The Fruit Of His Silence And Indifference
what he remembers most was that time
when he asks for a glass of water which was denied him
he was angry at first
hysterical about his thirst his view on death that comes like a black horse from far
but he calmed down ultimately knowing that nothing happens anyway
despite his scream
the wind is still the wind that goes out from the hold of the mountain
not ever minding his situation
the trees are cruel too taking care only of their own roots
and so he grabbed silence
he coiled with the ropes of indifference
and take himself for a rock beside a cliff
and then they look for him
regretting perhaps what they have forgotten such a value for a rose
but then he has no eyes as identifying marks and no matter how
they search
despite his presence
they could not find him
now they are all crazy like the tribes driven out from Babel
and he simply watched them all
in silence and indifference
they murmur and cry out in the darkness of their souls
it is time now he says to reap the fruits of his labor.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
The Death of Silence
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When even the soundless creature
Leave an echo
When the quiet evening sky
Speaks more volume
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the darkness of night
Is calmed by the song of stars
When this cruel and frightening world
Is cheered by the joy of life
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the trees swaying their branches
Whispering the news from afar
When the stone awaken to tell the story
And no more secret remains hidden
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the wind fills the void
And noises the ears
When the sunshine touches the skin
And screams in eyes
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When you could taste the heart
Inside the food you eat
When you could understand
The meaning the breath that taken
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When smile is enough
To erase the rotten doubt
When love is abundant
To wash the bitter pain
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the soul finds its freedom
And not chained in the grief of body
When the call is passing
Through the memory and time
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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84
my silence shall be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Silence Shall Be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wind Horse
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, gentle Wind horse, you were the last of your kind.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you were running wild and free.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, with this freedom you did nothing but give;
When one called for help you carried them to safety,
No enemy did you have.
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave your life one day
To a boy with no leg.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave him your endless love.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you now run in the Great Hunting Grounds;
Giving joy to those there, as you did here.
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, your life was not the last gift
You gave the People.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you prayed for us, you wished a wish for us.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we remember you through your brother Horse.
Wi: yo: h … It is good.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we see you still.
poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
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Rotting Heart
I slip a blade across my hand.
Just to feel the sensation of pain.
Just to see the blood hemorrhage.
So many days I feel so forsaken.
The lost sheep who will never find his way.
Getting up one last time.
This time I will end you.
As I scream at the reflection in the mirror.
How could I blame anyone else.
It his fault the ugly beast inside.
To kill him is to commit suicide.
Oh how much I really want to try.
With every thing I do or say denied.
Like I don't even matter.
What did I ever change?
What purpose do I yet have?
Why am I still alive?
Why am I still alive?
Why am I still breathing and dragging my feet for what I believe?
When no one, absolute no one wants to be in or part of my life.
Cheers to all the no ones, thanks for coming to another of my fabulous renowned parties.
Famous for the nothingness of my own existence.
Am I lonely days, most certainly.
I don't desire your pity.
Just some company in this road I have been walking for way to long.
I've watch so many of my own dreams fade into sunset never to be seen again.
And nobody ever came to my help.
Not once, so why should I care about those who created all this indifference towards me?
Don't touch me don't you even dare ever think you can.
You might get my damned disease.
You might turn black as these trees within your very own heart.
Everything will start to rot.
All it needs is a little time.
You made me who I am just keep that in mind.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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UP in Baguio
at the Mirador
on top of the hill in Baguio
there we all lived
for a retreat of thirty days
in silence and prayer
at 6 p.m. before dinner
i sit calmly beside a glass window
overlooking the plains below
the pine trees and trails
winding are all gone now
covered by the fog
as though i am now
a resident of the clouds
i hear nothing but the
sounds of gongs
of the natives played
to please their
gods
that was in 1982
when Alan got so hysterical
that the doctor had to inject him to silence him
when Louie stepped out and run at midnight
under the rain crying like a child
when i started to write
the verses of my life because i have forgotten how to cry
how to run away how to be hysterical
when the fog has then become a secret friend
in those thirty days of silence and discovery
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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About The Silence
Silence is silence of indifference;
Silence is silence of repression;
Silence is of underlying violence.
Silence need not indicate peacefulness.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Forgiving Always Forgiving
when you offended me
i did not bother for i understand you
and always think that you tried always loving me as your brother
i always think you meant no offense at all
it is just that you are too disturbed by certain things that until now
you have not really understood
you grapple to hold on to something stable
yet there is none
you struggle to be yourself in peace and harmony with the rest
yet there seems to be nothing
to keep you in place
and so when you shout at me and tell me that i am someone else
a black cat
a wolf in sheep's clothing
the ill wind
the evil lurking in your darkness
i do not mind at all
i know it is not that easy to be in that state
i was there and i was lost and i was too confused
not knowing what i am and where i am going
and i perfectly understand what you are into
and so when you offend me i enjoy the silence of my understanding
you
and the nature of the human being
you and the whole of humanity
you and
the universe
unmoved by evil
undestroyed by indifference and cruelty and inhumanity
i, stand still
i am good, i am beautiful and i will always be on the side of the truth
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Mourners
Weeping for ones who in darkness lie,
the ones who in distress have sold their helpless souls;
for ones who have been born only to die...
perhaps for ones they never knew at all.
