What I Project
what i project in all those years
is what you get and you swallow
me hook, line and sinker
and you get so nosy with all
your questions leading you
to all your self-framed answers.
what i am inside me
you must know is what i am
just between my body and my soul
my left hand does not even
know what my right hand is holding.
the shadows in that cave and
the real body that you may touch
bathing in the river
you must have known by now
are two different kinds of
illusions. What i have in my
hand is the real one: it is
alive and it is jumping
and flying and i am chasing
it now, so please, excuse
me, i got to go, i still have
many things to do, so many
questions to make so many
answer to fabricate, so many
quests, i do not even have
to take my rest.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Questions?
i am tired of questions
all of them
too familiar and all
with ready
homemade answers
canned questions
and answers
in one book
scanned for years
and you all know them
canned laughter
canned faces
canned souls
canned and caned and chained
bones
they rattle and they shake
and roll
i have no answers.
i am throwing all these questions away.
i live everyday. i look at the trees
and the forests.
i simply live. Now.
i have no more questions.
neither will i demand
any answer from you.
go, go, find yourself.
i stay here wanting to find nothing at all.
i guess, after my 48 years
there is this truth
that i find: there is nothing
nothing to find
nothing to expect
nowhere to go
it is just this and this and this.
the one that i have in my hand
the one that i keep on holding
i enclose it and keep it warm
and alive
and you do not even care
this is it: me, myself, and I
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Gimmickries
sometimes i am trying to figure
out if you are only trying to impress
me with your questions
perhaps you want to project wit
and on the other hand i try to answer
each question
with definitive answers like lands
with exact boundaries
delineated from the river and the sky
here we are again
wanting to make a point
but missing everything
here we are again lost in the labyrinths
of our pretenses
my face is masked with bitter realities
and there you are
chained with the shackles of your
freedom.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Inside The Puppet Head
As your body floats down third street
With the burn-smell factory closing up
Yes its sad to say you will romanticize
All the things youve known before
It was not not not so great
It was not not not so great
And as you take a bath in that beaten path
Theres a pounding at the door
Well its a mighty zombie talking of some love and posterity
He says the good old days never say good-bye
If you keep this in your mind:
You need some lo-lo-loving arms
You need some lo-lo-loving arms
And as you fall from grace the only words you say are
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Ads up in the subway are the work of someone
Trying to please their boss
And though the guys a pig we all know what he wants
Is just to please somebody else
If the pu-pu-puppet head
Was only bu-bu-busted in
It would be a better thing for everyone involved
And we wouldnt have to cry
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Memo to myself: do the dumb things I gotta do
Touch the puppet head
Quit my job down at the carwash
Didnt have to write no-one a good-bye note
That said, the checks in the mail, and
Ill see you in church, and dont you ever change
If the pu-pu-puppet head
Was only bu-bu-busted in
Ill see you after school
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside the puppet head
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Put Your Hand Inside The Puppet Head
As your body floats down third street
With the burn-smell factory closing up
Yes its sad to say you will romanticize
All the things youve known before
It was not not not so great
It was not not not so great
And as you take a bath in that beaten path
Theres a pounding at the door
Well its a mighty zombie talking of some love and posterity
He says the good old days never say good-bye
If you keep this in your mind:
You need some lo-lo-loving arms
You need some lo-lo-loving arms
And as you fall from grace the only words you say are
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Ads up in the subway are the work of someone
Trying to please their boss
And though the guys a pig we all know what he wants
Is just to please somebody else
If the pu-pu-puppet head
Was only bu-bu-busted in
It would be a better thing for everyone involved
And we wouldnt have to cry
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Memo to myself: do the dumb things I gotta do
Touch the puppet head
Quit my job down at the carwash
Didnt have to write no-one a good-bye note
That said, the checks in the mail, and
Ill see you in church, and dont you ever change
If the pu-pu-puppet head
Was only bu-bu-busted in
Ill see you after school
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside the puppet head
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Now?
now the questions are asking you
what now? quo vadis?
where to? what for?
why?
yes, why above all.
the questions are asking you
and you must answer with the very same questions to the questions
you beg, and they beg too
the answer to the questions
but you have no answers really
you have learned the art of wisdom
its own ways
its own manners of not answering with answers
who knows? no one knows?
oh, ahh, i must start from where wisdow
was born
here i am and i know nothing....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Questions
It's everything we do while we're here
A fear or a thought, a feeling or a dream
Touch it and taste it, breathe it all in
Say what you feel, things aren't what they seem
Why live, why breathe,
Why breed, why die?
