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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i wish i have a mouth that knows how to speak my love
i wish i have this kind of mouth that knows to speak
about my love
one that opens so easily and dashes with words like
you know i love you, tell me, do you love me too?
a candid mouth, like a shrew who gambles with words and
will not mind losing
a mouth who kisses your mouth without
shame and if shamed because you slap it
does not bother at all,
one who says, why hide love, why not pour love like a
strong wine to a chalice and let it warm
the glass and let the glass
be nothing but a glass
one that does not mind at all, one that loves and if not loved in
return takes the other possibilities
without regrets
or pain,
the mouth that i have is closed and will not open
afraid
i have kept the words
i love you only for you
like a worm inside my tongue,
wriggling
turning into a little butterfly
that never had the chance to see what is outside
and feel the freedom of air,
yesterday
it died and i keep it for the whole night
now, i spit it out
and my mouth closed again
eating only silence
while you just watch there
asking me
and i said there is nothing to worry
nothing at all
i just don't feel anything and there is nothing
worth saying, i look at you as you go, i hold only to your shadow
and you will never never never know,
this
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Wish I Have A Mouth That Knows How To Speak My Love
i wish i have this kind of mouth that knows to speak
about my love
one that opens so easily and dashes with words like
you know i love you, tell me, do you love me too?
a candid mouth, like a shrew who gambles with words and
will not mind losing
a mouth who kisses your mouth without
shame and if shamed because you slap it
does not bother at all,
one who says, why hide love, why not pour love like a
strong wine to a chalice and let it warm
the glass and let the glass
be nothing but a glass
one that does not mind at all, one that loves and if not loved in
return takes the other possibilities
without regrets
or pain,
the mouth that i have is closed and will not open
afraid
i have kept the words
i love you only for you
like a worm inside my tongue,
wriggling
turning into a little butterfly
that never had the chance to see what is outside
and feel the freedom of air,
yesterday
it died and i keep it for the whole night
now, i spit it out
and my mouth closed again
eating only silence
while you just watch there
asking me
and i said there is nothing to worry
nothing at all
i just don't feel anything and there is nothing
worth saying, i look at you as you go, i hold only to your shadow
and you will never never never know,
this
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Every Aspect Of It!
Just because you do not see me driving,
Do not assume I am not licensed to drive.
Or that I do not 'think'...
Because I do not look the part.
You don't see half the things I do and have done.
Nor are you on my agenda.
And folks who focus their sights on others...
Are the first who find these times we live,
Difficult to adjust.
Even though they feel they 'must'...
Demand understanding,
Without participating in the development of it.
You know the kind...?
The ears closed, mouth open types!
With claims they don't know what is going on!
And rush they do to prevent,
The circumstances of truth.
Coming to bombard and overwhelm.
With the consequences of their ignorance.
You know the kind...?
The ears closed, mouth open types!
Yet conflict they are quick to define...
Instead of using their minds to take time,
Comprehending remedies.
To set aside a strategy...
To stop the havoc that has begun,
Happening in their own lives.
You know the kind...?
The ears closed, mouth open types!
And this kind of mindset today,
Is reflected on a massive scale.
People into minding the business of others...
Have found their business in shambles.
Every aspect of it!
With shock and disbelief,
As a return for their 'investment'!
You know the kind...?
The ears closed, mouth open types!
The ones who rush to cover their butts,
With implusive mindless decisions!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My weakness
Dark, dark, dark
That what I see
And what I feel
Pain sorrow miserable
Are living in my heart
Everything around me
It so dark
Even though I try so hard
To find some light
But the only thing that appear
Is the lonely dark
I closed my eyes
And listen hardly
But the only thing
That I can hear
Is the silent of the death?
