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Today's Empty Thoughts....

today
he is unable to focus upon a certain idea
it is a waterfall.

he likes to grab a droplet of rain
his hands are filled with holes

he decides to lay his body on the grass
focus his eyes upon a star at night

there is no star, his eyes are closed
there is this kind of suspended feeling

like a frozen river, a fish got stuck on ice
a dragonfly trapped upon the web of a spider

there is this feeling of: what do i really think?
not what i want, but what is in my mind

there is this desert where everything that you see is sand
no camel, no moon, no oasis, no date palms, not even the shadow of a sand dune

the sounds of sighs come
you hear your self breathing for emptiness

you pause, rethinking, what is this?
you go inside it, trying to find if there is anybody there

it is empty. Yourself is not even there.
It is so real that you now doubt if an illusion exists at all.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Focus

focus
focus on god
focus on freedom
focus on forgiveness
focus on sweet speech
focus on treasures
focus on humility
focus on commitment
focus on mind
focus on success
focus on health
focus on healthy transformation
focus on goodness
focus on laughter
focus on fun
focus on angel
focus on sweetness
focus on wealth
focus

poem by Johnny Walks
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I Choose To Be Your Moon

i always console myself with the idea that i am not
at all alone

there are too many of me, of us, that we all become one boring
brew of liquefied images
coffee flowing on the carpet and wetting it and there is a fume
and the dust are captured on the stains

what i feel now is the feeling that i do not want anything at all
that i just write what comes to my mind
without choosing

and i am bombarded with thoughts and i am always on a defensive stance
a recipient always, passive and relaxed

things that come like rain to an empty earthen vessel
gives that feeling of fullness
which is too pacifying to the weary mind

then the vessel is filled with water and water pours out its liquid body
to the ground
to the grass to the canals racing to another path

we try to follow it
it has myriad options and we are at a loss which way shall it be
words are like that
they pour upon our void

others are blind and keep on talking about
hair and heads and hands
it is just myself that feel
emptying and filling and running and taking the journey again

what you see is the stillness of the body
a shadow on the wall
the night and rain sometimes come together
i choose to be your moon

and you are there looking at me
i am full, your gaze empties me
into a profusion of gentle dancing light
on your face

i never said a word
in the silence of my own understanding
you are so far away like a fallen star.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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0332 How were they to know?

Yes, how were they to know,
searching in the heat of forenoon dunes,
those high hills of sand
where once the forests grew,
now a rhythm of burnt sunned, cool shadowed, mock horizons,
- they, searching for the camel which had strayed -

and finding there, a man sitting still, cross-legged
in the sand upon a small strip
of faded coloured carpet,
palm of hand crossed in palm of hand,
and in the palm of his upraised right hand,
one grain of sand

and who, as they approached,
did not shift his gaze from that one grain;
and yet they sensed that he sensed them;
better let him be, he knows what he’s about,
or if he’s mad, at least he’s quietly purposeful…

how were they to know
that as he gazed, the universe he saw
in that one grain of sand then
grew inside of him? till it filled itself,
like a sand-clock, as the last grain
falls from the upper to
the lower, and all is still again
as measured time stops still
amid the sands of time?

how were they to know
as that small figure against the desert sand
his cloak still burning to the touch,
returned to the oasis, as the red-hot sun
sank below the dramatic shadow of the furthest dune,

and later, sitting by the green palms and papyrus reeds,
the camels head down, humped around the welcome pool,
one child, then many children,
then grown men, asked him their questions;
and the answers, as the night folded in
below more stars than anyone could count,
drew the circle of cross-legged silent listeners
- occasionally, urgent voiced with a lifetime’s pressing question -
as if some grain of sand became in their mind too
totality; the universe.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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In the Spirit of Rumi-39-The Desert

As the cool dawn brings the light
to the desert where the blue-white sky
meets the sand that time and man have brought,
and you wake the camel boy
to lead the camels from the waterside –

before you mount the lurching beast
and sway off into the desert on your path,
the camel-bells tinkling on the harness,

look into the camel’s eyes.
There you will see mingled,
pride in its being; patience in its duty.

The wise men say that God is found
where opposites meet and are resolved.
Proud in its being, patient in its duty –
no great wonder, then, that the camel
has been chosen of God to take you
across the desert of your destiny in faith and trust;

for in the world of metaphor, where man meets God
in the mind’s own language,
the camel is your body; dutiful proud servant
for the journey you must take; your company
for the length of time that journey takes.

