The Political Law Class
it is avatar like
i am growing roots all over my body
my eyes
through its pupils
are giving you
pathways
to another dimension
beyond the
threshold of the law
of this land
i tell you about sandcastles
that we keep on building
and how every hour the waves of the sea
are destroying them
faithful to the law
we keep rebuilding these sandcastles
eternal damnation but
for a cause
we never let ourselves be drowned
by the depression of
the hours
survival of the fittest
so you have to memorize the faces of
those around you
they may not make it
after all
i spread my roots
to all your noses your hands
fingers
every orifice of your
bodies
after three hours
i have lost what i have for that day
going home
driving alone
on a dark night
i am surprised
why i have
become
stronger....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Legal Books
sandcastles
made by kids
on the shores
in a moment
a few seconds
the waves
come and
destroy
everything and
as you well see it
the children
build another
set of
sandcastles again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Roots Bloody Roots
Roots Bloody Roots
Roots Bloody Roots
Roots Bloody Roots
Roots Bloody Roooaaaaaahh
I believe
In Our Fate
We Don't Need To Fake
It's All We Wanna Be
Watch Me Freeeaaak !!
I Say
We're Growing Every Day
Getting Stronger In Every Way
I'll Take You To A Place
Where We Shall Find Our
Roots Bloody Roots
Roots Bloody Roots
Roots Bloody Roots
Roots Bloody Roots
Rain
Bring Me The Strength
Is Breeding Me This Way
To Get To Another Day
And All I Want To See
Set Us Free
Why
Can't You See
Can't You Feel
This Is Real
Ahhh
I Pray
We Don't Need To Change
Our Ways To Be Saved
That All We Wanna Be
Watch Us Freak
song performed by by Sepultura
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Building The Sandcastles
do not think that it is only children who build sandcastles.
big people do, and worse, they do it
in the air and they are serious about this matter
someone comes along to destroy these sandcastles
his job is simply to destroy and give the hassles
dreams, as we all know them,
someone always has the temerity to destroy all of them
do not blame this dreambreaker, do not give him a bad name
whether you like it or not
the maker of the waves sends the sea to wash away
the sandcastles that we build
the maker of our dreams destroys these dreams
and then be glad
another cleansing has been duly accomplished and done
you see,
everything in this world always works for our own good
and for the best
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Laws That Man Made On Earth
the laws that man made on earth are like sandcastles.
and the men who made them are like children
playing on the beach one summer's day.
each hand takes a mouthful of sand and
forms the minarets and walls and doors of
the castle. A path for their prince. A stable
for their horses. A special chamber for the
king and queen. A training ground for their
warriors and soldiers to protect them.
A court for their counsels and judges.
Every structure geared to protect self-interest.
the laws and sandcastles. The men who made them
are the children on the beach. And here comes God
the Big Wave, and in an instant, on a single wash of
its mighty hand, or tongue, or cape, all these laws are
washed away.
Then the afternoon comes. The sun sets. The children
go home and sleep.
Tomorrow is another play. Another game. Another sandcastles.
Nearby the waves keep looking.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Summer Home In Your Arms
You take your coat off and throw it on the floor
Night delivers you to my arms once more
You feel so familiar as you get into bed
Cigarette smoke halo around you head
You lean over and kiss me so sweet...
I could lay with you like this for hours...
Hours and hours
Building a summer home in your arms
I kiss you with the languid adiration of slumber
Landin random as lotto numbers
One for each eye
And, oops, one on your nose
And ten for each of your cute little toes
You lean over and kiss me so sweet...
I could lay with you like this for hours...
Hours and hours...
Building a summer home in your arms
Am I crazy, do I talk too much?
Sometimes I think your silence is a crutch
Am I mad, are you married?
Oh jesus this love stuff can sure be scary
But so sweet... so sweet
Here in your arms
Im a bit of a mess and Im gone too much
But when Im away its you I long to touch
And certain things remind me its such a special treat
As these little things that bring you to me
You lean over and kiss me so sweet...
I could lay with you like this for hours...
Hours and hours...
