What We Need
a vent.
something windy like a fan.
an orifice
an exit, oh not yet,
let us say just an opening
where we can enter
and still be together
okay, you want an exit,
let us do it
open it, i will get out
first, then you go next,
i will not wait for you
i am rushing this
and you are rushing to
where?
i too, don't know.
cool.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
At The Bus Station
worms getting out
rushing
at a door both serving
as entrance and exit
to know not
where
private interests
going to and fro
like the mad hands of
the watch
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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for John on his first frustration
let me draw you a house
with an entrance gate
leading to an entrance
door and some windows
to let in air.
just that, there will be no
exit doors, no exit gate,
all the windows open,
not designed to close,
that precisely is success
and failure.
there is a sense of
entrance triumphant
ditto an exit for some
ordinary and even
inevitable failures of
our lives.
the windows are some
of our other options, we
let in air to breathe
for a while. we must.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Last Exit Brooklyn
When the sun crashes into your world
Look around and you try and find your girl
And youre daring, too sick of what you see
Out of town is the only place to be
When your life starts to run out of juice
Feel like dyin and you just want to get loose
Prayin moves dont make much sense to you
Seeing red before your feeling is blue
Last exit brooklyn....last exit brooklyn
Going back, getting out of this town
Stretch it lean and mean, it turns you around
Take your dreams and stretch them out on the street
Take your turn to get back on your feet
Feel the wheels singin over the ridge
Feel the song like oakland take you
All the time you knew you had the itch
All the girls were glad to see you
Last exit brooklyn....last exit brooklyn
Girl in ol v wont pray
Dont give you a hard time
All the girls from brooklyn say
Last exit brooklyn....last exit brooklyn
Do you remember the day you left the block
Your mama said you would live to regret it
Coming home, coming stoned, come in hope, coming ready
Are you holding steady
Last exit brooklyn....last exit brooklyn....last exit brooklyn
(mccafferty, agnew, charlton, sweet)
1984 fool circle music
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The old, please go.
The prince waits for his father’s exit.
The pauper waits for his father’s exit.
One is for gain and the other for relief.
Rich or poor, the exit of the old is welcome.
10.11.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I Hear My Own Poems Rushing In Me
I HEAR MY OWN POEM RUSHING IN ME
I hear my own poem rushing in me
Despite my sadness and my despair
It tells me I am still alive-
I hear it rushing in me now
As these lines wonder too,
What will be next?
And if I will end it right?
And whether or not it is a true poem?
A rushing in me now-
Like words written and forgotten
So many times
Not so long ago-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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To Soar
to soar among the heavens
wind rushing past
giving way to the blackness around
to soar among the heaves
wind rushing past
the uncertainty of tomorrow t
he wisdom of yesterday
to soar among the heavens
wind rushing past
through the galaxies
small spots of color appear
helping peace fill the void
to soar among the heavens
wind rushing past
a smallflutter in my chest begins
the colors all around brighten
to soar among the heavens
wind rushing past
the flutter becomes a beat
then a pulse
sound all around
music
to soar among the heavens
wind rushing past.
poem by Lauren Kiczula
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Some minds remain open long enough for the truth not only to enter but to pass on through by way of a ready exit without pausing anywhere along the route.
quote by Elizabeth Kenny
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Teh Mongo Experiment....
yes, we put the mongo seed
inside a carboard box and
there is no opening, not even
a peeping hole,
on the other same sized carboard
box with another similar mongo seed
an orifice is made,
the two sprouted but the one
with the opening finally finds
its exit and we meet the word
heliotropic as discussed by
the late mrs. villasica,
that was years ago,
we were then in grade six
at that time, and
martial law was declared
and there were those who
disappeared
those who finally became
mad, literally
no metaphor intended
then i learned such words
hamletting,
summary execution
government persecution
zoning
martial law babies,
i turn to the mongo seed
experiment without an orifice
deprived of light
though given water
and soil to thrive,
the cardboard box and
the dream of the borrowed light
of the moon
because there is no sun
because there is utter deprivation
we go for dreams as substitute
some died in that hunger strike
at least, dubbed as the child of the
borrowed light of the moon,
one still keeps writing and the other
one still keeps reading
call them the surviving
lunatics
not in the literal sense now
but sort of, in a lighter sense
metaphoric.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Exit point
Searching the exit point
I remained there as before
Seeing the house-full every-time
I remained cool seeing the dog
Inside the house and doing mischief
I could not find one and locate where
They have gone and for what purpose
With the coconut I had with me
Seeing them all in this sky I
Remained again aloof with
The alphabet of life that was not mine
Searching the exit point
I called O Mayabi where are you
And you are there inside holding me
As before and here under I remained cool.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Often They Do Exit From Them Alone
Whatever is whispered about them and said.