So, traveller, when you reach the green and cool oasis
at the ending of the day’s sufficient journey -
first tie your camel by the waters of refreshment
before you kneel; for food; for prayer; then
resting in the bright-eyed company;
the eyes of those who scan the round horizon as they ride
and wonder always, what oasis lies beyond.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Girl On The Moon

Its night, again
Time for my mind to go wandering
Off on a journey, through space and time
In search of a face I can never find
So I close my eyes and look inside
I cant forget
The night that I saw her we never met
She felt so close to me as I reached for her hand
She drifted away like the desert sand
It was her and she was gone
I wish shed come back tonight
Like a star shining bright
I dont know where shes from
Shes like a girl on the moon
A girl on the moon
Shes like a girl on the moon
A girl on the moon
Yeah its night, once again
And that same old feeling is setting in
It all seems so familiar but I hope this time
That the girl on the moon will soon be mine
All mine, tonight
Am I asking too much
Should I leave my dream untouched
Should I even know where shes from
My, girl on the moon
Shes my girl on the moon
Girl on the moon
My girl on the moon
Girl on the moon
My girl on the moon
Girl on the moon
Girl on the moon
Girl on the moon
Fille sur la lune
Girl on the moon
Fille sur la lune

song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Recorded Message

Hello, I’m standing here looking up into the clear moonlit sky
a bright star stands out above the rest and I don’t know why.
Several times I’ve looked away and tried to focus elsewhere,
but each time my eyes return to this stunning heavenly glare.

Without warning all the stars have vanished except for this one,
I’ve rubbed my eyes in disbelief, but yes they have definitely gone.
Even the moon has disappeared from its place high in the sky,
but the brightness hasn’t altered and still I don’t know why.

This star seems to be zooming in and changing the night to day,
but it isn’t a normal daylight seen in the usual kind of way.
All the edges of this light are tinged with yellow and blue,
and to focus my eyes properly is very hard to do.

I’m so overwhelmed I’ve fallen backwards onto the ground
I feel foolish and embarrassed, and look quickly all around.
But there’s no one to be seen; where has everyone gone
there’s no one here to share with me what is going on.

This is beyond understanding, only a few moments a go
people were all around me busily walking to and fro.
I put my hands on to the ground to get up, but they’re not there
everything is disappearing into the yellow and blue tinged glare.

Hello, I’m standing here looking up into the clear moonlit sky
a bright star stands out above the rest and I don’t know why.
Several times I’ve looked away and tried to focus elsewhere,
but each time my eyes return to this stunning heavenly glare.

poem by Orlando Belo
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Don't Only Focus On The Money

When you go for the money,
You'll be selling your soul.
And when one goes for just the money,
The heart turns cold.
So don't focus on the money,
Don't.
Don't only focus on the money,
Don't.

Bling is nice but there's more to life.
Don't focus on the money,
Don't.
Open your mind with bright wide eyes,
To take a ride that will excite you.
With a view to greater heights.
So...
Don't focus on the money,
Don't.
No don't you focus on the money,
Don't.

When you go for the money,
You'll be selling your soul.
Don't focus on the money,
Don't.

Don't let your heart grow old and cold.
Don't focus on the money,
Don't.
So...
Don't you focus on the money,
Don't.
No don't you focus on the money,
Don't.
So...
Don't you focus on the money,
Don't.
No don't you focus on the money,
Don't.

Don't only focus on the money,
Don't.
No don't you focus on the money,
Don't.
So you just don't focus on the money,
Don't.
So you just don't focus on the money,
Don't.
No don't you focus on the money,
Don't.
Don't only focus on the money,
Don't.

'I feel funny when I don't have any money.'

Don't focus on the money,
Don't.
Don't only focus on the money,
Don't.
Don't you only focus on the money,
Don't.

