The Masochist Culture....
this incurable fanatic is condemned
every morning it opens the pages of its own realities
as though it is opening a wound
and lets the blood ooze
it finds joy in this kind
opening those which have healed and had been closed
for years now
this is the culture of masochism
manipulating the past giving it is unnecessary presence
perhaps
because there is nothing to see at all
nothing to do
perhaps to lessen the absurdity of what is here
there is nothing to touch
except these pages of
pain
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Buddhist Lesson # 2
enlightment,
the act of opening,
like a rosebud,
like a mother,
opening the door...
like a child
opening a present,
like a woman
opening to a man....
opening...
all the hidden chambers,
every door to every
secret kingdom of the soul.....
opening the box that holds
your secret thoughts, desires....
opening...
the door of the cage,
letting the winged breath fly....
opening....
your heart to itself,
and to all hearts beating....
opening....
the vault of conceptions,
the entrance to the tomb
of past lives and memories....
opening...
your hands to the world
as if it were your neighbor,
and you, it's home!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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It Was Too Long Ago
25 years must still be
hurting, a wound that could have healed
but she insists on its pain,
i want to forget
but she must have planted
a bamboo on that
brook of brine,
not too salty, but
mostly a bitter
blindness about that love
that never
fulfilled itself,
this morning i have something
to say
but she closed the door
and she
is crying still, despite
those 25 years.
how can i free
myself from this
cell of
guilt?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Droplets of roses
when the droplet
floats down the
petal of the red rose
it opens an old wound
deep and which never
really has ever healed
a wound red as blood
time has taken
into its hands and
shrouded around
like petals do to the rose
so that when it blooms
it opens the way to
both cheers and pains
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Theres A New World Just Opening For Me
Now I know just what Ive been doing wrong,
Life seems empty, but it wont last for long.
I shant go on this way.
Theres a new world just opening for me.
Been alive, but it could be lying down. [? ]
Just cant tell when the devils on the prowl.
I cant pretend no more.
Theres a new world just opening for me.
Theres a new world just opening for me.
Win the battle, but the victory brings you pain.
You make confessions, but you do the same again.
I wont go on this way.
Theres a new world just opening for me.
I wont go on this way.
Theres a new world just opening for me.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Written In Blood And Love
In pages written in blood, in pages written love.
Stories are told of you grow old together.
Live to dieing forever.
Scarred by the pain of misery.
Scarred by the imperfections the have created so many rejections.
Give me the antidote to the poison that I have slipped in my own drink.
Let me breath the life in again.
Drowned out all the cowardliness of my angel who holding me up.
Such a beautiful crutch.
Still in the pages written in blood, in the pages written love.
We are just one of millions.
Every story is the same.
All that's changed is the names, places, and faces.
Erase it all.
Rewrite the entire fall.
Let the wind take me.
Let the lightning strike me here and now.
For i will not let it cloud my judgement.
No matter the storm that's brought on.
In the pages written in blood, in the pages written in love
Hate me for the right reasons
Hate me because I am what you wanted me to be.
In all the irony.
I didn't change for you.
It was done way before you came along and sang your song.
All the pages have been written, in blood and love.
The Shakespeare play Romeo and Juliet to the fullest.
Its the cruelest games in tragedy strikes without a ounce of leniency.
No mercy to those who are jumping without a life line.
Protection against the evil of an accident so quick.
A slip becomes a fall.
Next your trying to stall buy a little time.
But its in vain.
Nothing can be changed.
Its sink or swim till you reach shore.
So long off stripped of everything you thought was important.
Values so mixed up in these pages written in blood, in the pages written in love.
We have killed another pair of doves.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Pages Of My Mind
Faces from my past flicker
through the pages of my mind
along with shadowy figures
I wish I had left behind.
Old loves and new loves
smile and say hello as they pass
through the pages of my mind.
They come in quiet moments
when I am at peace with the world.
Reflecting images of times left behind.
There are no future images,
as those pages haven’t been written yet,
only ones from a distant past.
They stroll across with happy moments
written on the pages of my mind.
11 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Destiny Life Leaf Pages
manuscripts we all life write
destiny life leaf pages
some leave empty pages white
others shimmer reflecting light
some smear pages with dirt
record chaos rip rub out hurt
how shall we fill manuscript pages...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Birth Energy
I am opening
I am opening up
Birth energy
Be my teacher
Birth energy
Heal my fears
Teach me trust
Teach me compassion
Walk me into the darkness
And into your light
Birth energy
You are woman
Birth energy
Within the man
Ever constant
Ever changing
Let your winds blow
Rock me in your storm
Let the bough break
Let me fall
Into your arms
It is you I trust
When I say
Im trusting love
Invocation:
I stand among the sisters of the moon
I am held by the creator of the world
I am opening
I am unbounded
I am luminous
I am powerful
I surrender to this power
Life and newness are continued and
Renewed through me
You are the ocean
I ride upon your waves
I am opening
I am blown apart by your caress
I surrender to you
I embrace you
I am ready now to sing the moon
To be her voice
I am the singer
And life is her song
I sing creation
I sing joy and pain
Beginning and ending
Giving and taking
Existence
Goddess
I embrace you
I am opening
I am opening up
song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Distinct Work
Never be hard at distinct work,
For you delve into the nightmares;
Open the work of the words you write,
Closing the pages as you send letters.
The better writer forces his mind
To act in a strange way, almighty at last.
The work carries on working like words,
Worlds of pictures design our images so late.
May the weight of the pages abhor the life
To come. It defines us as we write on the shelf.