Those intolerant of an atmosphere,
Filled with pretentions.
And exit from them quickly.
Should not,
But often they do.
Exit from them alone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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After my exit…
After my exit, who will care it?
After my exit, who will help it?
Who will keep it? Who will mind it?
Leave it, I resolve and feel stress-less.
06.06.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Rushing Of The Rapids
The rushing of the rapids heard,
Soothes.
As does the walk along a path,
Shown to wind through Sun kissed trees.
The quietness heightens...
With soft and cool Summer breezes.
And...
The rushing of the rapids heard.
Birds of different colors flying.
With a landing on the rocks,
To catch the mist from fast pacing rapids,
Making sounds...
Or sending messages I could not interpret,
From birds and other creations of God...
Within this tropical splendor.
And I sit,
At the base of an old oak tree.
Feeling it...
Getting comfortable beneath me.
As if preparing for a welcomed and long visit.
The rushing of the rapids heard,
Soothes.
The rushing of the rapids,
Heard...
Soothes.
And I sit,
At the base of an old oak tree.
Feeling it...
Getting comfortable beneath me.
As if preparing for a welcomed and long visit.
The quietness heightens...
With soft and cool Summer breezes.
And...
That rushing of the rapids,
Heard.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Most of the people who get off at our exit get off by mistake. They thought it was Exit 57.
quote by Tom Perkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freudian Snippet
as i enter
the lady
psychiatrist
propped up
behind
power desk
is scratching
secret messages
with file pen.
when i exit
my file
is still
open
poem by Doug Bentley
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With No Escapes From It To Exit
There is no other way to address truth,
But to be prepared to be stripped naked...
Bare,
With the exposing of every blemish.
Since truth is not seeking to be impressed.
Truth is on a mission to uncover honesty.
And many are still unbelieving,
The depth of which truth sees without explanation...
To deceive what is already revealed.
When truth is in one's presence and is fully awakened,
With no escapes from it to exit...
Foolish is the time taken to charade in masquerade,
To evade it with a wasting away of one's time.
With no escapes from it to exit,
Truth...
Is very effective!
With no escaping undetected,
Truth...
Is very effective.
Once fed truth it manifests.
And truth will not be neglected...
To reject!
With no escapes from it to exit,
Truth...
Is very effective!
With no escaping undetected,
Truth...
Is very effective.
Once fed truth it manifests.
And truth will not be neglected...
To reject!
With no escapes from it to exit,
Truth...
Is very effective!
With no escapes from it to exit,
Truth...
Is very effective!
And truth will not be neglected...
To reject!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My duties
I can go anywhere, anytime, in any direction
Just like the shooting stars of the sky.
Why should I go?
Did I know before I came here?
So I should ponder and turn back
And never think to go.
When there is a natural entry and exit door
Why I should use for my exit the unnatural window!
Rather I shall find the answer
Who, when, how and why
Am I here?
If I have not come here of my own,
Then Who has sent me and why?
Are there any duties for me?
If any, I have to do them.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Emptiness
when you enter your room
and you hear the sound of your steps
on the carpet, as you close the door
and the sound of the snowy silence
is sealed,
you begin to think why,
when will this last? oh, this cannot
be forever, i know, you keep
on telling yourself
this is temporary
this is the need of my life
there is an exit somewhere
you wait, this is the hope
there is this distance between
this and that
it is not that really far away
from each other
the nearness soothes and heals
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beautiful World
At the centre of the world is laughter,
When does beauty enter and exit? After.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Thoughts After Sex
after sex
people sleep
that is the
usual exit that
people who want
to escape seem
to know and do
they sleep
the routine keeps
going like
house, office,
office, house
roads, doors
doors, road
after sex
the usual exit
is closed
you look at the
ceiling trying to
open another
door
but there isn't
any.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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