Who And What We Are And What We Do
you are the witch of the night
and i am the wizard too
and so here we are
roaming the night with our black wings
on half bodies
we are looking for words
and metaphors
to eat
we have separated our minds
and bodies
there will be more insomniac nights
and more bloody encounters
among ourselves
some blood and flesh will fall on the ground unnoticed
tomorrow morning
some flowers with red petals grow
the passersby will smell the
odor of our lives
we are the poets and the poetesses
without our names in the books
of their collections
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Story To Tell....
the images of light
like needles from the sun this morning
actually, there are no threads
and nothing to sew
actually, there are no significances
except some few
every word must have a story for you
and you may ask me
but always i agree to disagree with you
words have their own lives their own existence
i am only a vehicle
i am only a body to this ghost
for we are nothing but wings of some black birds
that hover on our backs
when they are through they all leave us
and they take all the wings they have given us in our imagination
we fall asleep and when when we wake up
we check if we are still us mirrored in the pond of still waters
our hands touch our faces
sliding through our smooth bodies
then we say, goodbye black bird
and thank you for making us live all over again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bloody Paper Dolls
They bleed an ink of green blood
Cut them out
Faces of drawn misfortune
Bodies of frail dresses
Minds of empty blue lines
Given names of whores from distorted streets
Megan molly Shannon mind so weak
Created world of plagiarized lives
These bloody paper dolls have no eyes
They see not the tears upon her face
They bleed words onto the page
Green ink dripping
Soft words describing a life
Take there heads the lose all purpose
Fixed scissors this time ill make a man
Green ink bleeds from the cut up words
And the body it forms
These dolls aren’t real they are a shaken reality
Let her be she has dreams
And I cut the words from this page
I lost my age
I’m old... and still
I have bloody paper dolls all around
They rule my life
They are my reality
My friends
These words now just letters
Green ink stains my finger tips
My bloody dolls you are it.
poem by Victoria Martinez
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Smelling The Flowers
(8/17/12)
Always looking at the clock, wondering about the hour
Never stopping to smell the flowers.
There was a time that life was at a slower pace
Now it seems we're always in a race.
The one thing that I know is that we don't
Spend enough time to watch our children grow.
I saw my marriage failing because I was
Too busy running around, as she looked at me
Without making a sound.
You can keep quite to a certain point in life
then she explodes, and it's not very nice.
The closeness that you knew seems to be
Fading away -and with you she doesn't want to stay
That is when you realize that your fires have to be rekindled
No ashes will you see - for this love will not be a faded love
In the books of history.
We then reaffirmed it in our minds
That this love would last for a very long time
And when our bodies became entwined
It was like sharing a bottle of wine.
We savored the juices as they flowed
For we had become connoisseurs
this much we know.
I started to smell the flowers as I did
In my younger years, as for losing my wife
I no longer have that fear.
SLOW DOWN AND SMELL THE FLOWERS!
poem by Louis Rams
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I Carry a Single Rose
I carry a single red Rose
In my tightening hold
For Love is what it propose
At least it’s what I’m told.
It’s fragrance of beauty
Overtakes me with its great power
The air all around me
When I hold a single flower
I grasp the Red Rose ever more tight
Drip, drip red petals fall into the night.
This Rose, a lovely delight
Has already consumed my sense of smell
Now it has stolen my sight
In this symbol of love I dwell
The ruby red petals fill my eyes
Captures the thoughts in my mind
Now I am completely hypnotized
Now I am completely blind.
I grasp the Red Rose ever more tight
Drip, drip red petals fall into the night.
It dazzles me, until it is all I can see
It’s touch so gentle against my cheek
Trapped me inside this beautiful make believe
For my heart, Love it will always seek
The leaves run through my finger tip
As they map a stem so strong and tall
A stem that fit so nicely inside my grip
Its lushes strength adds beauty to it all
I grasp the Red Rose ever more tight
Drip, drip red petals fall into the night.
I hold on for dear life
As my body sets off painful alarms
And now I’m stuck in this strife
Of letting go and hanging on
It’s so perfect, inside my hold
But I can feel the world around me
I can feel it growing cold
Now I am leaving this make believe
I grasp the Red Rose ever more tight
Drip, drip red petals fall into the night.
