, rub my eyes, tap my middle finger on the table,
and breathe deeply and say,
i will write this
emptiness, with no one inside this circle of emptiness,
like an empty set,
zero, nothing inside some domains,
no,
writing starts with someone in mind
not really something lovely that excites my hormones
my lust and desire for another sexual fantasies
it woudl be too selfish
and ignoble,
writing starts with you
the concrete you, the once crying inside the room
on a wintry night, the one who needs the comfort of my
thoughts, the warmth of my concern
though distant
like the sun to another sun to another star to another star
of this galaxy to another galaxy,
i think about your worries
i reflect upon your quest to be alive again
i ponder upon your thirst
for love
something specific
something i can touch with the fingers of my mind
something that i can bite and check if this something is still
tasting the salty taste of the blood of life,
as i grow somehow
i shall think about the great spaces and places of the other worlds
beyond you and me
beyond us,
my mind gaping like an open mouth of a baby
opening to the freshness of this world
i will start with you
your sad eyes, it will start with the question
how can i ever wipe your tears
how can i ever make you smile again
and then the sadness of the world
its miseries
how can we ever heal it,
how can we ever make it green and alive again
from the very beginning
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When The Pen Sits Beside A Paper Doing Nothing
there is this time of the day
when you sit and stare and think about nothing
and so the pen merely places itself idly
on the table beside a paper
bland and blank
there is this emptiness that does not even speak for itself
you cannot write it
you cannot also write it off away from you
no one speaks there
except your thoughts
somehow you want to remember love
it smiles at you
and then you spell the word regret
always, and as usual,
it comes late, makes you chew a memory
it is bitter
and of course, like what they do, you spit it out.
to where it lands, a beautiful flower grows
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Write About The Tree
to write about the tree and the sun
how do they ever stand each other?
is it the need? is it the love?
i cannot really write about it.
i always see them there as i sit under the tree's shade.
as i scorch myself under the sun's heat.
i could have written about the unfolding to the red flower
and the wonder of the grass.
i am helpless now.
i am addicted to something else inside the room.
on a dim light. on a warm bed.
do not say a name. do not mention about the shape of
the human body.
yes, it is. and will always be.
the human anatomy speaking about itself.
love is not a word there. it is a view. it is a touch.
it is beyond what is good and what is wrong.
it is the silence. it is the swallowing of what we are.
it is the rubbing of skin. until the universe
ejaculates what it keeps.
until the earth reveals what is in that womb.
it is the unreasoning of life's rules.
it is merely the flow.
nothing else.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Write Me A Song
Kelly is raising a son
His dad left just after the birth
Now she's living on child support checks
I guess that's all that man was worth
She says, "I just need a man who will love me
"But they all just want one night of sin
"I know my life could be better
"I just don't know where I should begin."
She said write me a song
One that makes all the girls cry
And the old women swoon at the sound of my tune
And the hearts of the lonely will fly
Yeah, they'll fly...
Beth, she sings straight from her heart
She's hidden her tracks very well
But these days she's falling apart
And it makes me feel just like hell
She said, "Boy, you can't imagine my life
"The death and the drugs and the pain
"And though I keep running
"I can't seem to break from these chains."
She said write me a song
And fill it all up with the words
Like "brilliant" and "heavenly"
Make it sound just like me
Just like the first time "I love you" was heard
And now write me a song
One that makes all the girls cry
And the old women swoon at the sound of my tune
And the hearts of the lonely will fly
We're all feeding our lonely
Like it might go away
The doors of heaven swing wide
If we just find the right words to say
She said write me a song
And fill it all up with the words
Like "brilliant" and "heavenly"
Make it sound just like me
Just like the first time "I love you" was heard
And now write me a song
One that makes all the girls cry
And the old women swoon at the sound of my tune
And the hearts of the lonely will fly
Yeah, they'll fly...
She said write me a song
(Write me a song)
She said write me a song
(Write me a song)
She said write me a song
(Write me a song)
She said write me a song
(Write me a song
song performed by by Edwin McCain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Jar's Story
from the start
the hands that shaped you
designed you to be empty
you were named
Jar,
someone so
beautiful and rich
takes you
away from your
maker
those hands
cannot hold you for long
because they are
empty and hungry
hands
and then she fills
you with perfume
and all those who attend
the parties of the
world
dip their fingers
in your scent
they crowd around you
and you are loved
not for what you are
but what you
can give
scents, scents,
all scents
you begin to miss
your original form
the beauty that you
possess
when you were
once empty
you miss the whisper
of space inside
your belly
the hush of the wind
that rests in
your heart
you forget the name
that was given to you
Jar is your name
but are not one of them
anymore
you are the scent
of their necks
hanging on their
jaws and navels
your contents
fill now their fantasies
your hollowness
they now discard
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lost In The Music
the music you write
makes my mind soar
the music you write
makes me want to dance
the music you write
is like a lullaby
the music you write
makes my heart jump
the music you write
makes me want to hear it again
the music you write
is like a shooting star
the music you write
makes me fall in love with you
the music you write
is like a shower in a drought
the music you write
is like a dream that i don't want to wake up from
i get lost in the music you write
poem by Brittney Crozier
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G6
one thing with us
is that we are not like the air that fills the space
the void,
we have not adopted the properties
of fluidity
flexible enough to adjust
to emptiness
embracing it
like a long lost friend
and liking what
new setting is there
we should have taken the shape
of God's containers
and say that despite the hollowness
there is nothing wrong
but what is there
is the excitement
of being like Him
Everywhere.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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