Sucker
for a poem
to be itchy
it must be
a flea,
Socrates
proposed gnats
those hurting
biting gnats
when i first read it
in the dialogues
courtesy of Plato
i felt
this cow in me
coward,
cow-pea, cowed
in a
barn
milked like
a woman
i dread that
feeling
but it is
real
that i begin
to moooo
nonetheless
i cannot help
but just be back
into a
man without
use to
anyone
in my own chosen
freedom
there is Socrates
with all his dignity
intact
who did not get to be
old enough
to really
befriend death
i too propose
gnats, and fleas
and
lice
suckers of wisdom
from the
head of this
universe
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An English Summer
Teenagers drinking in the park
Tennis from Wimbledon on T.V.
acrid smells coming from barbecues
being bitten by midges, gnats, and flea.
Music you have never ever liked
blasting out all over your neighbourhood
gangs of kids who should be in bed
hanging about late and up to no good.
The pollen count shoots on up
making you cough and have an itchy eye
it can rain on and off for weeks
when we've been told it'll be hot and dry.
You get all hot and sweaty and can't sleep
when we do finally get that hot spell
but you can't leave your windows open
as you might let in the burglar from hell.
So I don't really enjoy an English summer
in fact I reckon they are so overrated
but if you can't beat them join them
so I'm off to a barbie to get slightly inebriated!
poem by Kevin Halls
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My War With The Fleas
Came August
the Flea Commander
slapped his walking stick
upon the table bare
surveying his battle plan
testing his jumping legs
assembled before him were
flea battalions on the ground
restless for the attack
mosquitoes and flies to buzz the air,
giant bedbug tanks from New York
gnats, moths, and crawlies eager for blood to suck
bat sentries, owl look-outs
coyotes to howl signals out
all was ready.
“Now, ” he began slowly
The family in there does not yet suspect
and we must not relinquish to them
our element of surprise.
We don't want them to get a chance to mobilize
until after we attack
and gain our cache of blood
surprise before they discover where our larvae lay
before they deploy their canisters of Raid
or insect repellents
before they open their bomb sprays
before their wash the beddings
before they deploy their expense flea sprays
and lethal flea droplets
we want to hide in their beds, dug in
we want to hide in their animals fur
in their clothing
everywhere
and before morning we will have established
our impenetrable beachhead.
So he said ready your selves for the strike this night
as they lay asleep.
With that he stood
his flea legs elevating him
above the others, shouting
Are you will me?
A roar went up
and I watching from my hiding place
crept away
saying to myself;
not this year you suckers
you’ll get your own surprise
glee in my voice.
To be continued.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Socrates Ghost Must Haunt Me Now
Socrates ghost must haunt me now,
Notorious death has let him go,
He comes to me with a clumsy bow,
Saying in his disused voice,
That I do not know I do not know,
The mechanical whims of appetite
Are all that I have of conscious choice,
The butterfly caged in eclectic light
Is my only day in the world's great night,
Love is not love, it is a child
Sucking his thumb and biting his lip,
But grasp it all, there may be more!
From the topless sky to the bottomless floor
With the heavy head and the fingertip:
All is not blind, obscene, and poor.
Socrates stands by me stockstill,
Teaching hope to my flickering will,
Pointing to the sky's inexorable blue
---Old Noumenon, come true, come true!
poem by Delmore Schwartz
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When gnats swarm in January, the peasant becomes a beggar.
I will admit, like Socrates and Aristotle and Plato and some other philosophers, that there are instances where the death penalty would seem appropriate.
quote by Jack Kevorkian
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Base Of All Metaphysics
AND now, gentlemen,
A word I give to remain in your memories and minds,
As base, and finale too, for all metaphysics.
(So, to the students, the old professor,
At the close of his crowded course.)
Having studied the new and antique, the Greek and Germanic systems,
Kant having studied and stated--Fichte and Schelling and Hegel,
Stated the lore of Plato--and Socrates, greater than Plato,
And greater than Socrates sought and stated--Christ divine having
studied long,
I see reminiscent to-day those Greek and Germanic systems, 10
See the philosophies all--Christian churches and tenets see,
Yet underneath Socrates clearly see--and underneath Christ the divine
I see,
The dear love of man for his comrade--the attraction of friend to
friend,
Of the well-married husband and wife--of children and parents,
Of city for city, and land for land.
poem by Walt Whitman
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I Forgot That Love Existed
I forgot that love existed troubled in my mind.
Heartache after heartache, worried all the time.
I forgot that love existed
Then I saw the light
Everyone around me make everything alright.
Oh, oh socrates and plato they
Praised it to the skies.
Anyone whos ever loved
Everyone whos ever tried.
If my heart could do my thinking
And my head begin to feel
I would look upon the world anew
And know whats truly real.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Parasites
my dog was scratching
like crazy and biting
his paws endlessly
i felt his discomfort
its maybe the fleas
the vet has something
to take care of and
squeeze my pocket empty
i smiled at the irony
my precious dog
is lucky to have me
the boy who lives next
door scratches his head
daily and bites his
dirty nails
thought its maybe the lice
feeding on his blood
while his drunken father
and gambling mom
are fighting over
who gets the money
poem by Eloida Capuno
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How I wish, said Socrates, taking his place as he was desired, that wisdom could be infused by touch, out of the fuller into the emptier man, as water runs through wool out of a fuller cup into an emptier one.
