There Is This Worm
there is this worm
as usual slimy and long and despised
that gets inside your skin
and you cannot just dispel it out from your system
it asks for a home
and you give one of the pores of you skin
it asks for food
and you become all too willing to share a part of your flesh
and it stays there
and you allow it and you begin to talk like friends
and you welcome it
simply because you have been all too alone
now despite this parasitic relationship
between you and this worm
you keep on keeping it
and they are angry at you and always pester you
with their own philosophies and one day they become silent
you tell them: what do i lose? i have long been nothing anyway.
i don't have any. Not even a lock of hair from you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
The (f) Rying Woman....
to pry upon his weakness and to discover
some artifacts from his house is her past time
and every hour when there is a break from the
wanton hours and the monotonous menu of the day
she opens the usual window and watch what the
worm is doing inside the terrarium
she records the possibility that this can be a landmark
of history and significant for what others say as a phenomenon
other people's lives matter
and sometimes the worm that looks at her too asks: why?
the worm, and she does not know this, is also prying upon her
her shrinking breasts, her skin that looks like dry tobacco leaf
her life that to the worm has become more of a raisin
stuffed inside a boxed, with a history of having been dried by the sun
the worm is fair though, in its latest description
she is still sweet though neutral in smell, and deserves still to be liked to be eaten someday
p.s. the worm remarks, kids will like her.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Worm Either Way
If you live along with all the other people
and are just like them, and conform, and are nice
you're just a worm --
and if you live with all the other people
and you don't like them and won't be like them and won't conform
then you're just the worm that has turned,
in either case, a worm.
The conforming worm stays just inside the skin
respectably unseen, and cheerfully gnaws away at the heart of life,
making it all rotten inside.
The unconforming worm -- that is, the worm that has turned --
gnaws just the same, gnawing the substance out of life,
but he insists on gnawing a little hole in the social epidermis
and poking his head out and waving himself
and saying: Look at me, I am not respectable,
I do all the things the bourgeois daren't do,
I booze and fornicate and use foul language and despise your honest man.--
But why should the worm that has turned protest so much?
The bonnie bonnie bourgeois goes a-whoring up back streets just the same.
The busy busy bourgeois imbibes his little share
just the same
if not more.
The pretty pretty bourgeois pinks his language just as pink
if not pinker,
and in private boasts his exploits even louder, if you ask me,
than the other.
While as to honesty, Oh look where the money lies!
So I can't see where the worm that has turned puts anything over
the worm that is too cunning to turn.
On the contrary, he merely gives himself away.
The turned worm shouts. I bravely booze!
the other says. Have one with me!
The turned worm boasts: I copulate!
the unturned says: You look it.
You're a d----- b----- b----- p----- bb-----, says the worm that's turned.
Quite! says the other. Cuckoo!
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Who Are You?
and the worm
that looks like
a set of thorns
on a glossy leaf
asks the creature
above it with
some wings........................who are you?
and it answered him
i was once in your body
wriggling to be free
asking a lot of questions
to the air and the tree...............i am what you will soon be,
a butterfly...
and the worm does not
believe it greedy as it is
with the sap of the leaves
somehow it feels
something new it is
feeling some wings
growing, some possibilities
lurking inside it.....................................how can this be?
it is the same question
that you have been asking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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what GOD says to all those snakes...
