En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Variations Of A Structure

graphic that is the word
there is a concrete structure
a bill of materials
a sketch of what must follow
there is a salable syllable
consistently uttered by
the demanding market

poem is actually
an architecture
of beams and roofing
sometimes you throw
away stars
they have become
the most abused
cliche

there must be
a variation
black bricks
silky white clouds
like shampoo conditioner
pumpkin rooms
rat horses
they already had it
books and houses
shoes and brains
bed and bread

surprise the mind
with what it thinks
do not really exist
and then we can
claim that we
are really alive.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You employ stone, wood and concrete, and with these materials you build houses and palaces. That is construction. Ingenuity is at work. But suddenly you touch my heart, you do me good, I am happy and I say: "This is beautiful." That is Architecture. Art enters in.

Le Corbusier in Vers une architecture (1923)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Impeccable...

each word is well chosen
it has a history and significance
each syllable is important
to build the empire
of his poem,

majestic now
people keep on reading
amazed and
awed
by the impeccable,

and yet for how long will this majesty
last?

only for once,
and then the reading is over
and no one talks about
the word, and the syllable is not even uttered

only for once and then
gone forever.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Billy Shampoo is better. I go on first and clean the hair. Conditioner is better. I leave the hair silky and smooth. Oh, really, fool Really.

quote by Billy Madison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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on the 26th of July

i will have a room
at the Waterfront Hotel
Room 302
i will be alone
and will not
tell you
that i am there

it will be a big surprise
for you
unless you read this poem
today

there is a promise
in my words
each syllable has
desire
this poem shall be
a poem of passion
for us

this poem shall
not lie
this poem shall wait
for you
this poem shall
give you
so much pleasure

i have taken
already the element
of pain
and disgust

this poem shall see you
and you shall
not be disappointed again

yes, davao on a big day for just the two of us

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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White Shoes

(jack tempchin)
I want em, I need em
And Im gonna go out and get em
White shoes
I know Ill feel better
When I slide down into the leather
White shoes
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
I woke up from a dream
When I saw em in a magazine
White shoes
I said lou you gotta start new
And the first thing you gotta do
Is get some white shoes
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
You know he left me with the lonesome blues
Been hangin round too long with nothin to do
Yeah, he really made me pay those dues
But Im goin out on the town tonight in
White shoes
Well, I wanted em, I needed em
Yeah, and I went out and got em
White shoes
That new boy when I see him
Im gonna walk right up and meet him in
White shoes
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
White shoes
Im goin out on the town tonight
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes

song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Fit In, We're Going

here comes the sun, is a cliche.
i put a spell on you, is another cliche.
i think i love you, most abused cliche.
you complete me, movie cliche,
strawberry fields,
scents of magnolia, fresh and soothing,
vanilla ice cream,
chocolate Popsicle,
mint puffs,
and cotton candy, and black forest.

coca-cola and ice cubes,
inside a glass
against the summer sun

your lips sucking the straw
your face covered with my shadow.

i am no longer conscious about their
taboos

got mine, and i like it
when i am finally free.

i store more cliches and
lick them
like Popsicle on a hot
summer day.

no hard feelings. Just fit in.
we're going.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Concrete Mind

Can I get a pass, from my wrongs?
Will you make me not forget?
Are you like a concrete mind,
That's permanently set?

Concrete mind won't wear out.
For when she has a crack.
She only fills in where it's split.
Your wrongs she'll always track.

I thought I would be honest
Lead a new way of life
To concrete mind this is a weapon
She'll use just like a knife

She'll just use it against you
You'll never live it down
Her life is like a circus
And you're the lonely clown

And when you try to fix
The things that have been broken
Concrete mind will take your wrongs
And use them like a token

Where did I go wrong you'll ask
In each and every way
So if you trip and stumble
Concrete mind will say:

“Go straight to jail,
Do not pass go
Be ashamed
You are so low
Just like scum,
You always rise
All of your truths
To me their lies
You past is now
You'll never change
Forgiveness a word
I find so strange
I will forgive
But not forget
My heart is hard
My mind is set
Show you mercy?
Show you grace?
Go find those things
Another place.
All you give.
I'll simply take.
I'll do this till,
Your will I break”

Concrete mind
Will you soften a bit?
I've tried so hard,
But I want to quit.