Plato in Symposium (-380), translated by Benjamin Jowett
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Life and Love at Agathon's Symposium
Who among us knows the true origin of love?
Do we love to be whole, again?
Do we strive for loves embrace in hopes of once again becoming children of the Sun? or Earth? Or Moon?
Do we wish to, once again, bounce around the world as not two - but one?
Like in Aristophanes' story of the origin of love?
Can we come to understand that which dictates our earthly desires, here, in the palace of the poet?
What of love Socrates? What wisdom did Diotima entrust you with?
You - who would take you tale of resource and poverty to your grave, for you truly believed that with love - comes deceit.
What conviction - poor, lonely Socrates
In death, be we whole, or wise, or happy,
we allow the mark of our love to carry our name into immortality
Just as love - is immortal
poem by C.S. Smith
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In These Restless Hours....
in these restless hours
one wakes up to share what
innately is also
restless...
thoughts are wanderers
in a caravan of camels
under the full moon amidst
the coldness of dawns...
the desert howls like a fox
asking for names
i whisper my name to the wind
so all the sands of time may know
that i have allowed
to be counted in
in these restless hours
we are too, part of the pack of
those restless creatures
see our shadows under the fullness of the
moon treading the desert sands of time
the foxes, the bats, the snakes,
the cockroaches, the gnats
and the nits and lice.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I am the wisest man alive, for I know one thing, and that is that I know nothing. (Plato's Apology)
The Soul Is The Rock
The soul is the rock and the rock will not be moved
Nothing is disputed, yet nothing is disproved
And the seeds of the earth that were planted long ago
Still yield a better harvest than the rock was prone to grow
Say what you like to, do what you do
Everyones sleeping now two by two
Bats in the roof, cats in the hall
Dust on the stairway, gnats on the wall
Big rain comin
Big rain comin this way
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
The sea is the space which the rock has displaced
The mind is some stranger that some soul has embraced
And somewhere between, in a no-mans land of dreams
The heart becomes the soldier yet the rock is not redeemed
Say what you like to, do what you can
Live like a sheep, die like a lamb
Bats in the roof, cats in the hall
Dust on the stairway, gnats on the wall
Big rain comin
Big rain comin this way
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
The soul is the rock and the rock will always roll
In circles round the sun doing rings around the pole
When the mind is not sure what the heart will do next
The rock becomes the master and the road becomes whats left
Late one night when the moon shone down
We went to the mill on the edge of the town
She wore white, I wore black
The town was sleeping when we got back
Big rain comin
Big rain comin this way
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
The soul is the rock and the rock will not be harmed
Though man must be cheated just as women must be charmed
And the mind is the light for the heart which cannot see
The soul becomes the stranger but the rock will always be
Say what you like to, do what you do
Everyones sleeping now two by two
Bats in the roof, cats in the hall
Dust on the stairway, gnats on the wall
Oh.. big rain comin
Big rain comin this way
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
The soul is the rock and the rock will not be moved
Nothing is disputed yet nothing is disproved
And the seeds of the earth that were planted long ago
Still yield a better harvest than the rock was prone to grow
And the seeds of the earth that were planted long ago
Still yield a better harvest than the rock was prone to grow
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fleas, lice
fleas, lice
the cat too
fleeing me
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Redefining maxims
the sky changes
with the shades
of thoughts trickling
into universe
the clouds play out
their sentiments
and profundity
you see them spread
over the heads
of the universe
and know how advanced
things have come to be
in the sky is still the
thought shades of
plato, socrates, aristotle
......
and when another more
advanced thought breezes
through you can see clouds
swriling like volcanoes
breaking through
limitations thus far
in our mind and heart
it is divinity redefining
maxims for the universe
and you know another
world has dawned
another fertile ground
for the brain to evolve
and from the sky
a different light for
us to see the world
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Long Journey Into A Recalling
actually
he did not choose to be here
he was told
he was thrown here
when he was a baby
when he had no sense at
all
about time and place
and people
just like everyone here
with a mind of their own
as they grow older
they begin to entertain questions
handed to them
by grief
and confusion
it was confusion
that made them think
it was grief that
ask them what happiness
is and how
illusive it seems
time gives them
those philosophical robes
that remain wet
with rain
someone who has outlived
all these quibbling
closed his mouth
and took the journey
with all calm
it is the silence that
after all
give them wisdom
it is the peace within
that pacified their storms
then they claim they
understand that they are not supposed
to be gnats
in the world of carcasses
that they should walk peacefully
and look at the stars
at night when they take their
temporary rests
on this still long
journey
into that longing about what once
was there
but they cannot
completely remember
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The usual picture of Socrates is of an ugly little plebeian who inspired a handsome young nobleman to write long dialogues on large topics.
quote by Richard Rorty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Petrov and Kamarov
Petrov: Hey, Kamarov, old chap!
Let's catch a few of these gnats!
Kamarov: No, I'm not yet up to that;
We'd do better to catch some tom-cats!
poem by Daniil Ivanovich Kharms
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Days of Crystalline
While midnight bats are gnawing gnats and feasting free unseen,
A toddler's fed from garbage sheds an elegant cuisine.
Along the trails in distant dales a lonesome wolverine
Feigns appetite on fogy nights and days of crystalline.
poem by Terry O'Leary
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