Thinking
Your elbow rests on the table
Your chin tangent to your
Fist your ears steady on some
Hints your eyes focused beyond
This wall this common obstruction
Of emotional camouflage
Your face is the façade
Of this serious edifice
Your nose smells something
Pungent and offensive
Your mind opens
Your heart tries to understand
Some winged and flapping
Gains momentum and then
Flies away to heights
Your mouth is as usual
Closed and your teeth grinds
There is no food or grain
Just air in between
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
listening to the Heart Sutra in Mandarin
hands on the table
mouth closed
eyes focused on the
blank screen
ears wide open
the mind closes
the heart discloses
another form of joy
in Buddhist chant
my head sways
to the left and right
like a stalk of lotus
caressed by the wind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Grind Me In The Gears
Im holding my last breath
Its burning in my lungs
Clenching up my eyes
Bloody up my tongue
For the words that might escape
Are ringing in my ears
Grinds me to a pulp
Grind me in the gears
My frozen spirit aches
I slip another day
Start to lose my grip
Find another way
For the life that might escape
Has been echoing for years
Grinds me to a pulp
Grind me in the gears
Ive seen all the faces
They mirror me
And Ive felt the tearing tearing of the teeth
Ive given up my ghosts
Barely breathe your name
Offer up myself
Pray youll do the same
For the love that might escape
Well thats the biggest fear
Grinds me to a pulp
Grinds me in the gears
song performed by by Edwin McCain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eyes and Ears
Eyes and ears have blessings, too much for the heart,
And the passion that uncovered them was not the part.
Glancing with passion is thrilling like seeing,
An object I refer to the public-being.
As she nears, the eyes are calm in the face,
As the nose smells, the tranquillity has a place.
Eyes are seeing wonderfully well,
As too many visions work in a cell.
poem by Naveed Akram
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I Went To The Mirror
In a voice soaked with euphoria:
I went to the mirror this morning
I looked in the mirror instead
The first thing to come into focus
Was a face wrapped all around my head
Theres something sticking out of the middle
I guess its my nose (I suppose)
I just dont recognize those eyes
All these years Ive been watching from the other side
The voice is now one of brutal stupefication. the underlying question is - if
You went crazy, would you know it?
Uh oh, here I go thinking them crazy thoughts again.
Who is that there? you mean I been walking around
In that all these years? whats it all about?
Wheres it all at? I dont want to get heavy but
What am I doing here? uh
My lip has a dark spot upon it
(the voice of a mature adult whos comprehensive
Capacity has suddenly been reduced to that of a
Cherrystone clam)
My teeth look like plastic in chips
And there on my chin I discover
One lonely red and arrogant zit
I went about my business this morning
You got to get out of bed and make that bread
But try as I may to get away
I wont forget what I seen in the mirror today
Boogie on out to a brand new day.
Get off your back and dance!
I seen my eyes. I seen my nose. my lips. my teeth.
My, my gums. I seen my gums! I looked all the way
Down my throat! I looked at my ears. I looked real
Hard at my ears. I looked at my hair. I think Im going
Bald. I had hair all over the sink or something...
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Little Sunshine
a grain of rice
on a table cloth
beside
a cup of hot
coffee
imperceptible
but when a connection is found
soon
the spoon and fork
shall understand
some pieces
no matter what
do not fit
on a reasonable landscape
what is the grain of rice
doing on a breakfast table?
your mind is furious
i think it is cool
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The fruits on the table
I love the papayas
Spread on the table
Reddish orange papayas
Plump and Smooth to my
Hands
And some purple grapes
Sweet pulp
Luscious to my
Lips
Some rambutans
Hairy fruits in red
Tickling to my
Fingers
Pungent durian
Tasting like
Heaven to
My mind
They are all spread on
The table
And I would caress smooth
Reddish papayas with
My bare hands
Put a grape in my mouth
And my tongue
Does the savoring of
Juicy rambutans
My lips close in
To a juicy roundness
As I breathe on some
Red hairs
Of this magical luscious fruit
The durian is opened
And the taste of heaven
Comes to my mind
With eyes closed as
Though I own all the passions
Of this world
When we were young and
Crazy about ourselves
I laid her on the table
And spread herself there
She was all those kinds of
Fruits to me and I was the
Hands, the mouth, the lips,
The tongue
The stomach that swallowed her all
Every bit that was juicy
Every freshness every plumpness
She was all fruits to me
She was all nature giving in, all over
To the passions of this fruit lover.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Human Face
upon his face
the smile floats like
a gondola
on the River of
Venice
one can hear the
song of the
gondolier
the eyes of his face
are windows
opening because the
songs are
tempting
they are the eyes of
women
looking for love
the nose serves as
the only bridge
there
to connect the ears
and chin
in that atmosphere
of indifference
the princess is
the tongue
salivating
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face
Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.