I open my mouth
Try to shout and scream
No voice is coming out
I’m so scared
And lonely
I feel so weak
My hand and legs
Start shaking
My tears fall down
I try to stop it
But it won’t stop
So I lay down
And cry like a baby
That lost from his mother
Wishing that some one
Will take my hand
And tell me it’s ok
You not alone
I’m with you
But that only a wish
It won’t come true
So I give up and closed my eyes
Waiting for my destiny
With my tears running in peace
poem by Nouri Queen
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Closed Door
sometimes we want to enter
a door
a closed door that does not open
no matter how hard we
knock
we try being courteous and gentle
and so patient
eating every waiting time
like we are the most foolish of all fools
knocking a closed door
seducing it more often with our
pleadings
begging and even compromising
for a dance
to convince the owner of the door to
open it
but no one hears, no one cares to listen
to our pleadings,
no one likes the dance of compromises
the door is still closed
and then the last crooked thing happens
we take the axe
and break the door which is closed
forcing it open
only to find that all the people there are dead
there is nothing inside
but mystery and
grief
an unsolved crime, no more
no less.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Our Love
sweet love enters the mouth
from your mouth
sweet love from the sweat
of your body
sweet love from the fluids
of your groans
to the stiffness of my
pleasures
love hovers in the eyes
closed eyes in ecstasy
that is what is truth
that is it all about
the time for growing old
and death comes
i take everything every fluid in my mouth
and then i look at you
with all the wasted years that we share
i hear you speaking through a sigh.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Mind Is An Oyster
The heart, can only be as open as the mind.
The mind, the creator of my world.
Not the world, but my world.
The mind, building walls.
Walls of fear, resentment and bitterness.
The spirit is trapped.
Bouncing from heart to mind.
Like a ping pong ball.
For it is my mind that is closed.
I listened to the teachings of other closed minded teachers.
They speak of a peace, they do not have.
The preach of a love, that they still seek.
The world is my oyster.
My mind is an oyster.
To find the pearl, the shell must first open up.
It is once the mind opens, I can connect to the source.
The source that tells me I am the true treasure.
I see so many closed shells.
For their pearl is as brilliant as mine.
But through the closed shell it cannot be seen.
They do not know they are just as rich as I.
So they try to take mine, because their shell is too difficult to open.
My shell is open.
I do not want your treasure for myself,
I have my own.
I am content.
I want your shell to open,
I want you and the world to see the brilliance of yours.
For it is when the mind opens,
Your true life will begin.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Behind Closed Doors
Written by new order
There is a secret place
Underneath a tree
Where if you go and haste
You will find a key
The key will open doors
And you will look inside
The things that you will see
Will open up your eyes
At any given time
On every other street
The city comes to life
Though everyones asleep
A man beats up his wife
He doesnt wanna keep
Behind closed doors
Theyre in retreat
I dont know what makes me stay
The city life just aint the same
Theres something wrong with kids today
I blame the parents anyway
Theres no hope
No one to trust
I cant cope
Its obvious
Please dont take my drugs away
Im gonna give them up someday
There is a place somewhere
That I could call a home
Id live without a care
Id never be alone
One day I will get there
I feel it in my bones
I check upon the scores
I listen to the coors
Behind closed doors
Behind closed doors
Behind closed doors
Behind closed doors
They still want more
Behind closed doors
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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inside Facebook
i am a song there
ready to be sung
you can sing me
if you want
i am my own lyrics
the notes are
taken from the
mouth of the bird
that sings only
at night
i am a song there
hanging upon a tree
like a very ripe fruit
you can pick me
and taste me
and then tell me
if i am selfish
for i am not
i am an offering
and you must not refuse
i am a song there
sing me and then
i will listen
and then i will know
who i am
where i am going
what i will become
it is your hum
your singing me
that can make me alive
your mouth can make
me a new bird
singing another song
for this world
tonight
look, the stars are listening
the moon is ready
for this dance of love
tonight
i am a song there
sing me now
give me life
touch me so tenderly
like a woman.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Why Did God Close That Door?
He closed the door
and touches you but
you do not understand
why.
You silently cry.
He hears it.
You still do not understand
why that door is closed.
Until you find smoke
in the sky
Until you hear about
the dead people
in the room
Now you know why He kept
on closing the door
And here is one that He
opens for you
He says Welcome
This is the home reserved for you
Beloved.
Inside it is a garden
Flowers bloom
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You Look Familiar
Advice:
When selecting someone to dislike...
If one has a need to have this done.
It is best to choose someone,
Who is not directly connected...
To cause an effect that may upset one's survival.
Many people discriminately dislike others,
For no apparent reason at all.
Only to discover they know someone's sister or brother,
That's related to the one who decides...
Who gets fired or hired.
OR...
A promotion of a known adversary is done,
To make someone's life as miserable as possible.
