The Routine
the routine is the path to
a prejudice
the stones there becomes our ordinary stones
the colors are the same everyday
and stopping becomes a stranger
the world rotates upon itself
and there are no questions addressed
to the passing wind
and even the fire that puts itself off
without your asking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What We Have Become
in the shallow part of the river
we decide to play: life is a game
we like to believe that
our arms drip like cold water
on the side of the glass
that you hold when you have felt
the first thirst
i shall not satisfy you
and so i have become the bait
of the fish
you have become more interested
on what i have to say
not to be mistaken as trivial
i have also taken more glances at you
i believe you
and so with this trust i ask you to go with me
to the deep part of the sea
i swim first then you follow
you know how to swim and you swim well in fact
like a fish
at the shallow part
i told you that nothing is hidden
nothing signifies anything
the stones are stones
and nothing else
your questions are just ordinary questions
which i have answered to well
and you believe me more until
we dive deep
deeper into the ocean floor
where the sands though silent
have more to say
than what i can tell you
the stones on the sides of the deep
now are telling you more
and you begin to understand
why for all those years
on that dry land
i have kept my silence
my distance.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Air is a Root
The air is a root.
The stones are filled with tenderness. bravo.
bravo. the stones are filled with air.
the stones are watery branches.
on the stones replacing the mouth
grows the skeleton of a leaf. bravo.
A stone voice face to face and foot to foot
with a stone glance.
the stones are tormented like flesh
the stones are clouds for their second
nature dances to them on their third nose.
bravo. bravo.
when the stones scratch themselves, nails grow
on the roots. bravo. bravo.
the stones woke to eat the exact
hour
Rucksack Full Of Stones
A Babe…
Born perfect, innocent, ready
Cast into a corrupt world
Parents eagerly present
A family heirloom
A patchwork rucksack
Part-filled with stones
To a wide-eyed child
Begins the journey…
Child given stones of many shapes, sizes
Stones of pity, sorrow, fear, trauma
Stones filled with words like “No”
Stones filled with ugly phrases
Stones filled with abuse, punishment, pain
Rucksack seams burgeon
A growing Soul shouts
“Enough”
Emptying begins…
Through lessons, experiences, prayer
One by one
Removed the stones
Rucksack lightens
By the Grace of God,
Finally emptied
Another Babe born
Rucksack beckons
“Not this time”
Rucksack flung
Into Wisdom’s Fire
Consumed
Ends a vicious cycle…
poem by Ray Lucero
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Stones
Stones
Stones would play inside her head
And where she slept,
They made her bed
And she would ache
For love and get but stones
La la la la la la la la la
Lordy, child
A good days comin
And Ill be there to let the sun in
And bein lost
Is worth the comin home
La la la la la la la la la on stones
You and me, a time for planting
You and me, a harvest granting
The every prayer ever prayed
For just two wild flowers that grow
La la la la la la la la la on stones
Mmmmmmmm.....
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sabbath Stones
Fire and water, wind and rain
Wings that carry hell in every vein
World possessions, endless taers
Truth and knowledge stolen all their years
World turns slowly, sun dont shine
Silence stills the air and kills the chime
Words are poison, passion bleeds
2000 years on earth has sown the seeds
The time of dreams has turned
The night is gone and light shines on
Where darkness once would hide
With spirits high, our fears were born
Receiver of light, the kingdom of God will guide you
Keep you from a restless heart
Deceiver of night, the stranger that laughs
Within you, the reason for the restless heart
Is the keeper of the sabbath stones
Fire and water, wind and rain
Wings that carry hell in every vein
World turns slowly, sun dont shine
Silence stills the air and kills the chime
Can faith destroy desire? each breath a prayer
Each step brings fear
The eyes of they that see have evil stare
Watch over me
Receiver of light, the kingdom of God will guide you
Keep you from a restless heart
Deceiver of night, the stranger that laughs
Within you, the reason for the restless heart
Is the keeper of the sabbath stones
And hes the keeper of the sabbath stones
What God is this that stands to hear his people cry?
What hand would strike and watch his people die?
What life that takes, what future did we earn?
Its our mistakes, take heed the sabbath stones
What life that takes what future did we earn?
Its our mistakes
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Scars of Tomorrow
The scars of tomorrow
are now to be carved
for these stones on my road
are piled up high to the stars.
Thus a head wind named fate
can bare me to stay the course
can fling every single stone
into my torn and tortured soul.
He’s intended to lead me astray,
but on this path I won’t stray!
So may a thousand stones be thrown by fate
as such may hurt, wound and rage,
on my path I won't abide in sorrow
for every wound will cure and heal
to the scars of tomorrow
poem by Flandu Flandu
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Benediction
speak to me as if you knew me...
there are no walls, no distant shores.
the stones on the path will not
hurt your bare feet....
the fire will not burn your hands.
eyes fly like crows across distance,
be it across the room,
or across the world...
and pages are written
with the pens of angels,
to be thrown into the wind.
my heart cries for deliverance...
your tongue rests against my arm....
seize the moment, for there is no tomorrow,
the world waits in benediction!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Temporary Poem Of My Time
Hebrew writing and Arabic writing go from east to west,
Latin writing, from west to east.
