Things With Stories Of Their Own
overused
lipstick, abused plate and spoon,
molested carpets,
a breakdown of shattered
glasses in the living room,
wasted wine,
roasted pork,
over fried chicken legs
egg broiled
with black sulfur
smoked chimney,
candle floors, oiled skins,
dyed hair
snake pit, outgrown shoes,
dry leaves, crying babies,
foul socks, suckers,
milestones, limestone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Snake Dinner
A snake dinner anyone?
Now, don’t go shakin’ your head
You just might really like it
Not necessarily something to dread
I’ve heard snake is delicious
And there are lots that you can do
To spark and spruce it right up
Whatever works for you
Pour on catsup perhaps?
Or a little bit of red wine?
Mustard or hot sauce?
Whatever you like is fine
Maybe braised or broiled
Or sautéed right in a pan
Add veggies perhaps for stew
Whatever you have on hand
I’d imagine they’re like frog legs
They say frogs taste like chicken
All crispy and deep fried
Hey, it really sounds finger lickin’
So, I’ll tell you what I’ll do
I’m gonna head out very soon
If I get a chance I’ll try some snake
You might sing a different tune!
poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Host
Ive read you well
I just want to get away
Cos you used my love
I just need to get away
My trust in you has been abused
My trust in you has been overused
Sick of this space
Wish we could be far away
Cos I wasted all my youth
Ill never see it again
My trust in you has been abused
My trust in you has been overused
Why can you get everything?
Can you tell me why I just want to run away?
Can you tell me why I just want to get away?
I just want to get away...
I just wanted too much
I wish we could be far away
And if my wish comes true
Youll never see me again
song performed by by Muse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alone.....
... is such a much abused,
molested than ever
overused, cliche
of the century, spoken
by the majority,
a cancer, a lump,
a freckle, a wound,
a scar, but no matter
how i hate this,
my God, it is still
poetic!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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to the artist of Endelicio
i
the tall man in his sixties
when we enter your house
says that shattered glasses
are bad for feng shui
ii
your garden chair is a mosaic
of broken glasses matching with
your lampshade of broken bottles
and your floors of broken tiles
iii
it is cruel to hear that they
view you not as an artist but
a mad man
iv
you in your gray hair and thin
structure and old skin
looks decent enough for me
and struggling with all your
art works, paintings, sculptures
paper mache and stuffed animals
v
outside a gray cat is basking its
body under the morning sun
on a stone bench beside the
banana trees
vi
i take a lot of pictures of all your
stuff
and this is the first time that i
have met you
having heard of your name and your
cafe cum gallery
a long time ago
vii
back to the shattered glasses and broken
bottle and tiles
and sculptures of mother earth
and man and emaciated natives
sometimes i ponder that if i were in your shoes
will i do the same?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All Things Being Constant
all things being constant,
there will still be hope.
or even just you, since i
have changed and swerved
on another curve
without you.
you being constant
and i coming back, carrying with
me
a handful of 'i am sorry'
' i will be good this time'
'forgive me'
and i kneel before your feet
pleading.
with you being constant
as the star of this house,
this shattered home,
these broken window glasses
and dirtied carpets
and muddy floors because
my shoes brought them in,
with you being constant,
like mother,
i too, can be, myself again,
i, too, can say,
damn, i am lucky, to have
mother in you,
damn, i am lucky,
like daddy.
i am really sorry.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Comminication Braekdown
We never walk We never talk
We never find the time To be close again
There it goes again
Communication breakdown
Communication breakdown
Too much concern for money to burn
Too many things to do Now you don't need me
And I don't need you
Communication breakdown
Communication breakdown
One by one They fail Now the leaves our lover
Cling to the ground
Communication breakdown
Communication breakdown
Too much too soon Too much temptation
In a hurry It's a sad situation
Too much worry I can tell Well it's over now
Communication breakdown
Communication breakdown
There it goes
Communication breakdown
Communication breakdown
When it's right, it's all right
When it's wrong, it's all wrong
When it's gone, it's all gone
It's too late
Communication breakdown
Communication breakdown
I can tell Well it's over now
Communication breakdown
Communication breakdown
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Night Old Self
unlike before,
when i unlock a door
in a house where i have lived all alone
for years
i feel like crying
hearing the sound of the living room
in the anguish of the
silence that it has never chosen
there is always the imagined sound of rain and
it is eerie
there is a spiteful
space that is always trying to strangle you
a hollow hole inside
my guts
i must have gone beyond the demarcation line
or i must have jumped that fence
having grown longer
these pair of legs that have outgrown the
looseness of corduroy pants
now it is different
i feel the content of having to accept that when i was born
i never had a twin
now the silence of this room is comforting
telling me that the crowd in fact does not serve
but chokes you as well
with whatever whims it has
what to do with my life
or where to do things the way they should be properly done
i am fed up with all these dictates of the mob
i have proclaimed that i am a different reality
in fact more beautiful than the face of the average
the many, the crowding people
as i open this door, i hear the song of my own silence
sweeter than ever
i leave my dirty shoes
take off my stinking socks
i lie my body on the soft sofa
and take my sleep
i don't even need a television to make my eyes
weary and
thus have the much needed sleep.