In a moment of true disgust
I slowly loosen my grasp
And I take away my trust
And wait for my world to collapse
But Pain races through my bones
So I clench a Rose inside my fist
And I realize I am alone
Lost inside this confusing mist
I grasp the Red Rose ever more tight
Drip, drip red petals fall into the night.
And I finally swiftly let go
The Rose falls to the bloody ground
No longer shall my blood flow
No longer shall I be bound
And of this single Red Rose
Petals of Love blinded me to my Pain
Being neither friend nor foe
I wash the blood with tears like rain.
I leave the Rose with all my might
Run, run into the black cold night.
We Hated Goodbyes
i too wish of the wine,
the drunkenness, and the togetherness
that night, when we have become
free-willy, no thoughts, just our bodies,
no restraints, nothing about tomorrow,
when we were lost, and yet so happy,
and when we wake up that morning,
we did not really know what we were doing,
we're all wet in dryness, lips cracked,
bruised bodies, strangled hairs,
satisfied navels,
and then, that which we hated,
yes, goodbyes.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fertile Ground
Some lives fall on fertile ground
and grow and grow and grow.
Some lives fall on stony ground
and fail to grow at all.
We are like the seeds of flowers
we need a base to grow,
to spread our roots
and watch our seedlings grow.
11 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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Nature's Rose
As the vast nature
blinds the eye by its beauty
the trees grow taller
the grasses grow greener
The animals grow more peaceful in their natural habitat
But none grow as beautiful as the red rose
As the red rose grows day by day
I walk by it desiring to pick it
Sitting and waiting for the petals to grow more mature
To grow and show off the beauty of the rose
Years go by and the rose is almost grown
This special rose is different from the rest.
Others grow, beautify, and die
While this one grows year after year
The blood of the rose is pure
as it flows up and through the beautiful flower
But the rose has not completed its growth
I run my hand down the body of the beautiful flower
Shedding my blood from the sharp thorns
I grasp the flower and thrust it from the ground
As my blood drips, the blood of the flowers does so too
The red of both mix and mature and fall to the ground dropp after drop
The smell of the flower overtakes the pain
This is Nature's Rose
Following The Sickness
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
Fighting our own shadows, fooled by our enemies.
They are the ones you just can't see.
The unaccepted theory is rejected yet again.
But still the chorus plays.
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
To whom it may concern.
A poetic letter, dressed in feathers.
Does it make it any prettier?
A distraction from the purpose.
Delivering the simplest of messages.
And still they are not heard.
Oh no they are never heard.
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
And man is yet to learn.
And man is yet to learn.
Foolish know it alls.
A change in circumstances will cause a sudden fall.
A broken bone, or ego?
A laceration or a severed artery?
Is it serious or superficial?
An inflamation that just won't go down.
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
And it has brought me here.
A million passersby's.
An angelic looking sky.
Prying the heavens for just one peek.
I wonder if it has what I seek.
A cure
A cure
For this world.
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
If you are ever lost just follow the sickness.
Its everywhere.
Just go from there.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Destiny's Breath!
the face of my god is dark,
her eyes coal more precious than diamonds.
she whispers to fallen petals,
and mountains and rivers speak forth.
her lips call crows and name them eagles,
her hands are filled with bowls.
she names the darkness morning,
and from the light she weaves the night.
she bathes the human spirit,
in the sweat of tribulation.
she nurses the unwanted child,
and places flowers on unmarked graves.
she gives lost lovers candles,
builds bridges for weary pilgrims.
she forges doubt into the journey,
and plants dignity in fields gone fallow.
she walks with poets in intimate silence,
from grieving she harvests prayer.
from prayer she forms bodies,
filled with destiny's breath!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Gen The Witch
The witch broods
In the middle of her self-centred, self-limiting
Tangled web of lies, half-truths and self-deception;
Ventures forth only to capture and envenom the unwary, the unknowing.
Their minds ingested by the witch,
Her progeny, indulged in baubles, chocolate and late-night television
Are ever by the maternal sac
Imbibing further indoctrination and instruction.
The witch, the witch, the witch.
poem by Mill Field
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Night--A Phantasy
Night! the horrible wizard Night!
The dumb and terrible Night
Hath drawn his circle of magic, round
Over the sky, and over the ground,
Without a sound.
Ah me, what woeful phantoms rise,
With ice-cold hands and pitiless eyes,
As stars grow out of the summer skies,
Tangible things to mortal sight,
Under the hands of the wizard Night!