Imagine if your precious nose
were sandwiched in between your toes,
that clearly would not be a treat,
for you'd be forced to smell your feet.
Your nose would be a source of dread
were it attached atop your head,
it soon would drive you to despair,
forever tickled by your hair.
Within your ear, your nose would be
an absolute catastrophe,
for when you were obliged to sneeze,
your brain would rattle from the breeze.
Your nose, instead, through thick and thin,
remains between your eyes and chin,
not pasted on some other place--
be glad your nose is on your face!
poem by Jack Prelutsky
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There Is Nothing To Write
WELL, FACE THE BLANK WALL
STARE TO THIS BLANK WALL
THERE IS NOTHING TO THIS BLANK WALL
IT IS BLANK
IT IS EMPTY
IT IS A HINDRANCE TO WHAT I WANT TO SEE
IT IS AN OBSTRUCTION
TO WHAT I WANT TO BECOME
THIS WALL
THIS WALL IS MY JAIL
MY PRISON
MY BLINDNESS
THIS WALL MUST BE TORN
THIS WALL MUST BE BOMBED
THIS BLOCK
THIS WEARINESS OF THE HEART
THIS TIREDNESS OF THE SOUL
THIS MALADY OF BEING NOTHING
THIS HAVING NOTHING AT ALL
THERE IS NOTHING TO WRITE
THERE IS NOTHING
THERE IS
now i will write about something
from above
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pole Dancer
Sweat drips as she swing around the pole
her heart racing
She smiles at the guys as she pulls herself around
her eyes shining
She looks into the croud as she dances on the stage
her mind steady
She watches the guys who look intersted as she strips
her lust showing through her eyes
She spins around the pole again as she grinds with her body
her fingers wrapped tight around the pole
She lets her hair fall over her face and body as she stops
her body ready
She stands in a pose as the guys flood to her
her chest pullsing
Her eyes watch them as her mouth pulls into a wanting grin
her mid longing for their bodies
Her eyes searc through them as she sees him
as she walks away with him into the rooms and the music continues
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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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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No One Thinks of That
When a momentum is set,
To dilute one's good intentions...
It should be made clear,
To those preparing to get into this gear...
They should make sure they do not,
Cut off their noses to spite their faces.
Or bite the hand that might be feeding them,
Under the table.
When someone's good intentions are gone...
So too go with them their much needed connections!
And of course,
No one thinks of that...
While stabbing someone else in the back!
Especially when egos of those in small towns,
Lack any hints of common sense!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tunnel Vision
I have been advised of having tunnel vision...
You know when you are near blind as a bat?
Worried and in fear-for my eyes my dear?
Nah, my nose works and i'm sure i smell a rat**! ;
Thank God for my nose and my ears...
Never mind my limited sight...
A highly developed instinct also carries me-
Through the blackest of darkest night! ;
It gives me much sought after information...
Of long ago sequesterd plans and schemes...**
I've been told that i am sixth sense old...
That my information is formed in my dreams;
So never mind my tunnel vision sweetheart-
My nose and my ears do just fine...
Coupled with the sixth sense instinct God gave to me...
For miles i can smell my enemies sign**;
May 14,2010
**Smoke From The Attic (as usual)
The Phantom IS Back.
poem by Theodora Onken
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Some Kind Of Monster
These are the eyes that can't see me
These are the hands that drop your trust
These are the boots that kick you around
This is the tongue that speaks on ths inside
These are the ears that ring with hate
This is the face that'll never change
This is the fist that grinds you down
This is the voice of silence no more
These are the legs in circles run
This is the beating you'll never know
These are the lips that taste no freedom
This is the feel that's not so safe
This is the face that you'll never change
This is the god that ain't so pure
This is the god that is not pure
This is the voice of silence no more
We the people
Are we the people?
