Well....
not to frustrate any of the horses
of Plato
i take both rides
first on the white one
and then the black
and both are happy
except perhaps myself
who got kicked on my ass
and now
i have to carry the chariot myself
and play the role of
Oedipus
in trying to unmask the reality of
the Sphinx.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
I also pay tribute to my flesh
I do not keep a snob spirit
A closed one not open to the realities
Of my duality: body and soul
Flesh and spirit, to keep myself whole
To keep the horses satisfied and make
This chariot travel smoothly towards
The path I have chosen towards the path
Of my true destination
The black horse and the white horse
They must too live in harmony
The black horse of my nights
The white horse of my days
And this chariot where I ride
I am still the driver in control
I drive where I want to go
I stop when I want to stop
These horses must see me as their master
And this chariot where I ride Is nothing
But just a useful thing.
Today, I pay tribute to my flesh
And my spirit must also understand
Love after all hinges on desires
And without this body, how can the spirit feel?
And where can guilt be, if love knows
That it is always greater and can always win.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Remember Lot's Wife
One is taken and the other is left down,
One is spoken to and the other is written to,
But remember Lot's wife and learn!
For if your child ask you of fish,
Will you give him a snake? !
Then think twice before you leap.
Life is full of ups and downs but,
Be very strong always to carry on;
And like the fig tree planted in the vineyard,
be very focus on your dreams.
Red horses and black horses,
White horses and dappled horses,
And with the bay horses to write this muse;
Life is guided by the four spirits of the heavens but,
Yu've sown much and brought in a little.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Ive Been Kicked Around
Well Ive been kicked around
What do you see
Am I alright?
Im alright
I once had a heart
I was ripped from it
Chewed up then spat out
Like a cherry pit
And if I seem a little hard
Its just that Ive been kicked around
I dont know how I got this far
The way that Ive been kicked around
Uh huh
Well Ive been kicked around
What do you see
Am I alright?
Am I alright?
Well Ive been kicked around
What do you see
Am I alright?
Am I alright?
I once had a soul
It was torn from me
I wont cry a tear
I will carry me
And if I seem a little hard
Its just that Ive been kicked around
I dont know how I got this far
The way that Ive been kicked around
Dont worry, Im all right
So if I seem a little hard
Its just that Ive been kicked around
I dont know how I got this far
The way that Ive been kicked around
The way that Ive been kicked around
The way that Ive been kicked around
The way that Ive been kicked around
The way that Ive been kicked around
The way that Ive been kicked around
The way that Ive been kicked around
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Two Riddles. -- 1710
Sphinx was a monster that would eat
Whatever stranger she could get,
Unless his ready wit disclosed
The subtile riddle she proposed.
OEdipus was resolved to go
And try what strength of parts would do;
Says Sphinx, on this depends your fate;
Tell me what animal is that
Which has four feet at morning bright,
Has two at noon, and three at night?
'Tis Man, said he, who, weak by nature,
At first creeps, like his fellow-creature,
Upon all four; as years accrue,
With sturdy steps he walks on two;
In age at length grows weak and sick,
For his third leg adopts the stick.
Now, in your turn, 'tis just, methinks,
You should resolve me, Madam Sphinx,
What greater stranger yet is he
Who has four legs, then two, then three;
Then loses one, then gets two more,
And runs away at last on four?
poem by Matthew Prior
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Reality Bites
reality has a picture
an old one, still black and white
for which i have
this love-hate relationship
of keeping it and
then throwing it away
again
reality has a way of showing me
that i cannot escape
and here i am as always
visiting it alone when no one is watching
we are friends finally
and we keep secrets
reality knows how to keep this secret
this Sphinx of my mind
that black bird with strong wings that
can fly away whenever it likes
to
and stay on top of the situation
saying:
' i can manage the weight
of silence'
reality this venomous snake that bites
me and can kill me
even
but through time i have taken much
dose by
dose
teeth to
teeth
and so
i gained this immunity
of death and pain
'we get attuned
to heat'
the desert has this
wisdom
somehow
reality is skin to my bones and flesh
or bones and blood
wrapped in sealed
epidermic containers
i have all the options for lying like the other woman
next door
and then suffer
and then be too unhappy
or just
be the happiest man
for the moment
two faces, day and night
when we get older we know what is this all about
and it is not even worth mentioning at all
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Muse Of Life
Black and white horses,
Black and white cows,
All that muses is about life;
Cos', the wind blows to where it is directed.
Brown and white horses,
Brown and white cows,
The muse of life teaches us many tricks;
But, i've got rain and sunshine to crown the day.
The muse of a moose,
The bloom of a flower,
The blues of mankind to take the pieces;
The muse of life teaches many.
'The dish washer is not in the Bible'! !
Shouted the lone-ranger in need of love;
But, all that muses is about life.