At times in graveyard they bury their thoughts
as though in there the sentiments hide some sacred notes.
At times they and corpses alike must maintain
the silence of the grave...
I wonder what played beneath their heads
that made them scream a hollow cry
or that if ever in their solemn lips
float the shadows of a lie.
No one has been so desperate to cry as they...
finding reasons to fill their eyes with false tears
or making them real as they recall
the pain of all the years.
They mourn for others and sometimes for themselves;
they mourn perhaps for unwanted fears...
condemning, regretting, yet waiting
for the price after the tears.
I thought that life was different for those
who in silence mourn.
But then life's all the same-
for everything that dies has once been born.
Life is never different for them
who mourn in silence,
for everything that started must come to an end.
Just then, life's all the same-
I watched them from a distance,
pretending as they play the game.
Some think of them as crazy,
for some, ordinary fools.
They, are called THE MOURNERS
and I am one of them.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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You get angry
You get angry
thats what death does
A light
A warmth on my face
The breeze through my hair
I smell the trees
You get angry
thats what death does
A heartbeat
A silent scream
Sinking
A coldness creeps in
Shadows dance in your eyes
You get angry
thats what death does
Not a death of the flesh
A death of the heart
The funeral of love
The welcoming of silence
Where you used to whisper...
I love you
poem by Lynzi Berner
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I listen to the silence
I Listen To The Silence
Darkness about me
In the somnolent silence
The silence has substance
As thick as can be
silence about me
as loud as a scream
In a nightmarish dream
It can terrify me
Silence has a feel
Of darkness in velvet cloaked
As a desperate cry being choked
Phantasmic, yet real
As Quiet surrounds me
The silence has substance
The absence of presence
is deafening to me
Sounds whispery as paper
Things scurry about me
Sounds, soft, sad and scaly
Like venom and vapour
Silence is sound incomplete
Silence whirs, silence hums
Silence throbs, silence thrums
Silence has it’s own heartbeat
Quiet has movement,
Tho’ever so slow
Quiet has substance
and how do I know?
I listen to the silence...
as you do also
poem by David Whalen
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Yesterday
yesterday was a wild wind
it blew me everywhere and i was but
a mere leaf not knowing what a direction is going to make
out of me
i hope though that soon this caterpillar
shall become another
monarch
butterfly to own a chunk of
blue sky
a capillary of a red petal of a rose that blooms
on the month of May,
yesterday was crippling and there was not crutch
no screeching wheelchair and i was helplessly bending
to a certain pain
i was wriggling and i fall upon a river raging towards a cliff
i had become a victim of a waterfall.
the hope is that soon after the wind shall have blown
and finished with its rage
the leaf shall then become free
to fall on the ground where it shall wilt
what option has it, when cut from its branch
and deprived of roots?
today is the hope of the seed
it knows what roots are, what fruits can be
today is the grains of the silent sand
light and glimmer, look over there
there is this dance of the prince and the princess
in the castle of the clouds
there is this heavy silence after
where we shall be again together
there is this smile that keeps us alive for the moment
there is this hold for a lifetime of hands that grip the softness of our being
we must agree and remember and believe
there is this tomorrow that never dies
there is this sun that we do not know how it works
tomorrow it will still be shining
there is still us i must suppose because we are tired of options.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Tree Without Fruits
the way they handle
a tree without fruits is
crazy
it is as though
the leaves do not matter anymore
or the roots
or even the wood itself
or the living rings
within
that tell about
a certain
age
they are thinking about
a fire
they are cruel
and i think they deserve
to be
burned in hell
the value of the tree
is not just its fruits
mind you
trees also present memories
of their own
their roots too have
beautiful stories to tell
their twigs and lentils
too have dreams
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wealth and weapon
Wealth and weapon
I have not seen
any thing crueller
than silence and indifference
silence is the sharp weapon
cuts the throat of truth
satiates both cowards and sadists
indifference is the wealth
in abundance for enjoyments
for the nerd and dead
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Silence!
Silence!
That is all that is left,
You now can offer.
Silence!
When your lips were needed,
To stop the heat of greed that fed...
You denounced a noncomformity,
As something those doing it would dred!
And here you are,
Being closed in...
By those who deceived 'you' instead!
Silence!
That's all that is required from you right now!
You have proven,
Like sheep...
Misfortunes thought were mine,
You believed you would never reap.