Opening words of slaughter is like being drunk,
Heavy business is about, with clarity.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Barricades Of Heaven
Running down around the towns along the shore
When I was sixteen and on my own
No, I couldnt tell you what the hell those brakes were for
I was just trying to hear my song
Jimmy found his own sweet sound and won that free guitar
Wed all get in the van and play
Life became the paradox, the bear, the rouge et noir
And the stretch of road running to l.a.
Pages turning
Pages we were years from learning
Straight into the night our hearts were flung
Better bring your own redemption when you come
To the barricades of heaven where Im from
All the world was shining from those hills
The stars above and the lights below
Among those there to test their fortunes and their wills
I lost track of the score long ago
Pages turning
Pages we were years from learning
Straight into the night our hearts were flung
Better bring your own redemption when you come
To the barricades of heaven where Im from
Childhood comes for me at night
Voices of my friends
Your face bathing me in light
Hope that never ends
Pages turning
Pages torn and pages burning
Faded pages, open in the sun
Better bring your own redemption when you come
To the barricades of heaven where Im from.
Better bring your own redemption when you come
To the barricades of heaven where Im from.
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is Something Inside My Mouth (2)
there is something singing inside my mouth
but i keep my mouth closed
i decide when shall the opening be
when shall i hear this little thing sing again
in the open
for now i have closed whatever is it that opens
that sings
it is time to mourn
to be silent
to die
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It’s time to seal my father’s book
The one I’ve been given while he was still alive
Sometime before the year 2000
I filled it in last year
After so many years of not writing
Posted some of its contents
It contains
Like so many previously empty pages
Lots of something and bits of half nothing
And I’m sure that this peace of information is totally irrelevant
For the readers
Except for the fact
That there are always pages that need to remain just that
The pages and nothing else
Even though they contain things that should not be forgotten
That will not be forgotten
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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End It On This
You see in the past I had a dream
A fantasy
I thought that we would last
Become a little family
Then one, two, three, four
The years were flying by
They soared
And its my gut feeling
Its not happening for me, so...
Lets end it on this
Geive me one last kiss
Lets end it on this
Lets end it on this
You see its hard to face
The addict thats inside of me
I want to fill my glass up
With you constantly
Ive been here before
But Ive never ever felt this sure
But Ive never ever felt this sure
And now I know Ive been dreaming
And your actions
Have inspired me, so...
Chorus:
I open up, you ignore me
Youre not the same at all
And if I could turn back
The pages of time
Id rewrite your point of view
Washed up on the shore
Given one last chance
To try somemore
But Im tired, iv freezing
Lets stop and call it history
song performed by by Gwen Stefani
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wing Pages Of The Butterfly
at the nursery
while people
are at purchase
and at transactions
a blue butterfly
comes by
and opens its pages to me
swift and quick
and it says to me:
'Read! Read!
Read my pages! '
'I can’t read, '
I say,
amused
at this brash butterfly
'Read and write!
Read and write
about me,
and all flitting butterflies
Read
and write, you silly! '
it commands
And so I read
and I copy
and these are the words
the words from those
pages
the butterfly
holds up to me
poem by Raj Arumugam
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I wrote a lot of stuff quickly: pages and pages of notes that seemed pretty incoherent at first. Most of it was taken from the radio because -suddenly being a parent- I'd be confronted by the radio giving a news report every hour of the day.
quote by Thom Yorke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tracks, Trails, Lines and pages
Tracks in forests… of woodland creatures
Trails of shooting stars in summer skies
Tracks of rockets o’er bloody battlefields
Traces of wrinkles round wizened eyes
Lines of wisdom on wrinkled faces
Lines of ants upon the floor
Lines of prose on parchment pages
Lines of carts inside the stores
Pages of life, inside old diarys
Pages dog-eared to mark the places
Pages filled with tales sad and fiery
Pages filled with empty spaces
poem by David Whalen
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Books
The universe (which others call the library). . .
-Jorge Luis Borges
Books which are stitched up the center with coarse white thread
Books on the beach with sunglass-colored pages
Books about food with pictures of weeping grapefruits
Books about baking bread with browned corners
Books about long-haired Frenchmen with uncut pages
Books of erotic engravings with pages that stick
Books about inns whose stars have sputtered out
Books of illuminations surrounded by darkness
Books with blank pages & printed margins
Books with fanatical footnotes in no-point type
Books with book lice
Books with rice-paper pastings
Books with book fungus blooming over their pages
Books with pages of skin with flesh-colored bindings
Books by men in love with the letter O
Books which smell of earth whose pages turn
poem by Erica Jong
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The Book
My life is a leaf
Bind together in a book
Written
With sweat and blood
Pages after pages
With the taste of Pain and joy
Every emotion
Big or small
Fully charged
Packed and sealed
Every incident
Recoded in details
For the experience
Good or bad
If you want to learn
Whether there is any love
For you and mankind
You just need to turn
The page number twenty one
Chapter after chapter
Written with mixture
Of success and failure
If any one
Written badly
And Tastes sour
It is my life
Full of blood and flesh
Please pass on to another
poem by Abdul Wahab
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The grandest thing has been the lifting up of the gates and the opening of the doors to the women of America, giving liberty to twenty-seven million women, thus opening to them a new and larger life and a higher ideal.
quote by Olympia Brown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Work of Many Years
The work of many years
Lies in piles
Hidden from my care-
Years of effort
On pages most likely
Never to be read-
I don’t have the courage
To confront it
And try to save it all-
How much hope and effort did I give to those pages
No one will ever know?
How much of my life has simply been wasted
And will be thrown out in an hour as if it never were?
For years now I have been running away
From work done years before -
This poem too is a small escape
That will not save a single page
Of all I have done before.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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