En.Citatepedia^®.ro

When I Wake This Morning

last night i had
a single pill of 'x'
you know what
it is
do not make any
pretensions
it did not obstruct
a word
it slipped right though
smooth and easy
and then
the usual things happen
i am into this garden
they call Eden
and there is this Eve
and the apple
and of course the snake
i still doubt whether
i was God or
i was simply
the sinful Adam

when i wake up this
morning
my body was as heavy
as the Titanic
which as you well know
sank.
my mouth is sewed
with invisible thread
and i can feel
the pain in my lips
my teeth are imprisoned
soldiers
i want to eat some of
my words for
breakfast
but i cannot.

you see? this happens
sometimes
and so what we can do
is simply sit on one
of the chairs drenched
by last night's rain
at the porch
and just be silent.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Snake & Two People

There is a snake with the evil
In the garden of eden
There is a tree with the apple
And the apple was eaten
Now the trouble has started
In the garden of eden
But there is only two people
And its evil believing
Where did adam go ?
And how was eve to know ?
This is how it all started
In the garden of eden
Now what does it matter,
That the apple was eaten ?
What does it matter,
That the people were leaving ?
Let me tell you the truth now
About the trouble and (? )
(? )
(? ) deceiving
Where did adam go ?
And how was eve to know ?
This is how it all started
In the garden of eden
Wheres that snake ?
(repeat)
I fell down on my knees
And I searched through the trees
Oh, I need some assistance
Can you hear from that distance
So I set up my (? )
Can I dance with your daughter ?
He said: (? ) you want, son, but I dont think you (? ) her
Where did adam go ?
And how was eve to know ?
This is how it all started
In the garden of eden
Where did adam go ?
And how was eve to know ?
There is a snake with the evil
In the garden of eden
Where did adam go ?
And how was eve to know ?
This is how it all started
In the garden of eden

song performed by by Heaven 17
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Snake And Two People

There is a snake with the evil
In the garden of eden
There is a tree with the apple
And the apple was eaten
Now the trouble has started
In the garden of eden
But there is only two people
And its evil believing
Where did adam go ?
And how was eve to know ?
This is how it all started
In the garden of eden
Now what does it matter,
That the apple was eaten ?
What does it matter,
That the people were leaving ?
Let me tell you the truth now
About the trouble and (? )
(? )
(? ) deceiving
Where did adam go ?
And how was eve to know ?
This is how it all started
In the garden of eden
Wheres that snake ?
(repeat)
I fell down on my knees
And I searched through the trees
Oh, I need some assistance
Can you hear from that distance
So I set up my (? )
Can I dance with your daughter ?
He said: (? ) you want, son, but I dont think you (? ) her
Where did adam go ?
And how was eve to know ?
This is how it all started
In the garden of eden
Where did adam go ?
And how was eve to know ?
There is a snake with the evil
In the garden of eden
Where did adam go ?
And how was eve to know ?
This is how it all started
In the garden of eden

song performed by by Heaven 17
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everything Were Symbols

in the garden of Eden
the apple, the snake,
Adam and Eve
and God

and why do we ask
if the apple was actually
an apricot, or that the snake
was not a cobra but a boa,
or that
Adam and Eve were actually
humans

or that God exists
or that indeed there was
really this garden of Eden?

they are all symbols
all figuratively speaking
metaphors of this
divinity and mortality
entwined

they are matters of
the heart
and why not let them
just be as they are

in our hearts, in our hearts
alone

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Waking Up Too Early One Morning

when i wake up today
too early this morning
when the cocks still crow
and the lizards still make the usual sound
as though saying
this world is okay yet my heart still
beats this ticking clock of
pain longing for love this thing that until now
i do not really understand
we had sex last night and we slept
and had our own sweet dreams
in fantasy land

there is still this emptiness that carries me back to you
and i ask: Who are you? Are you God?
Is it you?