Languages are like cats:
You must not stroke their hair the wrong way.
The clouds come from the sea, the hot wind from the desert,
The trees bend in the wind,
And stones fly from all four winds,
Into all four winds. They throw stones,
Throw this land, one at the other,
But the land always falls back to the land.
They throw the land, want to get rid of it.
Its stones, its soil, but you can't get rid of it.
They throw stones, throw stones at me
In 1936, 1938, 1948, 1988,
Semites throw at Semites and anti-Semites at anti-Semites,
Evil men throw and just men throw,
Sinners throw and tempters throw,
Geologists throw and theologists throw,
Archaelogists throw and archhooligans throw,
Kidneys throw stones and gall bladders throw,
Head stones and forehead stones and the heart of a stone,
Stones shaped like a screaming mouth
And stones fitting your eyes
Like a pair of glasses,
The past throws stones at the future,
And all of them fall on the present.
Weeping stones and laughing gravel stones,
Even God in the Bible threw stones,
Even the Urim and Tumim were thrown
And got stuck in the beastplate of justice,
And Herod threw stones and what came out was a Temple.
Oh, the poem of stone sadness
Oh, the poem thrown on the stones
Oh, the poem of thrown stones.
Is there in this land
A stone that was never thrown
And never built and never overturned
And never uncovered and never discovered
And never screamed from a wall and never discarded by the builders
And never closed on top of a grave and never lay under lovers
And never turned into a cornerstone?
Please do not throw any more stones,
You are moving the land,
The holy, whole, open land,
You are moving it to the sea
And the sea doesn't want it
The sea says, not in me.
Please throw little stones,
Throw snail fossils, throw gravel,
Justice or injustice from the quarries of Migdal Tsedek,
Throw soft stones, throw sweet clods,
Throw limestone, throw clay,
Throw sand of the seashore,
Throw dust of the desert, throw rust,
Throw soil, throw wind,
Throw air, throw nothing
Until your hands are weary
And the war is weary
And even peace will be weary and will be.
Translated from the Hebrew by Barbara and Benjamin Harshav
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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Blame It On The Stones
Mister marvin middle class is really in a stew
Wondrin what the younger generations coming to
And the taste of his martini doesnt please his bitter tongue
Blame it on the rolling stones.
Blame it on the stones; blame it on the stones
Youll feel so much better, knowing you dont stand alone
Join the accusation; save the bleeding nation
Get it off your shoulders; blame it on the stones
Mother tells the ladies at the bridge club every day
Of the rising price of tranquilizers she must pay
And she wonders why the children never seem to stay at home
Blame it on the rolling stones.
Blame it on the stones; blame it on the stones
Youll feel so much better, knowing you dont stand alone
Join the accusation; save the bleeding nation
Get it off your shoulders; blame it on the stones
Fathers at the office, nightly working all the time
Trying to make the secretary change her little mind
And it bothers him to read about so many broken homes
Blame it on those rolling stones.
Blame it on the stones; blame it on the stones
Youll feel so much better knowing you dont stand alone
Join the accusation; same the bleeding nation
Get it off your shoulders; blame it on the stones
Blame it on the stones, blame it on the stones.
song performed by by Kris Kristofferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Less Asylum
This fake city
encounters
a thundering
moment; I go down
coveting a mating
call from an explosion
of hallowed
questions, with no answers.
Stones were after all
stones, not gems of knowledge.
How can you make a
universal elixir figuratively
out of garbage of
human tongues?
poem by Satish Verma
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World is stopping,
World is stopping,
World is stopping all moving,
World is making all destruction,
World is stopping to see a Revolution,
World is stopping to see feigned verses Unfeigned,
World is stopping to see us dead to live,
World is stopping to see burdens Increase,
World is stopping to see us going to Hell,
World is stopping so that we do the Will of Truth,
That the Truth is a lie to many people,
But Truth is living by the will of the Unseen,
Since He does not exist,
He really does exist.
poem by Maxpoet Beauty
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Stranger In The Wind...
Stranger in the wind...
Beckons at my door.
Stanger in the wind...
Wanting even more.
Stranger in the wind...
Hard to really ignore.
Stranger in the wind..
Making my heart ache, as sore.
Stranger in the wind...
Rapping at my door.
Stanger in the wind...
Who knows i am so poor.
Stranger in the wind...
My time here-has me bore...
Many aches and pains of a thirsting heart...
Can only be quenched by ye, your remembered part.
Stranger in the wind...
My heart, you'll win.
Stranger in the wind...
Yon soul so deep.
Stranger in the wind...
My heart you'll keep.
Stranger in the wind...
my soul you'll reap.
Stranger in the wind...