Of cows and horses,
Of men and women,
Of Black and White Race to fill the earth;
Yes, all that muses is about life.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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THE JUMPING HORSES OF THE CARNIVAL (edited, my eyes are failing me)
Do you still remember
the jumping horses of the carnival
when we were yet small?
Do you remember sometime
in July of 1968?
The horses were made of tin
in different colors,
practically all other colors
which were impossible for real horses
that we knew of
black, gray, white, brown, spotted
there were pink, yellow green
and rainbow horses
(i hope you remember
that you preferred the black ones)
Those horses did not jump on their own
You bet
A hand held their feet
and when your guess won,
you got
a cheap teddy bear
Those horses move with the music
of the old record player
with a harsh and confused voice
like a desert storm
and there was a Big Man
holding the microphone
Dictating who shall move next
till your number won the prize
of your persistence
i called you stupid &
That was the beginning of my criticism
Turned treatise of Reason
Now, i am going back there to obtain more data
Perhaps, i shall then be
Enlightened in black and white, perhaps,
i am not sure anymore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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She Rides Wild Horses
Its just her and the band and the clean up men
Shes counting up her tips
She did alright, she says goodnight
She drives home to a 3-room flat
Checks her machine and she feeds the cat
Shes almost asleep before she turns out the lights.
In her dreams she rides wild horses
And they carry her away on the wind
And they never make a sound
As they fly above the ground
Tonight she rides wild horses again.
Shes fallen in love a time or two
Somehow all of her dreams fell through
But shes strong, she carries on.
Her life aint always gonna be this way
She knows shes gonna shine someday
But for now, shell escape til the dawn.
In her dreams .....
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Words That I Have Not Written
for the words i have not written
i accept i have been a coward
the moment these words become transparent
in my mind, i always tell them gently
i have not the strength to write you
you have become subjects beyond
my power and please understand
the consequences of having to write
all of you: waiting to be printed and read
like the Sphinx and its riddle before
Oedipus, if i were to write all of you
i may be able to save a kingdom in distress
but please understand what happens to me next
for like Oedipus i may be compelled to pluck my eyes out
from my face
and i may roam the earth begging for forgiveness
throughout my life
because i have been blind by fate for all those years
writing you is honesty
and it is this honesty that may at the end kill me
and so
i am very sorry
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Robin
Robin and Robin!
Come to my cabin.
We can play in
With fuss and fun.
You can fly being gay
And catch insect prey.
As you like you play:
I won’t be in the way.
A beauty is your tail.
How ably you waggle!
When in air you sail
You are not fragile.
When you sing a song,
By your tail you clang.
You hold it upright,
Swing it down to spread
And gather it up
Like a drum beat,
Much in a rhythm
To your crooning rhyme.
Black in white is good.
White in black is good.
You’re black and white
And are superbly bright.
Chest and dorsal are black.
Ventral is velvet white.
Wings too bear white
You are white by black.
Koel like is Latha;
You are my Asha,
With look seductive
And voice captive.
You are nice to sing..
You’re nicer by wing.
Love, can you spring?
I love you, Robin.
With me, you are free.
Anytime you can flee.
I make you happy
When you are with me.
Don’t feel it a sin
To be with me in.
You will have fun,
Which is your win
Robin and Robin!
Come to my cabin.
I’ll play a tune.
You rest and preen.
28.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Victim
Between right and wrong
Black and white
War and peace
Perpetrators and victims
Passive aggressive
She is always the victim
He is always the victim
They say they are always right
Every relationship ends with being the victim
The abused one, the controlled one
Totally black and white
They hire psychologists to reinforce their game
Never have to take responsibility
They are always the clear good one
They never really stare into the mirror
Their own arrogance is never looked at
Their own violence is covered
Sexual manipulation
Black and white
Right and wrong
Gossip and slander
Poor little innocent victim
How easy we demonize one another
How easy we take the role of the good guy
How easy we make everything black and white
Make everything completely wrong and right
Pull people into our charade
Stereotype and profile
Sure some people really are extreme
Yes, some people belong in prison
But so many times we play the victim
We make the other person BAD
We do not forgive or let go
We bring our baggage into all our relationships
We profile
We play the wronged person to the hilt
We make the other person EVIL
We make ourselves GOOD
No shades of gray, no soul searching
No reality and we go looking for perfect people
No forgiveness or negotiation and compromise
We are the victim! We are completely innocent
I broke up again he abused me
What’s that now 6 in a row?
Yes! And I am so sweet and innocent
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Swing Low (feat. The United Colours Of Sound)
Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry he home
I looked over Jordan and what did I see
Coming for to carry he home
A band of angels coming after me
Coming for to carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home
If you get there before I do
Coming for to carry me home
Tell all my friends I'm coming too
Coming for to carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Make love with me
The reality of your dream
Is a mask turned backward
Black over white, black over white
Love over pain, love over pain.