this afternoon some snakes come into the house
(literally not those snakes with slimy skin
and without feet)
for there are snakes that walk like real people
complete with heads and
other usual parts like the way your friends look like
when you dine
and you pay
when they tell you stories and you listen
and you know
that these are all not true
but because of respect you nod just the same
and say, ok, ok, i agree
this afternoon these snakes come to the house
and we had coffee and biscuits
the usual afternoon talk and bonding
i may not have changed, but they do not know that there is also the fox in me
but still considerate and forgiving and patient and kind
all giving
they ask for rice and viand
and they talk about their undeserved poverty
and without questions
i give them what they ask and pray for
no harm
nothing big for such a kind man like me
i am not an angry man
my hands are open, my fingers are spread
like tributaries from the rivers to the seas
sometimes my fingers ache for these friends are snakes and they all
love to bite
blood flows from my tips
and the carpet gets stained
but i am not an angry man
and i am as patient as ten spiders webbing from one wall to the other
well, normal as i am
i get fed up sometimes and tempted to shout and drive them away
but i look to the sky
and talk to my God and then i begin to ask silently
all those questions
how to deal with snakes
and God says: 'my son, these snakes are your brothers and sisters
feed them well, please me
for i am the owner of the sea and the land and the sky
yours is but a coin
a patch, an atom
and so negligible
in fact, my son, you own nothing, you only manage what i own
and give you
feed them all, make them comfortable
do not argue, do not say a dirty word
look at me, they bit me too
but did i say a word? you haven't heard me
for like you, snake or man or god
you are all my children....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Can't Say No
Here I am
There you are
If you ask me to walk a thousand miles just to be where you are,
I can? say no
If you ask me.
If I had a dime, it? yours as well as mine.
I? keep the penny, you know I would and gladly give you the nine.
I can? say no
If you ask me
Ooh, ooh, ooh,
If you told me tonight to get up
Pack my bags let? go away,
I wouldn? even care what my Mommy, what my Daddy might have to say.
?ause I can? say no
If you ask me .
Ooh, ooh no!
(You?e too beautiful to be. to be)
You know I can? say it, baby no!
(You mean everything to me)
No ifs and no maybe?
No!
(that? why I, that? why I, that? why I, that? why)
You know I can? say it baby,
I can? say no
If you ask me.
Ooh ooh ooh. Sometimes I get so angry with him
I walk around I pout all day.
And the he kisses me and asks me do I love him
In a sweet soft sexy kind of way,
I can? say no
If he asks me.
On No I can? say no if he asks me.
I can? so if he asks me
song performed by by Natalie Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Me?
When the hopes are hassled
And relationships are rattled
Naïveté asks, why me?
When wishes are whacked
And dreams are dashed
Naïveté asks, why me?
When fantasies are fettered
And blessings are battered
Naïveté asks, why me?
When desires are demolished
And ambitions are admonished
Naïveté asks, why me?
When temptations are traumatized
And passions are pulverized
Naïveté asks, why me?
Strangely,
Naïveté with influence
And naïveté with affluence
Never asks, why me?
Naïveté with name
And naïveté with fame
Never asks, why me?
Naïveté with health
And naïveté with wealth
Never asks, why me?
Naïveté with fiefdom
And naïveté with wisdom
Never asks, why me?
Naïveté with beauty
And naïveté with booty
Never asks, why me?
poem by Hitesh Sheth
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She Asks Me How Can I Tell Rain From Tears?
we are walking on the free lane
of love
and it starts to rain
and we have no umbrella
and she stays near
my side that i can
smell the scent
of her hair
and she looks at me
and asks me to stop
awhile
and she asks me
if i can tell the difference between
her tears and the rain
and i say yes
my love
i kiss her that long under the heavy rain
and i know how salty are her tears
how deep is her sorrow
and i tell her after
your tears are so sweet.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Monkey In The Neighborhood....
i love that
monkey
it asks food
from me
and when given
it hides
it all inside his
mouth
tongue-in-check
if you have
seen it
and then it asks
some more
begging
like a pitiful
child
without a mother
and if begging
does not work
it charms you
with its tiny hands
its fingers
mapping for
lice
in your hair
while its tail
tickles
your armpit
you feel that
and remember
something before
when you
were once
as young & horny as
that imaginary
gazelle
it is this
begging game
that you like most
you are not
a monkey
stop it
it does not
look good for you
you lose your charm
and even the monkey
thinks
that by imitating it
you have
become detestable.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Not Ennuf Love
[chorus]
Now when you climb
Into your bed tonight
And when you lock
And hold the door
Just think of those
Out in the cold and dark
cause there is not enough love to go round
Now when you climb [fade]
And when you lock [fade]
Just think of those
Out in the cold and dark
cause there is not enough love to go round.