Building a summer home in your arms
Im building a summer home in your arms
Im building a summer home in your arms
Im building a summer home in your arms
Built with all your charms
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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29 January
Aquarius goes on to acquire
50 hands
more faces, water, droplets of rain,
more fingers, twigs of trees
more feet, roots and more roots and more capillaries
more of these nonsense, foolishness of men
wisdom of God
less reason, junk food, broken computer chairs, dragging hours,
more emotions, flowers on my bed, candles by the side of my bathroom
stay more on the left side of the brain, giving justice for the lost moments,
striking the chords of despair and repairing the broken strings of awe,
why not? why limit myself to usual possibilities of office, home, church, work,
honor, position, pedestal
when the mountain ranges are waiting, less trodden paths where only my two feet fit,
muddy rivers, pigs, doghouses, bee hives, chase and chase myths
on the 29th, i like being away from me.
i will meet myself as a stranger, offer it hot tea on cold morning,
no asking of where it hails from, and where it is going,
just being together, mirroring, no teasing, no guilt,
no comparisons,
i keep on writing for no one.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tis Ungenerous And Oppressive People
'Tis ungenerous and oppressive people create refugees
The people who risk their lives in leaky boats on the dangerous seas
In search of a better and safer life in a Land far away
From where they first looked on the bright lamp of day
'Tis the greed of the greedy create poverty
And cause homelessness and hunger and inequality
'Tis survival of the fittest as some are known to say
In a fair Human World it should not have to be this way
So many disadvantaged in the social divide
And the gap between the haves and the have nots is growing ever wide
And many grow poorer for every new millionaire
The minority own the most of the World's wealth and most are unwilling to share
Even a small percentage of their millions with those in most need
'Twould seem survival of the fittest has it's roots in greed.
poem by Francis Duggan
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An uncreative medicine
no hope
no friend
no family
no home
no nativity
no nationality
no fame
no name
no future
no points
no market
no identity
no possessions still a tree without roots
no relationship still a tree without roots
no anarchism still a tree without roots
no hiearchy still a tree without roots
no country still a tree without roots
no colours still a tree without roots
no degrees still a tree without roots
no certificates
no imaginations
no dream
no poetry
no fiction
no story
no news
no media
no happiness still a tree without roots
no genre still a tree without roots
no labels still a tree without roots
no names still a tree without roots
THE FOURTH EYE
of
A post-conceptual poet.
Is All About You
1 hour unity,
2 hours peace,
3 hours playing,
4 hours sleeping,
5 hours smiling,
6 hours living,
7 hours trusting in your muse!
For this river is mine and yours foeevers;
And, i want to be close to you always.
1 hour smiling,
2 hours learning,
3 hours thinking,
4 hours with your muse,
5 hours teaching,
6 hours working,
But, the 7th hour comes for me to sleep with you;
Because, this love is all about you! !
And, i want to be with you always.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Redmption Of The Self
when i stand there
there was a dark cloud of shame
above my head
the cloud is heavy
and it poured
dismay
i am drenched with
humiliation
i fell like i am a tree with
wilted leaves
that keep on falling to
the ground
until i become nothing
but twigs
mere fingers of the hands
skeletal to the sky
i do not have those roots
that keep me strong
but then there is always that
redemption
ally to the sun
shall i be when tomorrow comes
i grow my leaves again
spread my roots
deeper than the
hands of the rivers
to the cracks of the earth
where gold resides
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Los Flores de la Luna
No one in the world
Be quite like you
With honeysuckle eyes
Happiness and sad
Flow through my roots
Like time through sand
I have seen the
Ever blooming lotus,
To grace these lips
Life’s most humorous
Happiness and sad
Flow through my roots
Like time through sand
Above all others
You are a flower
Growing ever more
Vibrant hour by hour
Happiness and sad
Flow through my roots
Like time through sand
All flowers will fade
As beauty will too,
But a beautiful mind
Will always remain new
Happiness and sad
Flow through my roots
Like time through sand
poem by Jeffrey McCambridge
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Multiple Choice: Australia
The huge roots of the Daintree tree are known as:
1) fortress roots
2) buttress roots
3) art deco roots
4) neo-gothic roots
5) time-to-rinse roots
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Dealing With Depression
Depression is being lonely in a room full of people
Depression is being constantly tired but never able to sleep
Depression is longing to be with others yet not being able to cope with company
Depression makes you lose your appetite and eat yourself fat
Depression is smiling to hide the pain inside
Depression is when the soul dies but the body keeps on living
Depression is forgetting who you used to be
Depression is not knowing if you could survive without it
Depression is being sad when nothing is wrong
Depression is not caring whether you live or die
Depression is having no interest in the things you used to love
Depression is lying awake for hours in bed at night contemplating the best way to kill yourself only to realise that you can’t be bothered.
poem by Ricky Baker
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Staying Outside
Sea, it is sunny now
And the slides of fun in the pool
Have worked their magic.