These questions all tied up inside
It's all or nothing or what you make it
A prize or a secret, Which path do you take
Decisions and gambles, a goal to be scored
Risks and lies We all make mistakes
Why live, why breathe,
Why breed, why die?
These questions all tied up inside
Thoughts without pictures
Looks without seeing
Words without reason
Touch without feeling
Life is your reward
Not to be ignored
Why ask the questions when there's no answer?
Why play the game when there's no way to win?
Why ask the questions when there's no answers?
Why seek the truth when the truth is within
song performed by by Xentrix
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Questions
It's everything we do while we're here
A fear or a thought, a feeling or a dream
Touch it and taste it, breathe it all in
Say what you feel, things aren't what they seem
Why live, why breathe,
Why breed, why die?
These questions all tied up inside
It's all or nothing or what you make it
A prize or a secret, Which path do you take
Decisions and gambles, a goal to be scored
Risks and lies We all make mistakes
Why live, why breathe,
Why breed, why die?
These questions all tied up inside
Thoughts without pictures
Looks without seeing
Words without reason
Touch without feeling
Life is your reward
Not to be ignored
Why ask the questions when there's no answer?
Why play the game when there's no way to win?
Why ask the questions when there's no answers?
Why seek the truth when the truth is within
song performed by by Xentrix
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I choose the questions
You think I am wise
Giving you the questions that
You cannot answer
On a wide domain of answers
A question or two shall be taken
And you will answer them for me
Haven’t you tried thinking
If we shift roles
Ok, so you try asking the questions now
I do not answer
I could have answered you
Because I can, but I won’t
I think, I have become real myself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Evasive
the answers are shy
they have not matured
they always are not
confronting the questions
which keep on roaming like
Nazi soldiers looking
for the kill of the innocent
ones
the answers are arrows
with blunt tips
the questions are the black holes
of our universe
who dares to answer all of them
not me
i see all the questions
and i am but a little boy stupid on the street
looking for mother
and afraid of what a father can do
to defend the senselessness of
my posture
the questions are alive
the answers need a redemption
i take the side step
write a poem and then sleep
who know?
the answer is nothing but a dream
yes, a dream
something ephemeral
yes, an illusion
something like a mirror
yes, a moment,
something that must pass like the shadow of the moon.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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evasive (EDITED FOR one letter only)
the answers are shy
they have not matured
they always are not
confronting the questions
which keep on roaming like
Nazi soldiers looking
for the kill of the innocent
ones
the answers are arrows
with blunt tips
the questions are the black holes
of our universe
who dares to answer all of them
not me
i see all the questions
and i am but a little boy stupid on the street
looking for mother
and afraid of what a father can do
to defend the senselessness of
my posture
the questions are alive
the answers need a redemption
i take the side step
write a poem and then sleep
who knows?
the answer is nothing but a dream
yes, a dream
something ephemeral
yes, an illusion
something like a mirror
yes, a moment,
something that must pass like the shadow of the moon.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Untitled 6
now the questions are asking you
what now? quo vadis?
where to? what for?
why?
yes, why above all.
the questions are asking you
and you must answer with the very same questions to the questions
you beg, and they beg too
the answer to the questions
but you have no answers really
you have learned the art of wisdom
its own ways
its own manners of not answering with answers
who knows? no one knows?
oh, ahh, i must start from where wisdom
was born
here i am and i know nothing....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Second-Hand Lovin
You gave me a locket but your picture
wasn't in it.
You gave me a diamond and it
sparkled for a minute.
For I knew when I saw them
that they were only second-hand gifts
that were never really mine.
You sent me a letter but the words
that were in it
Lifted me up but only
for a minute.
‘Cause those words when I saw them
Said they were only second-words
That were never really mine.
*** Your second-hand lovin' with a second-hand line
Makes lovin' you hard to find.
Your second-hand lovin' with a second-hand line
Can't ever make you mine.
But hook' line and sinker I fell for you.
But second-hand lovin's too hard for me with you.