[maxi jazz]
Until you wake up
You people need a shake up
You take up so much time
Worrying, scurrying,
Here, there,
Losing your hear
No money to spare
No love to share
No wonder you appear under pressure from here
You look fresh, yeah
But all I got is dirt in my hear
My nightmares manifest,
But I can escape
Yours is in your chest
With no formal shape
The tape is running
I push the button to send
Upon each other we all depend
Message end
Whoever asks my name
Or where I came from
People fear contamination
If they chary too long
I carry a strong
Sin of despair
Its in the air
Im broken and hard to repair
I may mistaken be
But I patiently wait
On the pad to humanity
I sit at the gates
[chorus]
Now when you climb
Into your bed tonight
And when you lock
And hold the door
Just think of those
Out in the cold and dark
cause there is not enough love to go round
Now when you climb
Into your bed tonight
And when you lock
And hold the door
Just think of those
Out in the cold and dark
cause there is not enough love to go round
[maxi jazz]
Dirty, cold, hurting, soul,
Down the river
My liver in bad condition
Like my skin
Rain falling, once again
Im in my bed
Hurt the time in
Im gonna struggle for air
Theres hair in my food
When I get it usually someone already half ate it
Touch it, not to let it
Get me down
But my head starting to pad
People go round, and round and round
From one I get a cigarette
A little more love found
But the ground is still wet
My chief are chattering
And theres a spattering of seeds
Sometimes I lose all feeling in my feet
When I sleep Ill do my deep in the mainstream
But unaccountably my heart was growing
Small and mean
A hurry past
Ridged people I pretend I havent seen
But theres money in my pocket
And my clothes are clean?
[maxi jazz 4x]
I said money in my pocket
But I just cant give no love
Money in my pocket
But I just cant give no love
[chorus]
Now when you climb
Into your bed tonight
And when you lock
And hold the door
Just think of those
Out in the cold and dark
cause there is not enough love to go round
cause there is not enough love to go round
song performed by by Faithless
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Part 4: The fish saves the worm
The big-mouth fish, snatched the worm.
As the worm was afraid; a small piece of him,
was left, on the sharp object.
The fish cuddle him, in his mouth.
Swimming as fast as he can;
to make it, close to the shore.
The fish, spit him out, on the land.
As the worm landed, he look toward the fish.
And said, ' thank you for not eating me? '
I wish you well, the fish said. Take care!
As the worm grind his way, toward a new place.
Knowing this ain't his home, the ground was moist.
He drilled a hole, and discover a new home.
The End....
poem by Derrick Clark
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I'll Give You My Skin (feat. Michael Stipe)
I'll Give You My Skin" is a song written by both of the girls with
Michael Stipe. I kinda suspect that the lyrics are mostly Stipe.
Anyway, I'm told that it was recorded at the end of 1988, while the
girls were recording their first Epic album. It appears on the "Tame
Yourself" benefit compilation. Go buy it.
I'll Give You My Skin.
Well, you - you can sit in your high chairs
High chairs are for children
You can sit in your high chairs and laugh
I'll give you my best face
I'll give you my freedom
I'll give you my feet and my hands
I'm keeping my eyes
Open, open, open to the field
Hold your dances there
Take the crop
Share the yield
You can join us together
Break us apart
A wound in the skin is a break in the heart
You can coast on your laughter
High shelf your heart
But laughter's for healing, not tearing apart
I'm keeping my eyes
Open to the fields
You can hold your dances there
Take the crop
Share the yield
Not a soul is lost
For collapsing the walls
You can dance in the dust
You can walk it off, walk, walk it off
If you're fallin', you're fallin'
Come callin' to me
Fallin', Fallin'
I'll give you my skin
I will give you my skin
I'm keeping my eyes
Open to the field
(If you're fallin, you're fallin', come callin' to me)
You can hold your dances here
(If you're fallin, you're fallin', come callin' to me)
Take the crop, share the yield
(If you're fallin, you're fallin', come callin' to me)
I'm keeping my eyes
(If you're fallin, you're fallin', come callin' to me)
Open to the field
(If you're fallin, you're fallin', come callin' to me)
Hold your dances there
(If you're fallin, you're fallin', come callin' to me)
Take the crop, share the yield
(If you're fallin, you're fallin', come callin' to me)
If you're fallin, you're fallin', come callin' to me
If you're fallin, you're fallin', come callin' to me
I will give you my skin
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dr Worm
They call me Dr. Worm,
Good morning, how are you? I'm Dr. Worm.