There is this loneliness despite
the sunshine and the little rain of hope
that trickles like a caress of thin air
so cool in the garden out there

There is this doubt about the source of the voices
from within
this conscience which has a mouth and knows
how to speak the language
of truth

Have i forgotten you? Have you forgotten me?
Such questions
shall be my breakfast for this morning.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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We Were Their Makers...

and then i told them the
truth of this and that
and they will not believe
that we
who have taught them
what life is
and how it should be spent
that they have to be somewhere else
beyond the limits
of themselves

shall simply remain
on the chairs beside the
table outdoor
sipping the usual
hot green tea
amidst the cold mist
of morning
not being ever tired
of watching the
last stars to
disappear having
shone so well last
night
when we were so silent
and simply
being sensitive
and carefully
watchful

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Adam and Eve Apple Fantasy

I am bored Adam
I am bored Eve
Let's walk together in the garden
It is afternoon Adam
It is afternoon Eve
Our tummies are empty
Let's have something to eat
It is beautiful garden of Eden
How wonderful the fruit trees!
Adam look honey
This beautiful Apple tree
No Eve this is the knowledge tree
Look Eve there is sign in the sky
Can't you see?
Lord command 'Don't eat from the apple tree'
Ha Ha Ha
Who is that?
I am serpent of the garden
Listen Adam
Listen Eve
Go pick the big apple
from the tree
Adam my honey
Do you hear me?
My stomach is aching
go get me this delicious apple
Eve I would not disobey the Lord
Oh Adam
Oh Honey
You seduce me Eve
Ooh Adam
Ooh Eve
Something happened after
we ate the apple
Go Adam get some Fig leaves
Adam Let's rest
under the shaded tree
Adam let's have babies
Eve let's have off-springs

poem by Sherif Monem
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The Rattlesnake

i see to it that i read a poem a day,
like an apple,

or a sunrise that i must but watch quickly
because i have to go somewhere else

what you have to offer is a litany of your
pain, that rattlesnake that hid somewhere

and which you cannot find despite grandpa's help
you molt

i do not have much time left as i too have to chase
my own snakes

that make the sound during the night
but so silent during the day

that no one hears them
or believe that they all exist

i make it up for you
that there is no snake that cabinets are only for our clothes

i eat smiles for breakfast and save every morsel of it
when the night comes.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It

TO Kiss it, and hug it, and touch it,
To stare at it, to slide my hands beneath it,
To make my lips touch it, and to rub my body against it,
To bring it to life with me, to undress it and caress it,
To kiss its all body with my tongue
To be above it at its center
Of its being,
To sleep with it and wake with it
After a night of love,

To be crazy with it,
To dance with it, and be with it, and leave all that I have
Because, all because of it,
To destroy family ties, and make enemies of all people
Because of it,
Because it is wholeheartedly delicious
Because I can be free
Because my whole being likes to be with it,
Because I am in love with it,
Because I can be whole
Because I can be complete
Simply because

I am not me today
I am
I am still going to be.

IT.
Just it, it cannot love me in return,
It just laughs
And cannot understand,
It is just it,
And it calls me simply
Not even with my name,
That I can die for it,
It
Simply calls me
IT.

It’s crazy, I know
But tell me what I can really do about
IT.

IT IS NOTHING.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Discernment

once it was the clarity that i sought
and there was none and all i had is doubt

once i was sure of myself
and believed it to be so such stuff that is stiff
until i became a river of stool
and everything in there is foul

and i slept and i wake up and i thought
about what are those that landed in my spout

perhaps clarity is not what must be sought
neither doubt
for who wants doubt to rule our lives
as though we do not live in a world of lies
upon some layers of
historical rocks and socks?

and then i simply look around me
simply describing what comes and what passes on a day

a bus loading passengers
hands waiving gears
a very calm sea
a wharf where boats are free
a house by the mountain
fireflies feasting on the rain
a tree crown at night
beside a river up tight
sounds of owls and
ghouls
a rain that starts
pouring
on the roof of the house
listening
simply listening
much about nothing
about these things
as they are
disregarding
who we are

every moment is an act to be done
spic and span
every hour
an spectator
every second simply
passing line
beyond the edge
of a clean page

i do not think for the future now
in the same manner that i let the past sleep like it were dead.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Writing is like