REPEAT second verse and ***
Words and Music by
EDWINA REIZER
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Always Asking Questions
We all want peace we dont want misery
So many of us wont let us be these things
But we only are confused
We feel stronger as we grow older
But still we feel bemused
Always asking questions
Were always asking questions
And the temptation is to just step back
Well we give what we lack
We will always be asking questions
Why rich?
Why poor?
Always asking questions
Were always asking questions
Why this?
Why that?
Were always asking questions
Why this?
Why that?
Always asking
Dont stop asking
Dont stop asking questions
Always asking questions
In answer to this question is just shut up
You dont know
I dont know
Nobody knows
This is an answer to every question
This is a place to begin
Always asking questions
Always asking questions
Why this?
Why that?
Why this?
Why that?
Always asking questions
(why this why that? )
Always asking questions
(why this why that? )
Always asking questions
(why this why that? )
Words: william bryant
Music: howard jones
song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You want answers. Take doubts
You want answers.
There are no answers.
You want some questions.
There are no questions now.
You want something,
There is nothing.
You want this.
There is that.
This and that, they do not
Always come together
And wanting this
You only get that.
See? See.
You want to live in peace
No there is no peace
War has always been with us
You know that, not this.
Oh yes, you want certainties.
You just want to be sure
What is in my hand
Tell me, and I will prove
You wrong, always, I want
To prove you wrong
About certainties, there is
Nothing certain. They just come
When they like coming
And they tell you
You dream, we give
What is best, it may not be what
You are dreaming, or we punish you
By giving what you want
You prayed so earnestly
Oh! These lords these gods
This fate this destiny
They always wait for you
Always hazy, and taken as
X, y, and z
You, it is you that assigns the values
And you can be wrong and even
Still be puzzled.
There is nothing certain.
So?
Well, take the doubts
They are the only things certain
Because they are real.
We live with them everyday.
They are mothers and fathers
And yes, they are gods.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What Do I Know? / And Who Am I?
What do I know?
And who am I?
The real questions
I cannot answer
They are beyond me.
And I don't think
I have anything to give
Even in beginning to answer them.
Just another human being
Who has come this way
And soon will be gone
Without ever having answered
The real questions.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Flying Away?
i like to see the image of a lone bird flying away from me
two steady wings carrying a very light body of blue feathers
a kingfisher flying away against the morning sun
moving nowhere getting farther until it becomes a blue dot
dissolving in the distance that your eyes can no longer see
i sometimes like to think i am that bird flying away
from where i am
because this place is sad and cruel
i like to fly away
to leave everything behind me and then simply forget
and make new beginnings
as easy as that
sometimes however i ask myself:
where shall i go?
nowhere?
just nowhere?
where is nowhere?
just fly away and go
and leave and
then what?
i ask myself these real questions
calling for rational answers
begging
that i be reasonable enough with my life
and the life of others
who also depend
on me
it is not an easy stuff,
just flying away to nowhere and destruct
everything i build here:
a nest, an odor of familiarity,
a sense of home
(though sad and cruel)
a name for myself
a reputation
a family history
an ancestral domain
shall i go then and be foolish?
i am not a bird, i am a man
that is a very serious existence apart from those feathery wishes and dreams
with responsibilities, i have no wings just arms, i have no feathers
but this body
i am not just a bird, i have a soul
and so i decided to stay
with you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Why Do I
why do I think of him all day long
why cant I get him off my mind
why do I wait all day for a five minute call
why do I count the days since I have seen him
why when I close my eyes I see him
why do I dream of his incredible kiss
why do I still feel his fiery touch
why dose my heart stop every time he takes his shirt off
why do butterfly's invade my stomach every time he smiles at me
why dose his laughter shoot a lightening bolt into my soul
why dose his voice sound like magical music to my ears
how dose he make me feel like I'm the most beautiful women in the world
why do I feel free like wild mistletoe making a bridge over a rushing river to a meadow of roses when I'm with him
why do I take him back even after I said I wouldn’t
how dose he still my heart away
how did he still my heart away
why do I question if I'm worth him
why do I down my self if he doesn’t call
why do I doubt if he likes me or not
how dose he make me feel pretty when I'm with him
why do I feel content when I'm with him
why did I not feel guilty for kissing him
why do I like him
why do I trust him
why do I wont to do things with him so badly that it feels like someone is playing hot potato with fire balls in my stomach
why is it that every time he touches me I feel like where he touches me is on fire
why dose his kiss make me feel like I’m floating on the clouds and sliding on rainbows
why do I dream of him when I sleep
why do I wake up and feel him
why do I want to spend all my time with him
why do I want to give him all I can
why would I sacrifice my life for his happiness
why would I give almost anything to see him to touch his unbelievably sexy body to kiss his fiery more experienced lips and to be one with him
whatever the answers are to the questions I have
I’ll find them one day
everyone one day will find out all the answers
to all the questions
they have in there life
the answers I find will lead to more questions
and more answers
but one day I will have no more questions
so I will not have to ask
why do I...