Has been designed to keep you mislead!
Now a sacrifice shared is weeped.
No one cares...
Tears from your eyes now you shed!
Silence!
Keep it...
As a sacrifice!
That is all you have left...
Tossing and turning your life,
Into a premature death.
With a shortened gasp of breath!
And with deception kept...
Your treasures hoarded,
Will quietly from you be swept,
Away!
As a silence bleeds...
From those who willfully allowed,
Themselves to be bled!
Self-righteous in rejecting those...
As you watched their hunger,
And homelessness spread!
Silence!
It's your turn...
To find no place to lay your head!
Silence!
Isn't that what you expected...
From those you said,
Were too low of life!
And denied them you did...
Of a fight to keep,
Their human rights!
Silence!
That's all that is needed from you.
No one cares what your objectives are.
You have already expressed...
Your selfish point of view!
And silence from others,
Comes to light!
As your plight is witnessed...
And subdues you to drown,
In standards that leave you...
Sinking underground!
Silence!
Is that clear?
That is all those who have survived,
Your sick conflicting inflicted nonsense...
Have chosen to dispel.
And from you...
Silence is all,
One wishes from you to hear!
With a peace released that swells!
No one but you,
Appreciates your created hell!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Like Your Silence
i like your silence
now
it is not like the
silence we had
before
your silence
now is different
it is
reminiscing
it is
refreshing
it is
sensitive
to my presence
it is
reflective of
who i am
enabling me
to hear my
breath
to see and
feel
my very own soul
i like your silence
now
it is the silence
of the memory
that cannot
be forgotten
it is not death
it is life
it is the blossom
of my sorrow
it is the fruit of
my despair
it is the silence
of my silence
it is the peace
within my
solitude
it has become
the center of
my life
the focus of my
scattering
the finding of
my loss
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Im A Rainbow
Is there a remedy for the passions of the soul
Brother if there is one I dont really know
Have I let my imagination run out of control
Im a rainbow
Just a rainbow
Am I living here in this nameless state
Its light on darkness sound of silence
I just cant get it straight
See I dont wanna be no one that I aint
Im a rainbow
Just a rainbow
And all the colors that you see
Are all part of me
In this crazy world of mine
Like the wind that blows
The trees are sailing for the breeze
Ever changing all the time
Im a rainbow just a rainbow
Ever changing all the time
Im a rainbow colorful rainbow
Sometimes I shine
And all the colors that you see
Are all part of me
In this crazy world of mine
Like the wind that blows
The trees are sailing for the breeze
Ever changing all the time
Da, da, da ,da,da...
Like the wind that blows
The trees are sailing for the breeze
Ever changing all the time
Im a rainbow just a rainbow
And sometimes I can shine
Im a rainbow just a rainbow...
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No More Love
This is last time.
Quiting a bad habit for good.
I knew I could.
Goodbye to the life as I know it.
Bring it on.
I'll take it anyway I can get it.
With the discipline of waiting on my calling to those white pearly gates.
With the emotional strength of hundreds of thousands of people everyday
In your arms I was denied.
NO ONE loves me.
Not today,
All I receive is the everyday pity.
Don't waste your time.
Cause their is not a tear shed through my eyes.
I'm not sad.
I'm just moving on.
How can you be sad over something you never had.
Disgust with dignity.
Indifference to infinity.
Just ignore me I'm not even here.
Like the whispers behind the silence that envelopes my ears.
I can sense your fear.
I'm not a serial killer.
I just don't fit that profile.
Crazy maybe.
But so is everyone else in this not so perfect little world.
Forgive me if I hurl.
I'm already sick of you and it was but a mere passing.
It would be better off fasting.
No I will not take it.
I'm just not hungry enough to swallow.
The stomach bubbling.
A feeling yet wanting.
It just won't go away.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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The Indifference of the Masses....
some have given me
the indignity of their silence
i have asked the questions
hoping for answers
they only respond with that
quizzical looks
something in me is diminishing
but i know how to cope up with it
i know silence too
i have slept with it
i showered it with the rain of my tears
i give it the mouth that swallowed me
my screams are daggers
that has killed it sometime
gone hysterical
i have retaken what voice i had
this confidence
this word that spits to the indifference of their silence
sigh, there is a syllable in it
that produces the sound of my own unique existence
there is a word that is like a bird in my mouth
soon, i will let it fly, soon i will utter it and give it wings....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Determined Indifference
i like indifference
as a weapon, whether
happy
whatever carrot or stick
policy is used by the enemy
indifference sits on a bench
watches the big waves of the sea
unaffected
the wind wanders
the thousand eyes of the sand
look for a possible hint
on what is up to
they cannot find a thing
except the stare to nowhere
the calmness
amidst the sorrowful
leaves
heaps and heaps
on the ground
of emptiness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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