Some kind of monster
This monster lives
This is the face that stones you cold
This is the moment that needs to breathe
These are the claws that scratch these wounds
This is the pain that never leaves
This is the tongue that whips you down
This is the burden of every man
These are the screams that pierce your skin
This is the voice of silence no more
This is the test of flesh and soul
This is the trap that smells so good
This is the flood that drains these eyes
These are the looks that chill to the bone
These are the fears that swing over head
These are the weights that hold you down
This is the end that will never end
This is the voice of silence no more
We the people
Are we the people?
Some kind of monster
This monster lives
This is the cloud that swallows trust
This is the black that uncolors us
This is the face that you hide from
This is the mask that comes undone
Ominous
I'm in us
song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sick
Sick 'I cannot go to school today,'
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
'I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more - that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut, my eyes are blue -
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke -
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb,
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my spine is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is -
what? What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is ... Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!'
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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A Portrait Of Tomorrow
get the pen of the present
and take the colors of the past
use the hand that you trust
and begin making
tomorrow's portrait
have the ears of twenty years ago
try listening
if the sound is happy
put them there
and for the nose
smell the sweat of your childhood
those that play so well on the grass
and took the plunge on the clean rivers of your life
if you have that nostalgic feeling
then put that nose there
and how about the mouth and the lips
i think, if i were you
i'll take the teen age years
remembering the first kiss
and the first communion
the sound of a tight embrace
and if you like those happenings
then have those years
as your mouth and lips
and even the teeth
and now for the eyes
those that know really how to see
clearly and probingly
ponderous eyes
where wisdom is embedded
i think if i were you
take it from the present
those that see the past
as a summary
and of course the future
as a plan
specific and determined
strong and willing
and with a stroke of your
skilled hand you put the final
touches of tomorrow's portrait
you see your face and you say
you are beautiful
you caress it and tell yourself
you are lovable
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A closed mouth catches neither flies nor food.
Grinding Slowly
I will never understand...
A mind closed off,
And afraid of challenges.
One that accepts,
And sees life the way it is!
Even though the way it is,
Shouldn't be that way at all.
If a point of view introduced...
Is not what the 'crowd' selects?
Mindsets become trapped.
And a growth becomes stalled.
I see an increase of regret on faces.
I see a reality that comes to them all!
I see a lifestyle that decreases immensely.
And I see an absence of acknowledging...
Their way of life and how it's lived,
Grinds slowly to a fall!
I wish I could remove deceptions,
From the eyes and minds of some.
They could influence those they knew...
Of a consciousness,
With a higher awareness that comes to everyone!
They would understand mankind can demand,
An ending to things by taking a stand!
But a conformity that has been fed on greed...
Only breeds on selfishness that is held in one's hand!
I see an increase of regret on faces.
I see a reality that comes to them all!
I see a lifestyle that decreases immensely.
And I see an absence of acknowledging...
Their way of life and how it's lived,
Grinds slowly to a fall!
I will never understand...
A mind closed off,
And afraid of challenges.
One that accepts,
And sees life the way it is!
I see an increase of regret on faces.
I see a reality that comes to them all!
I see a lifestyle that decreases immensely.
And I see an absence of acknowledging...
Their way of life and how it's lived,
Grinds slowly to a fall!
I wish I could remove deceptions,
From the eyes and minds of some.
They could influence those they knew...
Of a consciousness,
With a higher awareness that comes to everyone!
I see an increase of regret on faces.
I see a reality that comes to them all!
I see a lifestyle that decreases immensely.
And I see an absence of acknowledging...
Their way of life and how it's lived,
Grinds slowly to a fall!
Grinding slowly,
To...a...fall!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Snorkling At Crocodile Island
you jump into the sea
with a wish
to sea the world of the fish
blue and green
and some bubbles
and slimy and slim
and slippery
to hold
you open your eyes
to the world of seaweeds
and sea urchins
you find something different now
the world where you do not utter a word
to describe
if something is beautiful
you find something's shut
up
your ears and nose and mouth
you open your eyes
to the possibility that in the world so beautiful
as inside the sea
you need not have a nose
a mouth, two ears
because beauty need not be said
they can only be
seen
and contemplated upon.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Love Of Light....
upon the window of trees
i rest my weary eyes, the aches dissipate on the leaves
my forehead rests on the hands of the wind,
i lean upon the walls of this house
the comfort zone of the mind
the roof beats like a heart and opens its breast
to the soft touches of the clouds
happier in blue
and then the black birds come with the sweeter sounds
of the flapping of their wings
how happy is this state
of my soul
sitting upon the friendly bone of my body
the light of the sun
lands upon my hair
i am as always and will always be
its respecter and
friend.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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