I'm interested in things,
I'm not a real doctor but I am a real worm,
I am an actual worm,
I live like a worm.
I like to play the drums.
I think I'm getting good, but I can handle criticism.
I'll show you what I know and you can
Tell me if you think I'm getting better on the drums
I'll leave the front unlocked 'cause I can't
Hear the doorbell...
When I get into it, I can't tell if you are
Watching me twirling the stick.
When I give the signal, my friend
Rabbi Vole will play the solo...
Someday, somebody else besides me will
Call me by my stage name, they will
Call me Dr. Worm,
Good morning, how are you? I'm Dr. Worm.
I'm interested in things.
I'm not a real doctor but I am a real worm,
I am an actual worm,
I live like a worm.
And I like to play the drums,
I think I'm getting good, but I can handle criticism.
I'll show you what I know and you can
Tell me if you think I'm getting better on the drums.
I'm not a real doctor, but they call me
Dr. Worm!
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Doctor Worm
They call me dr. worm.
Good morning. how are you? Im dr. worm.
Im interested in things.
Im not a real doctor,
But I am a real worm;
I am an actual worm.
I live like a worm.
I like to play the drums.
I think Im getting good,
But I can handle criticism.
Ill show you what I know,
And you can tell me if you think Im getting better on the drums.
Ill leave the front un-locked cause I cant
Hear the doorbell
When I get into it I cant tell if you are
Watching me twirling the stick.
When I give the signal, my friend
Rabbi vole will play the solo
Some day somebody else besides me will
Call me by my stage name, they will
Call me dr worm.
Good morning how are you, Im dr worm
Im interested in things.
Im not a real doctor,
But I am a real worm;
I am an actual worm.
I live like a worm.
I like to play the drums.
I think Im getting good,
But I can handle criticism.
Ill show you what I know,
And you can tell me if you think Im getting better on the drums.
Im not a real doctor,
But they call me dr. worm.
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Was Never There to Trust
How long...
Do you think we can carry on,
A relationship that has ended
Its mending.
When we once tried to begin,
Again!
How long...
Is a goodbye we said before.
When a door that was closed...
Was never to be opened.
And we parted to be friends,
Again!
Why?
Why do we do this to try...
Something not meant to be for us.
Why can't we just forget this.
To quit it.
And walk away to stay that way.
And why?
Why do we hurt ourselves.
Hoping that no one else...
Will come between us.
When love was never there,
To trust!
How long...
Do you think we can carry on,
A relationship that has ended
Its mending.
When we once tried to begin,
Again!
How long...
Is a goodbye we said before.
When a door that was closed...
Should never been then opened.
To let heartbreak begin,
Again!
Tell me why?
Why do we do this to try.
Why can't we be the friends we could have been,
Before.
Before we thought we had much more!
And what was that did we explore...
Before?
But then again,
Perhaps...
Our friendship,
Was never one that ended.
Since one between us ever did begin!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Have Worms Inside My Mouth
at first i wanted to spit them all
wanting to relieve myself
with all the hassle
in keeping worms
that my friends detest
they tell me
that i must spit them all
for reasons of
sanitation
or perhaps
for my own sanity
i think about it
and the possibilities
of finally throwing up
after all i get
nauseous
this feeling of trying to hide
some things
inside the mouth
(do you know
about it?)
i could not do the throwing up
and so
the worms are still there
it is something
about giving them
temporary shelter
a home
i did not listen to myself
i did not listen to their advices
i decided to keep the worms for good
swallowing each worm
sliding in my esophagus
and finally settling inside the
rooms of my heart
i dream about each worm
wriggling inside my brain
but i keep them still
despite the mixed feelings of
pleasure and pain
one day
the worms become butterflies
and i feel ready for
this beautiful eventuality
i look up
to the heavens
on a very bright day
i spit them
all free
to the skies to the clouds
and to the trees
where they all
rightfully belong
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Fishy Mystery
Here I am a fish
swimming with my friend Jack
as content as content can be,
then Jack says food ahead.