You make me weep.
poem by Michael Gale
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She Ain't Your Ordinary Girl
(Robert Jason)
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
She don't love carelessly that's what I've always heard
'Can't use the usual lines she measures every word
No empty promises proof is what it takes to win her heart
The truth and nothing less, simple things that set her far apart
Save your diamonds and your furs she's not your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary, no she's not
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary, oh no
She ain't your ordinary girl
No midnight alibis, no foolish games for her
And if you cross the line you'll get what you deserve
But when you see her smile nothing seems to matter anymore
And in a little while you'll feel like you've never felt before
Like no other in the world, she's not your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary, no she's not
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary, oh no
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
Save your diamonds and your furs, she ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fantastic Stones
Fantastic stones so outlandish,
Them fallacies of the brave,
A pixie will attack a leprechaun,
When the fairy will falter.
This is no misconception.
Stones are burning bright with power
For the cowards who have swine and elves.
Fantastic tremendous stones.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Parts Of Me
There is one part of me that
Feels safe sometimes, that part of me
That doesn’t go outside of my front door and
Just stays home and listens to music playing and
Sings along softly to the tunes while
I paint my life’s story in vivid colors or
Write my testimony over and over again, though in different words every time-
My dream being that someday I shall be discovered
As the person I truly am-
That person who wants the world to know
That the path I have walked has been
Scattered with stones and branches of fallen trees-
And how I have bent over to collect those stones and
How I have kicked the branches aside- That person I truly am who
Is like a bird with broken wings but has found a way to fly-
Perhaps not high in the sky but flying, just the same or
Maybe as a deer with a broken leg who still can run,
Perhaps not at a galloping speed but running just the same-
There is a part of me that is terrified and has always been-
Terrified of the people in this world so vast and so threatening-
I have found myself a cave inside of which to hide and
Here I can sing, dance or just merely talk- I have pulled the curtains shut and as I
Whisper words as incoherent as they may be-
It hardly matters because no one is here to
Slight me or to interrupt my performance-
So many have often said how lonely I must be-
Living alone inside my shelter, though a safe place for me to hide-
Safe with the curtains drawn, windows shut and doors locked and chained-
This one part of me is none but victorious as
I call myself a survivor, having collected all of the stones and
Having kicked all of the branches on the paths I walk aside-
Happy to be here at home- singing and dancing-
I can laugh and run about here and sometimes when I step outside my sanctuary
If only for a moment and I could tell any passerby –
I am never alone, never lonely because
The whole world could disappear within a gust of wind- and
I am not alone in this world or never lonely only because-
Even if every person in this world would vanish, I shall always have myself-
The tunes I carry- the canvas upon which I majestically paint my life’s story-
And most of all- my dreams-
poem by Claudia Krizay
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The Genius In Each Of Us
the genius in each of us
lies in the ordinariness of the clothes we wear
and the ordinary walk that we take on ordinary lanes
the genius of air, and sunlight, and wind
the one that gets inside us without notice
yet makes everyone live
the one that caresses us without feeling
so important and yet makes us survive
the one that refreshes us in the shores
along ships that we are in
taking us to our destinations
tell me if they have special names and special
functions
the ordinary air, the ordinary sunlight, the ordinary wind
is that not the genius of the earth
the fire, the land, the sky
are they not so ordinary for us to take and use and love?
they are the strokes of the genius of the Lord
and yet they never have names of their own
they are everywhere, they are anywhere.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wordsmith
i build
my own fire
and keep
my own
anvil
everyday
i hammer words
eunuchs
turning into fairies
beasts
into princes
stones
into flowers
a grain of sand
into something
universally divine
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Blue Stone
Someday, when you are twenty-four and walking through
The street of a foreign city...
Let me go with you a little way,
Let me be that stranger you won't notice.
And when you turn and enter a bar full of young men
and women, and your laughter rises,
Like the stones of a path up a mountain,
To say that no one has died,
I promise I will not follow.
poem by Larry Levis
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A Picture Of Colors
A picture of colors
A purple forest of colors
A balloon of colors
A blue fantasy of colors
This is what our planet should be
A whirlwind of colors
A white world of colors
A resting place of colors
A red hideaway of colors
This is what it should look like
A ‘yes' world of colors
A yellow rainbow of colors
A graced hill of colors
A green meadow of colors
An overflowing basket of colors
An orange bowl of colors
This would be a perfect place
I Am Troubled!
i am troubled...
lord, i am troubled.
i hear the cries
of starving children.
i feel the bombs,
burning up the night.
i smell poverty,
and i taste injustice.
i shudder at prejudice,
i write the prayers
of the forgotten...
and sign their names
on unmarked stones.
what have i done...
lord, what have i done?
with this life,
this path, this cross.
i feel guilty,
and i know their suffering.
i cant help but wonder,
what i could have done
to stop the flood.
i am troubled...
lord, i am troubled.
have i been silent for too long.
and have my words
fallen like ashes,
driven by the mongrel wind.
i am troubled...
lord, i am troubled!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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