Like one step forward
And Ten steps back
You throw me a rope
Without any slack

Concrete mind
Can't you see
From your concrete prison
I can't break free

So concrete mind
I ask one last time
Will I ever pay the price
For my past crimes

Your concrete heart
Your concrete mind
Won't let me leave
My past behind

poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Consumption

ft. Aceyalone

[Prevail]
dukes in my horizon pass the time of day with me
dukes in my horizon pass the time of day with me
dukes in my horizon pass the time of day with me
the earth's surface height is global
so watch the stealth sport
I freed you to the odd of firearms
I was a specimen of near perfection in a college professor's pod
now I'm the only thing you should be fearing for the next millennium clearing
if only time will tell then I'll tell time
no secrets like he doesn't know
I throw beggar's bullets at baley's barn
there'll be bullets over Broadway for all of our faults

[Aceyalone]
people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones
people who live in glass houses don't throw stones
people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones
because they risk having boulders crash down on their lovely homes
thin wind rain sleet snow cones come showering through your roof
you need a fine toothed comb to find the truth
well my house ain't made of glass and my chariot ain't no pumpkin
I'm not a backyard bumpkin I'm from the concrete slab
where people taking anything and everything that they can grab
what's so bad is a whole lotta grabbin
a lotta jar jabbin
gremlins

song performed by by Swollen Members from Balance
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One, I have a wonderful publisher, Black Sparrow Press; as long as they exist, they will keep me in print. And they claim they sell very respectable numbers of my books, so I guess, and it's true, every place I go, my books are in libraries and on bookshelves.

quote by Diane Wakoski
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Verwoerd is Black

This poem is pregnant
with the black bloodshed of 1976.
This poem is constipated
with slavery of the poor.
This poem is the titanic of people’s hopes
sinking in the freezing ocean of democracy.
This poem is the enemy of the state,
‘cause, this poem bears testimony.
Don’t you know?
Verwoerd is black.

This poem is a hook that fishes
odd deeds buried behind black faces.
This poem is a mirror
that reflects odd unknown images
of stinking rich black men.
This poem is the voice of the angry dead.
This poem is a hammer to nail
in the brain of greedy politicians.
This poem is a database
of all black leaders.
This poem bears testimony.
Don’t you know?
Verwoerd is black.

This poem is for you
black man who spits
at the sight of a white man.
This poem is for you
white man who owns a savaged land
full of secret mass graves.
This poem is for you
black and white who hug and kiss
to please Madiba.
This poem is for you
the poor, who sing:
freedom has finally come.
This poem is for you, who know no truth,
‘cause, this poem bears testimony.
Don’t you know?
Verwoerd is black.

This poem is for you
my brother & sister who have lost taste
of your mother-tongue
in the multiracial Model C schools.
This poem is for you
black mama, who has configured her black being
‘cause black is barbaric.
This poem is the anger of hunger.
This poem is for the unemployed voters
who find solace in booze, sex & crime.
This poem bears testimony.
Don’t you know?
Verwoerd is black.

poem by Mpho Ramaano
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Black Market White Baby Dealer

My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me
My black market white baby dealer
Is rooting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Kidnaps clean, fresh white babies for me
Clean, fresh white babies for me
My smile is dime a dozen
My lips are cherry red
My eyes are blue like the sky is blue
I got good shoulders under my head
I look like your mother
I look like your great-aunt
So sit me down in the family photo
And everyone tells me that i, I look just like you
My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
He brings back
Oh my god, he brings back
He brings back clean, fresh, white expensive babies
He brings back
Oh charlie, he brings back
He brings back clean, fresh, white expensive babies
I come post-production
I dont need natal care
Im already fully assembled
Down to the very last part, its all there
So take me to your family
So take me to your home
Buddy, take me in as your next generation
And Ill take you out of the lost one and into mine
My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me

song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The truthfulness of materials of constructions, concrete, bricks and stone, shall be maintained in all buildings constructed or to be constructed. The seed of Chandigarh is well sown. It is for the citizens to see that the tree flourishes.

quote by Le Corbusier
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Riddle

I cut my life in to pieces
Of light and deeper curves
In numbers and shapes mixed within
The mystery of my own color

In this five by seven of me
A heart where mother lived
Seven years after I was born
It’s still torn and abandoned