Hey, take me to yourself.
The dream of my reality
Is the backward of that mask
Turned backward
White over black, white over black
Pain over love, pain over love.
Hey, come to myself.
Come to self in self
In that place where
Everything can be
Black into white when is taken from us
Or white into black when is given to us.
Love into pain when is given to us.
Or pain into love when is taken from us.
Look to the mask
Intangible
Me
And
You
Alw ays the same
Looking for myself
Through you
And looking for yourself
Through me.
In that place where
Everything can be
Sometimes
Black without white and white without black
Or pain without love and love without pain
In losing control.
MCN: C7986-UKG7K-58QFA
© copyright Mon Jan 24 22: 44: 44 UTC 2011 - All Rights Reserved
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Swing Low Sweet Chariot
Swing low, sweet chariot coming for to carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot coming for to carry me home
I looked over Jordan and what did I see coming for to carry me home
A band of angels is coming after me, coming for to carry me home.
If you come to heaven before I do, coming for to carry me home,
Tell all my friends I'll be coming there too coming for to carry me home.
Well I'm sometimes up and I'm sometimes down coming for to carry me home,
But I'd steal my soul if it ever were down coming for to carry me home
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So I'm White (First Love)
So I'm White,
not to proud,
So I'm White,
not to happy,
So I'm White,
I'm judge before known.
So your Black,
your proud,
So your Black,
your happy,
So your Black,
You judge me before meeting me.
Peolpe judge me and you for our skin.
I judge people for their heart.
You black, but you kind and caring, happy and sad.
I'm white, but I'm kind and caring, happy and sad.
You judge me.
I judge you.
We are the same,
In more than one way.
Be happy, Be sad,
Just be you.
poem by Andrea Szyhowski
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Him My Wild Horse...I, the Chosen to Fly on HIS RIDE!
Eye Drop his translated name
In Portuguese just 'Pingo'
My Dearest Horse for so many rides we joined
Him, my brother, his horse and I
“Pingo” supposedly
'The Little Daddy's Boy's Horse'
But my brother he would drop
And scared the little boy was,
forever no horses he would ride...
Of “Pingo” he was afraid.
None’s to be on fault
The horse’s translated name was “Drop”
But truly just meant to join for a Gallop
'The Little Daddy's Boy afraid...
My Dad mad...No fun for me
YES! Let’s Swap!
There it was, all resolved.
'Pingo' forever now My Wild Horse
My brother and I on a run
My Dad Happy laud and proud
'Go Little Son', and all happy we were
Pingo and I, my brother and his friendly new horse
Following the horse tracks
Wild and Free, there we were
For our remarkable back horse rides
So what about the “Drop”?
Pingo and I jointly on flight no time to play
Any other act, Let’s Run My Wild Horse!
poem by Florida Angel
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Evening
Oh! thou bright-beaming god, the plains are thirsting,
Thirsting for freshening dew, and man is pining;
Wearily move on thy horses--
Let, then, thy chariot descend!
Seest thou her who, from ocean's crystal billows,
Lovingly nods and smiles?--Thy heart must know her!
Joyously speed on thy horses,--
Tethys, the goddess, 'tis nods!
Swiftly from out his flaming chariot leaping,
Into her arms he springs,--the reins takes Cupid,--
Quietly stand the horses,
Drinking the cooling flood.
Now from the heavens with gentle step descending,
Balmy night appears, by sweet love followed;
Mortals, rest ye, and love ye,--
Phoebus, the loving one, rests!
poem by Friedrich Schiller
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The Wild Horses And The Snow
last night the horses were there again
black, brown, white, gray horses, spotted ones
on their furious breaths they ran wildly on the
white snow
white as the fleece of a lamb
the feathers of the parakeet
the hair of the albino hamster
they are making the sounds of freedom
exploring the distance of distances
roaming the earth
and the mountains and the plains
all in my head.
subconscious desires waiting for the Freudian
explanations.
as usual.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Modern Day Okies!
hard dust bowl depression days,
the banks came with tractors and guns
and papers to take away...
the old home places, the farms,
their way of life, their family way....
kicked them off like they were trash...
called them Okies...
white trash, despised by
all the 'good' people who still had....
drove them west, migrant camps or die...
faceless, homeless, expendable...
and now the tide has turned,
and more American people
kicked off, kicked out...
the bank comes 'round again....
taking no prisoners!
the weak and poorest will die....
the strong ones will fight!
call us what you want...
white, black, Hispanic, dont matter
what color or where from!
we're not your trash!
keep looking down from your towers,
one day they'll fall on you...
your banks will crash...
and they'll be no one there to help,
no one left to do your work!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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