Don't keep your focus on the fact that you always stay broke.
Don't focus on the money,
Don't.
Don't only focus on the money,
Don't.
Don't stay focused on the money,
Don't!
Don't keep your focus on the fact that you always stay broke.
Don't focus on the money,
Don't.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Tears in Desert

Once upon a time in a desert,
There was a camel and an oasis,
Large terrain, scorpions, rattlesnakes, cruel sun and cactus,
Camel galloped its way through the painful elements,
May be this was less,
Qabilas and Pathans used it,
Bruised it,
Work done; Bye bye,
Beautiful motives to use it,
Tears filled its eyes but sun evaporated them all,
No one cared so on its knees,
Still working its way towards oasis,
But not getting it right,

Do you know who camel was? , or is?
Think twice, take your time,
Hope this time would enough for its journey to oasis...

poem by Vikrant Jog
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The Unknown Star

I was born of an unknown star, of a mother who did not know herself-
From the very beginning I was a canary that could not sing and who
Would fall to the ground every time I lifted my wings to fly-
Trapped inside a cage of my own delusions,
I was alone looking upward towards that clouded sky, searching for that unknown star,
Where by chance I could find a place where I would belong-

My mother wept a wide stream of tears
Not to be consoled from the deep pain that tore at her heart-
The day I lost myself to another world, she abandoned me as agony wrenched her soul-
A phantasmal canary lying still at the bottom of my cage-
Hiding behind a rainbow looking for rays of hope,
Trying to deafen the voices only I could hear,

Searching for that unknown star,
I would dance in the rain beneath the faint light of the moon at night
Seeking for myself, that person I could not find, however
All I could find was a shadow upon the wall-

A shadow upon the wall I hardly recognized as myself,
A reflection within a pond which was that stream of my mother’s tears-
Dancing in the rain trying to become somebody,
Somebody famous or a perhaps an angel or a saint,
Trapped inside a cage of my own apparition where dense cloud cover barred me from
That unknown star where I might feel at home-

Looking about me at hillsides I might have tried to climb-all I could see was my shadow.
A shadow upon a hillside or inside, a shadow upon the wall,
A vague reflection within a pool of tears- Seemingly eyes of a ghost staring into mine,
Reading the demonic thoughts that raced inside of my mind-
Born of an unknown star, I had never found a home and
Born of an unknown star, I had never found myself-
Searching inside and outside all I could ever see was
A dark shadow of a lost person with no destiny or direction-

That canary that could not sing or fly, or perhaps a being who
Tried to come to life dancing in the rain beneath the faint moonlight- I became
A shadow dancing beneath the light of that unknown star I could not reach-
Hoping someday I would save the souls of those who despair and expectantly
Someday I would become that canary, but lifting my wings to fly and bursting into song,
Joyfully watching the sunrise as the moon would vanish
Behind disappearing dark clouds of despair.

poem by Claudia Krizay
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Feeling Of A Flashback

it's that feeling you can't explain,
that sensation you hate,
like bugs crawling on your body,
and you can't get them off,
you try to tell yourself,
that the past can't hurt you,
but it feels like you are lying,
you are trapped,
there nowhere to go,
your palms gets sweaty,
it gets hard to breath,
your body start to shake,
and slowly your mind become fuzzy,
you not sure of what's real,
nothing makes sense,
all you can do is,
sit still and try to stay calm,
it feels like you losing sense of reality,
there nothing you can really do,
the smells trigger you,
to the past where you want to excape,
you remind yourself,
that what you experiencing,
is not real,
it just a flashback,
but your mind still don't understand,
you frozen in fear,
trapped in time,
all you want,
is for it all to end,
but your body remains in the past,
as your mind tries to pull through,
and just as it comes on,
it can easy disappear,
or comes back at a later time,
that is the feeling of a flashback.

poem by Mona Martinez
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Granular Nights

a hit and run kind of
nightmare leaves
an inexplicable emptiness
in the night's tummy
night, an endless stretch
of desert sands and
the sand granules
wait at the corners
to blur my vision
the eyes are already
dehydrated, you see
i spend the night
gathering each granule
in my palm...

they simply escape
through my fingers!

my eyes and palms
remain vacant through
the granular night...

26jul2010
03.25hrs

poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Would Today Be Happier?

what if
i have let you touched me
if i have closed my eyes
and simply
worked on the feeling

what if
i simply let time
caress my
emptiness and
had it filled by
your
love

what if i just let the feeling
flow like a river
and never thought of the
the obstructions of
the conformity

what if i went with you
towards the deepest ocean

could i have made perhaps
a difference?

if i did not refuse it
would today be happier?

it took me years
to know that you have this space
inside my heart
reserved for you

my heart was then made of
stone.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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That one star

Remember that summer, i used to lie down on the grass.
In the countryside, i used to watch the stars every night.
Were always lots of stars in the dark blue sky,
Were always rich lightened in the deep sky.