And the boss just happens to be everyone's cousin.
And...
There is nothing like witnessing someone's eyes pop,
Wide open...
Upon discovering who has been chosen,
To call the shots!
There is nothing like the experience of it.
When one feels a churning in the stomach.
And your mouth opens with jaws ready to drop.
How can anyone not notice you are shocked!
'You look familiar?
Oooooohhh!
Yeahssss...
You have no idea how happy I am 'you' are on my team!
I have just the right project for you.
You and I will be working very closely together.'
And you look around knowing,
You have been negatively exposed.
With a mouth wide open you should have kept closed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Secret Place
i only have the key to that door.
i can open it anytime and stay there for a while
away from the crowd
away from the daily occurrences
it is a closed door
conference with myself where i talk and listen at the same time
it is dark but it is peaceful
it is small but everything in me is there: whole and intact
i only have the key
and i am not opening
or when i open it
i keep it closed that way
it is sacred
as sacred as my secret
it is holy
as holy as my soul
it is a mystery
for all the things that i worship
it is mine
and you are not welcome.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An Over and Done and An Exit Out
Some people have a tendency,
To embrace nonsense.
As if it is an appendage.
While those who have become offended by this...
Decide to exhaust all tolerance for it's appearance.
The 'nonsensical' then become offended,
When an attention is suspended from them.
But a caring that has lessened immensely...
Is still giving these folks a bit too much respect,
That needs to end...
Period.
With an over and done,
And an exit out!
With no pouting to exchange.
But definitely...
A silent and closed mouth.
Until a point made has been established.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Suppressed Anger
it is as if the belly of a woman
is pregnant with a very long snake
and slowly it exits its way
through the esophagus
but you cannot see it first
because the teeth is still gritting
and the mouth is still closed
but on the spur of the moment
when restraint gives way
the mouth suddenly opens
the teeth stops gritting
and the head of that very long snake
comes out
showing its sharp fang
and suddenly
without any talk
bites the object of its
affection.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ring Worm Seeds
Tighten up and closed bottle
Living inside protected
Seems to be in safety
Label within guaranty
Before the given time passed
Agents of ring worm seeds
Struggle inside though it is
Closed and protected
Guaranty can be and may be
But inside from bottom
Living beings pressure to open
To do or not
To live or not
Inside being rotten
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.
quote by Mark Twain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Woman And Poetry
writing poems together
with that woman is so much fun
i write mine, (i am much better than that woman)
i ask her to read my poems she obliges with her spectacles
as she opens her mouth to syllabicate
i gulp some saliva to my mouth
this woman is terrible
she makes me giggle
i have her word for word i have her metaphor per metaphor
there is no time to discuss
i like her to undress this time
i'll take the magic of her word
this time i will open my mouth
this time i will read all of her
i will not discuss i will not understand
i will just feel these metaphors
this mouth this tongue this body
this most important poetry
this love this lust this moment
after we have written
our poems together.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Scene In Black And White
the sickness of our existence on the last hour
looks at everything as a movie trailer,
one scene to another flashing,
when these flashes end, you put your hands inside your pocket
keep your mouth closed, and then you look up, verifying if there is a new opening
an entrance where you shall begin anew
because in truth you want to live some more
live again
forgetting the first trauma years and years ago in one corner of that old hospital in black and white
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What Could Have Been Unreal
there is a sorrow that i do not want to speak
it is something that i cannot give away
there is time that keeps on going and if i stay
i will just be left out and buried in this delay
there is a grief that cannot really be spoken
there is this pain that goes on and one
there are empty parks and empty cafes
there are closed doors and locked rooms
there is this self sometimes that does not open
there are fingers that remain closed upon themselves
there is a song that i can only sing inside myself
there is this poem that keeps on evading what is it that could have been said
all these are mine alone and all these keep me moving on
remembering, loving in silence, keeping the tears frozen, creating what could have been unreal.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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She Played Softball
'I don't want to hear...
Another thing from you,
Young man!
Do you understand? '
My mother would often say.
So I showed her my notes,
Expressing my opinion!
Always with my mouth closed.
And prepared to duck.
She played softball in those days.
And had a mean pitch!
My father was a boxer.
I never approached him,
With anything I wrote!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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