good night old self. I shall dream anew.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Communication Breakdown
Roy orbison
We never walk we never talk
We never find the time to be close again
There it goes again
Communication breakdown
Communication breakdown
Too much concern for money to burn
Too many things to do now you dont need me
And I dont need you
Communication breakdown
Communication breakdown
One by one they fail now the leaves our lover
Cling to the ground
Communication breakdown
Communication breakdown
Too much too soon too much temptation
In a hurry its a sad situation
Too much worry I can tell well its over now
Communication breakdown
Communication breakdown
There it goes
Communication breakdown
Communication breakdown
When its right, its all right
When its wrong, its all wrong
When its gone, its all gone
Its too late
Communication breakdown
Communication breakdown
I can tell well its over now
Communication breakdown
Communication breakdown
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Breakdown
Breakdown, shakedown again
Breakdown, over you
Breakdown, way down again
Breakdown, over you, over you
Just when our love appeared to be
Growing strong
And just when you believed that
We both belonged
You catch me out a cheating and
Foolin round
You find that Im lyin
I feel like Im dyin
Here I come cryin again
Breakdown, shakedown again
Breakdown, over you
Breakdown, way down again
Breakdown, over you, over you
I put you through this whole
Affair before
I broke it up, you broke it up even more
Then I begged you to patch it all
Up again
Why did you listen to me
You should have let it all be
You shouldnt put all your trust me
Breakdown, shakedown again
Breakdown, over you
Breakdown, way down again
Breakdown, over you, over you
Breakdown, let down again
Breakdown, over you
Breakdown, straight down again
Breakdown, over you, over you
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For the Love of Swine
Breakfast without bacon,
Seems like no breakfast at all.
Without Italian sausage roasted or baked...
In spaghetti.
It would be like having a milkshake,
Without milk.
Or Easter without ham.
With leftover sandwiches to make.
And those porkchops are delicious.
Especially fried.
And if they are seasoned just right to eat...
Some can be cooked to bring tears to eyes.
Smoked shoulder, and pickled pigfeet.
Neckbones and hamhocks.
With hotsauce on pork rinds.
A meal with neither of these,
On many Southern tables...
Is worse than committing the most horrendous crime.
For the love of swine,
People the world over can not resist.
Some relationships have ended...
Over spareribs and chitterlings,
If they were not properly fixed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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More Hair!
You've already taken my lunch, my socks, my long-distance binocs,
Now what do you want?
More Hair!
My jeans, my spleens, my workout magazines,
They're gone, now you want?
More Hair!
I gave you my gum, cilium, chromium,
my green shoes, my feet shoes, my mangy old street shoes,
Come on, you want?
More Hair!
Give me my CDs, my TVs, my Wheaties and my Levi's.
Know what I'll give you?
More Hair!
poem by John W. McEwers
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Wilma's Welcome
He sat the table, fresh kid,
waiting for his dinner,
pushing back the war
now so far away.
His big brother smiled
glad to see him safe,
when she walked in,
carrying a steaming plate
of the best fried chicken
either had ever seen.
The aroma awoke in his memory
soft Ohio nights,
God's righteous thunder rumbling
gentle rains cooling the hot August sky,
when Mom carried in our dinner,
fried chicken and mashed potatoes,
safety and love.
And looking at his brother's new wife,
he smiled and at last said,
'welcome to the family! '
poem by Steven Federle
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Kofi
I am in love with a man called Kofi and,
I am a woman of substance;
I am in love with a man called Kofi and,
He is a man of substance;
I love roasted chicken and he loves fried chicken,
And his whole body is like a hair garment all over.
I am thirsty for his milk and he is hungry for my love,
But we will share this love in the land of camels and sweet-milk;
There we will live forever on this sweet valley of mine.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Broken
There is a room where everything is broken,
a room where gravity even slips gears.