And there was only one star that i liked.
Was in different places everyday night,
But i would find it every time.

And there was one special star that i wondered.
Was the lightest one in my eyes,
But no one else could find it.

That one star stayed in my memories,
That one star is still in my mind.
Too far to catch it,
Too close to run away from it.

Every night it would appear in the sky.
Every day it would disappear in the light.
Someday i couldn't wait for the night.
Then i used to pray for the night to come quickly.

Still i see that one star,
Even on the another side of the earth.
Still i see that one star,
Even in the middle of my dream.

That one star never left me.
That one star never came close.
Just like in the beginning,
Same in the end.

That one star.
That one star.

poem by Sukhee Bukhbat
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The Last Flight

there is always a reason why a man cannot
cease writing
there is that denial of what was there a long time ago
it sits there like a statue
beside the door of the house
where the window is always closed

there is always a reason why the words keep flowing
like a river
why the river is always filled with running water
despite the drought

you see the bones of cows
the dust of the sands in the desert
it was once an oasis
where date palms abound where women bathe
with their men
where they make love
under the crescent moon

there is always a reason that you know
but you do not tell
but which i will always deny
as truth

it is this denial that keeps my hands going
like soldiers ready for a kill in that theater of war
it is this roaring lion that does not bite
that keeps me
in fear that keeps me speaking inside myself
there is no one here
there is no wall anymore

the winds are waiting with all the wings of the dead birds
it is ready
i am undressing
this is the flight.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Hourglass Waltz

I long to waltz with you once more
On wings of song and light
Our eyes sang a lullaby of love
And in our hearts everlasting
Was our waltz to moon and star above
We bowed to our last dance
Your hand on the hourglass
And to sand and star we pass in Love's immortal grace
As once in laughter, love and life
We embraced
Across endless sand, star and sea I long for you tonight
To waltz love's melody
On moon and star, once more

poem by Lorraine Margueritte Gasrel Black
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Emptiness Is Both An Illusion And An Irony

emptiness is always an illusion
which carries with it an irony.

when i look at it, as its content shows,
it has nothing

bare hands, opening fingers,
an empty transparent ball, it can

tell your future, it can dig your
past,

thinking that it is spacious, i went
inside it, pierce myself though it

only to find that that are so many
crowding elements in there and they

are choking me and you who is looking
outside it, thinks that nothing is happening

but then the struggle is horrible, quick
and even deadly, so many hang themselves in

empty air, and lose their lives, because
you cannot see the body of breathing,

when you learn to live with it however,
you become full, emptiness is its irony,

its antithesis, for how can you ever be full
if you have never known how to empty yourself?

the face of emptiness is a mist, and you touch
it, you will hold a forest, so many black birds,

myriad exotic orchids, so many blending sounds of
trees screaming, of creeks flowing of waterfalls

cascading that you can relate to the locks of
your hair and the hairs of your armpits,

inside it is too personal to be told, outside it
are so many denials with the faces of the people

that you have loved before, and then you decide
to stay at a distance, you are like a tree

dark as a shadow, counting the hours
when the sun finally fades away.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If You Could See

If you could see into the nature of a single thought,
what it really is, though you think you know already,
if you could for one moment as old as the world
stop casting all these handshadows on the moon
as if they were the birds and bedrock of your intelligence,
as if the waves hauled the sea around in chains,
as if the leaves were a language without roots,
you would stop reading yourself like a prophecy in your own bones,
and be brought to your knees like a bull
penetrated by the seven swords of insight
and realize the unwitnessed clarity of the emptiness
that suggested you to you out of its dark abundance
is also the bright vacancy of this world that keeps you company.
All these intimate secrets of yourself
you keep posting to the sky like stars
or the single shoes and milkcartons of the missing
when you go looking for yourself like knowledge
in the eyeless spirit's lost and found;
why don't you, just for once and ever,
treat yourself to a season of your own, and shed them;
open your fist like a tree and let them go into the big O of omega,
hold yourself up like a candle to a black hole
and see what's deep inside
when the world's turned inside out
like a gallery at night without pictures?
If you listen, if you learn to listen deeply
with your eyes and your blood
with the intensity and focus of a hunting cat,
you can hear the crazy keys to freedom
jingling everywhere like flowers jailed by the rain
or the sun held for ransom in the siloes of the brain
the moon ploughs and seeds with thoughts of shining.
Once you stop looking for continuity in the emptiness
you'll come to realize that emptiness
is the fountain-mouth of its own theme
and it's the dream not the dreamer that's in play
when a fish suddenly jumps like a thought
and there are ripples on the moon.
Who comes like an explorer without a flag
before an undiscovered sea of light
and stands before it like a spoon?
Raise the well of your darkest night up to your lips
and drink it drier than the eyes
of the lover who gave up crying over you
once she opened up like the mouth of a river
and entrusted herself like an aimless thought to the sea.
Hold yourself up like the Hubble
to the vastness of the darkness and the shining
to the largesse of the night in its open-handed radiance,
to the imageless wisdom of the mother you don't know
who abides in your seeing like a compassionate shadow
and the intangible mystery of the mother of forms that you do,
and drink yourself down to the last star
to ever lay eyes upon you.