Hmm, I wonder as I spy
the wriggling worm ahead.
Jack swims with his mouth open
and then the next minute Jack and worm are gone.
My friends disappear like
that whenever food is around.
One minute we are happily swimming together
and then the next the food and they are gone.
Sadly they never come back
to say where they had gone
which only leaves me here
with a bit of a fishy mystery.
4 July 2010
poem by David Harris
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It's time for a little timelessness
I said to the stone,
What time is it?
The stone was silent.
I said to the eagle,
What day is it?
The eagle looked fiercely at me,
Then turned its head away.
I said to the oak tree,
How long were you there?
Silently, the oak tree grew.
I said to the worm,
How long will you take?
The worm continued on its way.
I said to the river,
What takes you so long?
The river ran as ever.
I said to the sun,
Shall we meet here tomorrow?
Shining, the sun gave no sign.
I said to the milk,
When was I born?
Flowing, the milk had no answer.
I said to the earth,
When will you expect me?
The earth held its peace.
And Pooh Bear looked at me very seriously
and said,
‘It’s always time for something..’
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Ebony Princess
Her hair was as black as the calm of the night
And was as black and as dark as I could see
Her body slowly moved like a bird in flight
I saw her, and I was overwhelmed by her beauty.
Her eyes they shined like a full moon glistened
And her smile was that of a new day sun
My soul before her was locked away in prison
And releasing that key, it had already begun.
Her skin was as soft as the finest silk
And her lips they tempted me with their mystery
Her teeth they sparkled and was white as milk
And her skin, was the color of ebony.
I looked at her and then my look became a stare
She became my muse and also my destiny
Her skin was dark and black was her hair
Then she whispered in my ear, "Don't forget me".
"Don't Forget me", she whispered those words to me
And like a raven with secrets she went away
With her skin so soft and the color of ebony
I pray again that we would meet again one day.
Her name forever is locked inside of my heart
And it will be lost, until to God her name I will confess
Until then if any man asks me who was the beauty of my art
My answer will be, my sweet and beautiful ebony princess.
RANDY L. McCLAVE
poem by Randy McClave
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Loquacious
this afternoon, i talk a lot, and the more i talk,
the more words flowed from my mouth, the more i become less
of myself,
that is the irony of talking, the more i empty myself of this burden
using words, the lighter i become, the more useless i become of myself,
words and more words,
the more i have of them, the more meaningless my thoughts have become
and they who are listening have become more silent than ever,
i know, their minds are somewhere else, and i know that they know
that there is this spirit in front of them so restless,
wriggling like a worm, jumping like a horse, flapping like a bird
wanting to get rid of something: the fruit wanting to be free from the worm,
the horse from a gadfly, and the bird from the pricking flea....
what else can they say? they must have been saying.
we perfectly understand, we have been there, we were once a fruit
with a worm in our pulp, a horse with a gadfly in our tail,
a bird unable to get rid of the flea....
we were rotten once, we jumped the more, and now we are flying away.
what a life we have, we are never free, and we are never for even once
comfortable with what we are and what we have....
what we do not have of course, is what bothers us the most.
be it a horse, a bird, or a fruit, a flea, a worm, a gadfly of old
like what Socrates once mentioned before he took the fatal poison.
well he died, and here we are always trying to remember.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Chambermaid's Second Song
From pleasure of the bed,
Dull as a worm,
His rod and its butting head
Limp as a worm,
His spirit that has fled
Blind as a worm.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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