One that I had in a dream
I was a bird flying high
Smooth air on my wings
Then I suddenly
Fell down
I did not experience any
Cut on any of my wings
They simply stopped flapping
And the air slipped
Sucked by some
Monster in space

It is like writing
I fall down today
From the heights of
Inspiration and
My mind simply
Breaks down
No thought
No dictation
From up there

Every word is sucked
Into nothingness

And all the boredom
That I have confessed to you
Once twice and always
Such that
You believe that I am
Simply inventing things
For attention,

All these are true.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fly my lovely kite in the rain

wet cloth me in the night, dress me with a
mink that feather my skin; warm my day
with joy in the lucky sky, return the smooth
of the mouth that sweating my tongue of
the fresh dew lips i return as you

fly little kite in the rain, the tail that guide, hide
it with the wind, cut it short as it dance in the
turmoil breezing skies with dazzling wiggle; just
parting each part with the tearing tail it fall, come
wash out the waiting wet tail in the high above
the land it fly the night may fall, but the rain it
speed up in the tailing sky, as far in a distance
light beneath the horizon of a different
Heavenly skies

rain. rain; touch my tail in the body it fell, thread
lost as far it could stood, hold where nobody should
fold, in the string the wet kite brings, the neon of
fresh, steer me to find the genuine face where
everybody wish to tie my hand to stay goodbye

soar high my dear kite the sky is wide, easy to
fly, as you surf the heavenly sky, leave no one to
remember that the past has something to say
of how to make it easy, with a heavy tail in the air

weight balance my speed, in the wet it rise,
to the spectrum of the clouds, where you want stay
high......fly my kite, the wet tail seem it easy to
carry as the sky goes high

poem by Antonio Liao
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A Review

the tree was loaded with apples
in the garden of Eden
and Eve was so Hungry
for apples she always dreamed of apples
even if Adam is just beside her
that jejune
she is the first jejemon,
and on that day when God was not watching
when the Snake was merely behaving like a Snake
she touches an apple
her dream
and he ate one and Adam so likes it
she takes a bite...

nothing new really, just a pass and review
of their story that we believe without any question at all

the moral lesson: reflect on ourselves, we are the consistent
gullible readers
we are never original on this.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sonnet: Heaven is for Pure Souls

A Turkey towel, sodden is heavy;
A sinful soul can't rise to Heav'n above;
A drowned man's lungs are air-less, watery;
The sinful soul to hell drops like a dove.

How can a glutton make his body light?
The anchor out of water is heavy;
How can man see well on a Moonless night?
To give up bad-habits is not easy.

The dust-bin’s meant to hold all littered things;
The garbage-dump has house-hold refuse spilled;
The library has books good for earthlings;
The soul of man must always be grace-filled.

Containers must contain just things aright;
Sunlight is day and darkness fills the night.

poem by John Celes
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The Reality Of These All

at night she tiptoes to the doors of
our waking thoughts
we are amazed at the images of light
eaten by the mouth of darkness
the Muse stares at the interplay of
good and evil
there is simply no word for who shall win
and then we are tired
our eyes begin to fail and our body gives in
buried in the darkness of the night

then we are taken in the world of dreams
where everything becomes possible
what we were not in those waking days
the dreams hand them all
broken hearts mended
fortunes flow
luck is abundant as the fish in the oceans
there is a crowd of success and bliss
but you know the limits of all these
soundless worlds

and those who refuse to wake up
simply die.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dora