poem by Patrick White
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Quiet Focus Of The Mind

The Quiet focus of the mind
Is From whence imaginations rise

Imagination of starlit creation
Stimulation to open up one’s eyes

The quiet focus of the mind
To garner truth, cast out the lies

If Intimidation begets frustration
Then Frustration leads to what’s and why’s

Well… the quiet focus of the mind
Will turn what’s and why’s to quiet sighs

Plain and simple contemplation
Levels out, life’s lows and highs

And the quiet focus of the mind
Will lift the spirit to the skies

poem by David Whalen
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Self Portrait

I can see this world in a different way- from this world I hid for many years.
Riding a ship towards some other galaxy,
Though only inside of my mind-
The rain would pour down upon the real world, and
In the mid winter the snow would fall, but
Lost in some other place in time, I only saw the sun.

I was a rare bird whose wings would carry me
High above the treetops, the mountains and
Even above the highest clouds,
Traveling far away from everybody and everything that was real.
Rain, sleet and hail would fall, though all I could see was a rainbow,
Glistening within the sky, high above the mountains-
I placed no trust in the people who walked upon the ground below,
Although it hardly mattered- I could always converse with those people
Who lived within the kingdom inside of my mind.

I would board a ship, its full sails to the wind,
Carrying me towards the world of my dreams-
Today I see the world in a different way-Now I see reality,
I see reality- hunger, war and people who threaten, and
All I can do is place my hands over my eyes, hoping to shut this cruel world out.

The ship I rode to some other place has been lost somewhere in the sky and
A rare bird, whose wings are now broken, I now see the world under a different light.
Somebody took me and locked me away last night and I have become
A prisoner inside of my own mind-upon that ship with fallen sails
I feel as if I am on a pathway headed towards nowhere-

I place my hands over my eyes. Attempting to hide from all that is real,
Unable to find peace of mind, unable to find my rainbow.
I find myself alone inside of an empty room, with no windows and a door that is locked-
I converse with the voices that speak to me inside of my mind-as
These, nobody can take them away from me and
They are all that is left of my dreams…

poem by Claudia Krizay
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Caravan

Moses went into the desert
Moses came back with the law
Jesus went into the desert
God only knows what he saw
Hitch up your ass and your camel
Fill up your skin at the well
Roll up your tent, whisper your prayers
Are you ready to ride through hell
Caravan moving through the night
Sleeping in the light of day
Caravan spinning through the void
On our way to anywhere
Caravan time is just a joke change is all we
Understand
Caravan life is a mirage,
Only a mirage dancing on the desert sand
How I recall all the mountains
How I remember the farm
Oh how I miss the big city
With a pretty girl on my arm
Sell my best friend for some water
Cut off my leg for some shade
Sunburn these thoughts from my memory
If I live I will be remade
The sand is like a razor
Slashing at my face
Everyones in panic but you cant see any place
Its a sand storm, taken by surprise
Hide beneath your wrappings and cover up your eyes
Well I lost my kit and camel
Maybe I will die
Feel so lost and helpless and I think Im gonna cry
Its a sand storm, nothing you can do
No one knows if it will last
No one knows if you will make it through
Its been so long without water
Vultures are filling the air
Where is that bloody oasis
Must be around here somewhere
Time for some strong meditation
Time for the ultimate change
Time to make peace with your maker
Everything has been prearranged

song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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