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Touch My Body
Can you , can you ,
can you , can you , can you
Touch my body make me feel like I never felt
deliver it make me shiver up from head to toe
move my waist line side to side
come on push up on me im feeling hot tonight
can touch my body make me feel like I never felt
deliver it make me shiver up from head to toe
move my waist line side to side
come on push up on me im feeling hot tonight
What i gotta do to get a little closer to you (to you)
i been watching you i really want to get to know you (know you)
im kinda felling your vibe as i look in your eyes
and your watching my thighs moving left to right
so whatcha wanna do (wanna do)
you come to me and i'll come to you (ohh)
Can you touch my body make me feel like i never felt
deliver it make me shiver up from head to toe
move my waist line side to side
come on push up on me im feeling hot tonight
can touch my body make me feel like I never felt
deliver it make me shiver up from head to toe
move my waist line side to side
come on push up on me im feeling hot tonight
If I could be alone with you this is what I would do (I would do)
I would grab you by the hand and begin to show you ( show you ) (yeah)
how to make it real hot never want it to stop
take it up to the top make my body rock
so whatcha gonna do (gonna do)
you come to me and Ill come to you (oh , oh , oh)
Can you touch my body make me feel like I never felt
deliver it make me shiver up from head to toe
move my waist line side to side
come on push up on me im feeling hot tonight
can touch my body make me feel like i never felt
deliver it make me shiver up from head to toe......
move my waist line side to side
come on push up on me im feeling hot tonight
Now can you rocket up (rocket up)
dont stop just move your waist line from side to side
now as you push it up (push it up)
and do the body right (do the body right , do the body right)
now can you rocket up (rocket up)
dont stop just move your waist line from side to side
now as you push it up (push it up)
and do the body right (do the body right , do the body right)
Can you touch my body make me feel like I never felt
deliver it make me shiver up from head to toe
move my waist line side to side
come on push up on me im feeling hot tonight
can touch my body make me feel like I never felt
deliver it make me shiver up from head to toe
move my waist line side to side
come on push up on me im feeling hot tonight
Can you , can you , can you , can you
song performed by by Ashanti
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hand
only the human hand,
the caring hand,
the hand covered in blood
and filth, the hand swollen
bruised, and beaten...
the open hand,
not a fist anymore hand,
not afraid to let go hand,
never letting go hand...
feed the baby, plow the field hand,
stroke the face of
the old woman dying hand...
light the fires, sweep the floors hand...
the praying hand, the picking hand,
the paint the soul hand...
only the human hand
can touch with the heart of God!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Touch Of Your Hand
On the day that you were born
I touched your hand so chubby and warm.
I touched your hand when you were one
and helped you walk my beautiful son.
I held your hand when you were two.
We ran, your favorite thing to do.
I held your hand when you were three
as you climbed on my lap and smiled at me.
I touched your hand when you were four
as the ocean touched our toes at the shore.
I touched your hand when you were five
walking you to school but when we'd arrive
I felt the tug of your hand from mine
and I knew that we had crossed a line.
I looked at you and released your hand
and said'it's okay I understand.'
As I walked back home I cried some tears
thinking of all our hand holding years.
Holding your hand became sporadic now,
when you were feverish or I felt your brow.
I held your hand a few times as a teen
but always alone so it wouldn't be seen.
I held your hand after you said, 'I do.'
We danced together just me and you.
After some years went by my son
you held the hand of your little one.
And so the times of your life turn around
and now that my hand is old I've found
you take my hand and help me walk
and as you do we intimately talk.
And it takes me back to that bright early morn
when I held your hand so chubby and warm.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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