The green valley of rice and corn
I’m 3rd and 7th of 8 grains
To see a sky above the fluffy clouds
To the land of black, yellow, and white

My “shoes-lady’s land” wasn’t my dream
To watch the Ford- Rockefeller’s ending time
Yet my fate lies onto the stripes of red and white
In the 31st of its 50 stars

Thereafter three squares tire to be abused
By economy’s worst obstructions failed
The red-lines that went too many circles
Hacked me with them in jagged edge

poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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It's Time For You Escape

in concrete houses
in concrete silence

nobody can not hear
your call

concrete houses are
sinking more than once

in the wine
when the clocks

are hitting
at the morning hour

concrete hearts
being getting cold

are slowly undergoing
the life

although it this way aches
escape ahead of yourself

nobody will catch up
with you

and even behind you
nobody will dropp tear

you will rescue yourself
escape - already time

poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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When I Rush Upon A Poem For Lack Of Time

it is when i rush upon a poem
like an acquaintance
i
feel this surprise

a
word comes like someone
that i do not know
but it strikes softly on
my face
and i ask: do i know you?

the syllable snubs me
and says

'of course not! '

then i go on my own way
thinking:

what was that?
like the way the seam of
my shirt
has been touched
by the famed finger
of the miraculous
just once
but it has lingered
throughout the night

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Hatred In You

Dappled horses,
Bay horses,
Red horses,
Black horses,
White horses;
However, you boasted against us all with your mouth!
Because of the hatred in you.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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I frequently compose out the entire metric structure of a piece in modified cyclic form, where each cyclic revolution undergoes some form of 'variation' much as if measure lengths were concrete musical 'material.'

quote by Brian Ferneyhough
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Don't Stop Writing Girl, Go Girl Go

You don't stop writing girl
You cannot stop, It is part of your nerves now.
Each vein looks for the proper word.
Each red blood corpuscle has become a syllable
For an imaginary poem in your mind.

Each beat of your heart recites a rhyme
A rhythm. A sonnet. A couplet.
Each curl in your cerebellum thinks of
An imagery. Another metaphor comes
And you grasp them with each breath.

You are alive girl. Go girl stop watching
The snow and make your imagination
Run wild like a snowstorm.

The sound of a snowfall. A snowflake
Layering on the side of your window pane
Speaks to you about this coldness
This beautiful sound of a very lonely song
Harking for Love.

Far away from your homeland
You weep for a while and then recover
Compose yourself and see your face in that mirror.
You are strong. You are as vast as the ten thousand miles
Away from us.

Go girl. Another poem knocks at the door of your heart.
Write it. Write about a chaff. The grain. The wheat germ.
Go girl. You are one of us, chosen not to speak
But to write.

I am waiting for your next poem. Gladly, I am.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On To Something More Concrete

i

i check on the word 'grass'
not in the wikipedia
i check that word outside
i step on the lawn where grass is
i sit upon it and lay my head upon its softness
the grass is cool and comforting
early this morning

ii

i like to check on something more concrete
than what the word signifies
the puffiness of the clouds
the blueness of the skies
the coldness of water
the salt of the sea
how the waves travel and arrive at the shore

i lay my body on the sand
open my eyes to the sky and trace the paths that clouds travel by
i swim to the coldness of the sea and taste with my tongue its salt
i touch the waves
i wait upon the shore and let my hours pass away

iii

this is the earth where i live
where i step upon
it is real, it is never fake
it is as concrete as each word signifies

iv

i speak now to You
Let me thank You for all these
I am alive.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Follow Thy Fair Sun

Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow;
Though thou be black as night,
And she made all of light,
Yet follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow.
Follow her, whose light thy light depriveth;
Though here thou liv'st disgrac'd,
And she in heaven is plac'd,
Yet follow her whose light the world reviveth.
Follow those pure beams, whose beauty burneth;
That so have scorched thee,
As thou still black must be,
Till her kind beams thy black to brightness turneth.
Follow her, while yet her glory shineth;
There comes a luckless night
That will dim all her light;
And this the black unhappy shade divineth.
Follow still, since so thy fates ordained;
The sun must have his shade,
Till both at once do fade,
The sun still proud, the shadow still disdained.

poem by Thomas Campion
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