Scrawled and aborted love poems
have been burned into the carpets
with bleach.
If it wasn't for the empty, cold drafts the air would stagnate
coagulate,
and fall to the ground in thick, oozing clumps.
Flies swarm the red wine that is splattered on nicotine stained walls.
Time doesn't fly here,
it limps.
All the mementos,
the keepsakes of previous occupants,
have been drenched in diesel fuel and torched by vandals.
(The last 'real' life that has bothered to visit) .
Cold, autumnal sunlight enters through shattered windows,
and falls,
fractured, sliced, and lifeless on Crystal Nacht floors.
A room frozen,
in the final throes,
of entropy.
poem by Brevet Wilson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Of Sparks And Hearts
of what can we claim
that we say deep from our
hearts?
love? overused, abused,
molested, that is what people always
say
sometimes without meaning
anymore
cliches, cliches,
nothing of that spark
for those that come from the heart
without even trying
hard to say it
its the hug that speaks
the kiss that seals
the hand that touches the
shoulder
the eyes that see not
what we are
not
what can we see from
the heart?
veins, blood,
muscles.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Her decision
when she discovered that
she had colon cancer
stage 2, she at first had
the usual denial,
'no this cannot be true
for i don't smoke
neither did i eat meat
i did not have
a stressful life' she says.
the discharges of blood
proves her otherwise
her loss of weight
and low red blood cell count
convince her
about this reality
' i accepted this
matter and i did not
want to do anything anymore' she resolves,
'anyway, i am already
68, and had my life
what is the use of
an extension' she continues
on her plate is the fried chicken
a slice of roasted pig,
for her desert a glass of ice cream
and leche flan
all that the doctor says
she must not eat
she eats them now
i guess, i know what she means.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What can I say of myself
What can I say of myself
That others has said of me
Even though they were always wrong
No, I do not grow a tail at night
No, monkeys have straight hair not I
They say that I abandon
My children for a jail cell in the company of men
They do not know that I do not hate my dark skin
It is the money of whites, their power
That denies me; keep me in the yoke of self hatred
They fear my power to survive
It is greater then their to enslave
Financially and sexually as is the American way
By my black American culture am I made brave
They think that I want their daughters and sons
To bring then over to the beautiful dark side
As they are entice by the art of being black
They want me to mount them to bring
Them closer to the animal that we all are
To praise me they say that I am to articulate to be black
And they want to know if this is my real hair
And they call my skull cap a doo rag
They tell me that they too love fried chicken
And watermelon and can get down with some corn bread and collard green
With smoked ham hocks or neck bones
They want to know why I am so angry
As a black man who should be prove to be born an American
And why I am acting white when I dress preppy
Why don’t I sound black over the phone
They want to know why I eat pig feet
They say that I should get over slavery
But not that the Jews should get over the Holocaust
They want to touch my hair
Their women folks are quick to commit crimes
And blame it on a black man
They think that the lighter my skin color
The less dangerous and friendlier I am.
They tell me that I got rhythm
poem by David E. Patton
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Breakdown
How could I stay
How could I breathe
There had to be more for me
Promises gone
Plastic and stone
I'm doing fine all alone
So you're having a breakdown
So you're losing the fight
So you're having a breakdown
And I'm driving and crying Unraveled and flying
I'm coming to your breakdown tonight
I cannot run
I cannot hide
It came with me locked inside
The bough will break
Cradle will fall It only takes one call
So you're having a breakdown
So you're losing the fight
So you're having a breakdown
And you need me tonight
I found my place in this downtown
Salt air and yellow street lights
So you're having a breakdown
And I'm driving and crying
Unraveled and flying
I'm coming to you're breakdown tonight
song performed by by Melissa Etheridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let Them Be
let the shoes come and accommodate your feet
and the gloves your hands
and your shirt and pants let them all come near you
and wear your body
let all of them come
let them be let them be
let them have you
the shoes will take you to the door of the house
the home you are longing
the stairs meet you
and the windows open like eyes looking out to another face
the floors and ceiling give you a space
where you can sit with the chair
that opens its arms
a glass serves you milk
or orange juice, tell it what you want
to quench your thirst
a saucer, a plate, a spoon and fork
they all come before your hands
some muffins and jelly
they all come before your mouth
they all come to feed your hunger
this is your home now.
Destiny is waiting.
You do not do a thing.
They all do it for you.
There is no worry.
Destiny does it for you.You see.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sharing Logic...
if you do not want the cat to climb
your table and eat your fried chicken legs
then put them all down flat on the floor.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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