'Go make some sandcastles,
Stay outside', the waves keep telling me,
'They will cure you'.
poem by Harriet James
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The Problem With Lust Sometimes
the problem with lust sometimes
is structural
there is this rod looking for an
orifice
an orifice wanting to be filled
with sweet hardness
and stiff lengths
its depth utters a name
a longing
everything fits and
so happiness radiates to each nerve
there are other 'incoherences'
and lapses of the world of creation
on the verge of
insatiation
orifice to orifice and the rod
striking another rod in loneliness
bells and bells
no one penetrates and no one is penetrated
like plate upon plate
of pillar side by side with another pillar
each looks somewhere else
anticipating much
doing a lot of sensing out where is that and
where is this
there is nothing but a tree of loneliness
on a desert landscape
accented by a skull of the wolf
without leaves and rotten roots
trying to reach for the moon
the dead moon, the scorching sun
the useless days
the dragging hours of the bloodied gladiator
the amazon hanging dead
on the tree
at the tip of her braided hair
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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After Hours
Walking down the hallway, its too dark
Too dark too see anything
Why are the lights off
How did they forget I was studying?
I have been at school for 10 hours
I had to go home but I don't know my way
I cant see the hallway its too dark
where am I going?
where do I go?
Stretching my hand out infront
reaching my way home
No windows in the school, but why?
My hand reaches up
A breath crawls over my hand
glowing blue eyes shone
Leading me, not home, but to death
Come on now
the dark voice moans
Do you want to be late home
Then a white storm surrounds me
What is going on?
That night I never came home
But I became a part of something
the memories in the dead pupils
poem by Holly Chanel
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Sorrow Seeks...
Sorrow Seeks...
Sorrow seeks...
Like the roots of weeds
And as the roots grow deeper
the weight descends
Like gnarled hands grasping at your throat
Choking out the beauty within
A dandelion with a face that glows of golden sun
But within the soil it's roots grow so deep
With one pluck you think it is gone for good
Only to return stronger than before
Sorrow seeks...
Like the roots of weeds
4 April 2008
Lino
i trust you and i repeat
the line of our heritage
from trees we come from
rooted to their roots
this time we let go off
our leaves and even some
of our twigs as we pay
tribute to the change of the
season, but soon, Lino,
and i trust you, we become
trees faithful to the sun again,
soon they shall see buds,
growing from new twigs,
roots growing deeper
probing our loneliness.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Standing On The Threshold
Standing on the threshold
Of the growing responsibilities,
I stare and peep out of mirror,
Mirrror of shadowed soul,
I look and rejoice my childhood,
Standing on the threshold.
The innocent dreams behold,
Through imagination, the colorful world,
And try to seek some answers,
The answers may be right or wrong.
I look and rejoice my childhood,
Standing on the threshold.
When decency couldn’t be hold,
And being jealous was not off beam,
When there should be a crowd,
Crowd of plays & players around,
I look and rejoice my childhood,
Standing on the threshold.
There were fairies in stories, told
Which looked real & with soul,
And we used to build our own home,
Home exactly like of fairies land,
I look and rejoice my childhood,
Standing on the threshold.
The hands gradually gets fold,
With my fingers in it hold tightly,
For guiding me all the way,
The way that is now lost,
I look and rejoice my childhood,
Standing on the threshold.
The smile that was clear & bold,
Has now turned very wintry,
The unconditional loud laugh,
Now laughs loudly at me,
I look and rejoice my childhood,
Standing on the threshold.
poem by Sudha Pandey
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The Chomillah palace in Hyderabad
The palace was luminously wet and reached out to sky
In its shadow lay the kings and their faceless women
Whose fine drapery interrupted their noses and seeing eyes
Under big-vaulting domes and resounding halls.
Their noises went up to the ceiling and returned empty
Like their noses and eyes lost from their faces.
They were not lost actually but had never been there.
When the silks arrived they forgot the women’s faces.
The women sat there gossiping about other women,
Other women in the harem and their fine draperies.
Their men’s bloated egos did not show on men’s faces;
Their men’s egos showed on the women’s stomachs, ,
On the little heirs to the throne who came from there.
A fine bangle, a glittering necklace and some pearls
Hush talk about the latest addition to the harem
And other scraps of conversation went on as it rained.
They had no faces for the evening conversation,
Only bodies fully draped in the finest gilded silks.
In the beginning they sat on the ground huddled.
Later the West grew on them in the white man’s land
And they sat on sofas and high backed chairs presiding
Tea ceremonies just like the sophisticated women.
They still did not have their noses on their faces.
poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri
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