Lead vocal : eric woolfson
Dora, in the middle of the night
Will you wait for me
Till the morning sun shine bright
For its all a dream
And its only make believe
Dora, oh it hurts to hear you say
Youre all alone
And the pain wont go away
But its all a dream
And its only make believe
Listening through the hours of the day
Waiting for the night to end
Thinking, though its not for me to say
When will I see you again
When will I see you again
Forget the lies they whisper in your ear
And every superstitious word you hear
Dora, though the truth is hard to face
And the fantasy
Is not easy to replace
Its all a dream
And its only make believe
Oh, I keep thinking
Of the words I shouldnt say
When will I see you again
When will I see you again
And every doubt they whisper in your ear
And all the half-forgotten past you fear
One day will fade away and disappear
Dora, in the middle of the night
Do you wait for me
Where the morning sun shine bright
Is it all a dream
Is it only make believe
Is it all a thread
Of the tangled web you weave
Is it all a dream
Is it only make believe

song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Zipper my tongue

notice me not; i am zipper by the fence of
my teeth and close by the lips, protected by two
holes beneath the two big eye balls rap with color
little hair, to feel it shiny tiny cloth of skin to tell

why keep in talking if the heart can't improve
good silent, and why the nose always breathing
when, the same air, feel in the air, would it's not
easy for the ears listen and talk to the wind after
the dawn of silent

sleep my dear heart; let us always open the mouth
and touch the teeth for every silent the tongue will
speak; for each return claps the hands where the pin
is on

what then the little heart tell, when the big blind
mouth says that; the waiting is over for everything is
ready to a harder fight, and win a better glorious
victory, its not the right aim yet, the best shoot it
gain

stop my apology; the same things happen again,
please switch a new beginning for my awesome
heart zipper my tongue forever......

poem by Antonio Liao
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Somethings Become Missing....

the first thing in the morning is not a cup of coffee

it is cold as usual
and the heavy rain last night just stops

that must make me survive
but it is as personal as the

armpits

it could even be the bland taste of my
own saliva

keeping myself intact with my own
resources

nothing about cups of coffee and

melting butters
it is the fingers that we press upon

words that we play with our own tongues

hugged by our teeth

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Everything In The Loo!

These things, these things
settling and settling in the heart
Assemble weapons and pat on the rat
And settling and settling as soldiers unto war
And the heart of owner, the king and the warrior
They come and come as to mall and flip and gallop
Filling such body of organs and mop and swap
Happily and swagger, they creep as to war and grow
Poor soldiers, poor soldiers marching as to war and wrath
And that hand simply and simply gets frail and pale
And the commando laughs and blues to kill and peel
Finished yeah, finished while the owner comes and consoled
Finished yeah, finished fighters applaud on a such commando
While the owner comes and consoled and consoled unto call
The sun then glares and glares, the night unto fall
The words roar and roar and roar from above love
And it comes and says, everything in the loo!
And everything burns, scorched and goes and goes unto coal
Then the heart stands and stands, resuming from dawn
And smeared and smeared now and again with fire flame
The words, cool and squint and die at rays
This is IAM from the rest and rest I exist, such words
Then the words is God for real and distroyer

poem by Paul Mwenelupembe
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A Change Of Plan....

a heavy rain at night
gives us
a sage for morning
it teaches.
this sage of a tunnel of trees.
a bench
in the middle of green
space.

i wake up this morning
destroying all itineraries.
there is something
more to
what i dream of when i am
awake.

i deny this body.
i flower thoughts.

i tend a garden of justifications
life is not a single line along the edge of a clean sheet of paper.

we are supposed to meet today and mend those broken segments.
finally, i send the signal.

Red.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This Garden Of Eden

The garden of eden, was made
by God,
Adam, the first man, to ever
trod.

Beautiful trees, and plants
grew there,
Adam was happy, without a
care.

Tree of Life, and Knowledge
too,
Planted, in the garden grew.

The tree of Knowledge, God
forbid,
Do not touch, or he would rid.

A lost paradise would occur,
A magic kingdom, all a blur.

One day when Adam fell asleep,
God took a rib, made Eve so
sweet.

Satan came in form of a snake,
Tempted Eve, for goodness sake.

She ate the apple ripe and red,
gave it to Adam, Adam was fed.

A paradise was lost that day,
A working life began this way.

poem by Heather Burns
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