Night! the mystical prophet, Night!
The haunted and awful Night!
With the trail of his garment's shadowy fall,
Soundless and black as a funeral pall,
Now enters his dread laboratory.
A wan, and faint, and wavering glory
Shines from a veiled lamp somewhere hidden.
Like a lily in a grave:
And things unholy, and things forbidden,-
Hands that have long been the earth-worm's prey,
And shrouded faces out of the clay.
Rise and fill the enchanted cave
With a pale and deathly light,-
The haunted and awful Night!
Night! the abhorred magician Night!
The black astrologer Night!
Night is the world!-I shiver with fright:-
The air is full of evil things,
The coil and glitter of snaky rings,
And, the tremor of vast invisible wings,
That are not heard but felt:
They touch my hair, my hand, my cheek,
They mope and mouth, but they never speak
To utter their awful history.
Oh, when will the darkness break and melt,
Like blocks of ice on a golden reef,
And little by little, as leaf by leaf,
In light and color and form increased,
The rose of morning blooms in the east,-
The old yet ever new mystery!
And I fall on my knees to worship the light
That casts out the evil demon of Night,
And hallows with blossoms, like prayers, the way
Of another new day.
poem by Kate Seymour Maclean
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Books up on books
Color in Black, color in white
And also in different colors
Colors were brushed in minds
Respectively be hard
Printed embossed letters
In books of epigraphy
Color in black
On Space of white
Told that is black
Black white and colors
Books up on books
Being closed near by
Dialogues having intercourse
Get soaked colors of minds
Smudged
Scabrous words
Boorish colors
In a content of
In a book
Wearing a strange cover
Not get closed
And be separated
Having filed up afar
At the library of old
On a table
Books up on books
Turn pages
Marking and conflicting
And also comparing
An empty paper
A pen
A hand with five fingers
An artist
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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Cry In The Night...
one last drink,
and a cobblestone prayer,
a hat creased by dreams,
boots made of flesh.
nickels and dimes,
revolution and light.
while shadows dance,
amid cobwebbed desires..
and the sparrow's lament,
mourns over buildings lost.
over lives soon forgotten,
over hunger and loss.
while the faces of children,
burned into the grain.
to the words of a god,
forgotten by name!
now liberty's nails,
rust beneath the load.
bodies piled on bodies,
under circling crows.
and justice lies beaten,
stripped in the alley.
while confusion reigns,
and indifference shouts!
who am I? ... you ask,
with threatening pose.
while the stink of your fear
burns books in the night...
i am the voice of your heart,
the dignity of your soul.
i am the cry in the darkness,
that bears your name!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Devil's Night
a lust for blood a horrors night
a longing for the taste of innocent
flesh demons come out to play
when the nights hour is none
let the rest less rise and roam
through the streets of the living
let all awake hear the screams
as blood stains the nights streets
reward the wicked with a personal
lick of the tongue down the neck
as the blood filled vains pop in your
mouth feel alive again as your thrist
for blood is lifted
feed my children feed rip the life out of
the living let all your my children feed
allow the living to fear when the nights
none let only the wandering souls of the
dead roam these streets
cause tonight we feed like
kings on to the flesh of the living
let all a sleep awake to the horried streets
an when the nights bright let the
shattered memories of former friends
mothers, children, father be seen in a pool
of there own blood as we rest to return again
when the clock strights 3am and the night
becomes none =] hahaha until tomorrow my pretties
until tomorrow
poem by Robert Roberts
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Halloween 2
The dark night
The most deadly night of nights
The most bloody night of nights
The night where blood flows like a river
The night of scary
The last time a gun is pointed to my head
The last of the pain
The last of the suffering
The last time you’ll see me on
This night ever again
poem by Thomas Conner
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Souls and Spirits
In one corner, I see light, and
In another, a fallen tree-
Looking from the corner of your eye-
I know you still see me and
Even with the splendor of
That place where flowers are growing,
I never believed in you.
I never believed you truly cared,
Even when you brought me flowers, it was only
In a make-believe sense-
Their petals would fall and
The wind would carry them away.
In one corner, I see light-
Your candle that was supposed to guide me, but
That tree fell between us., and
You are now, gone forever,
Even though the light still shines and
Figuratively, you still see the pain that
You put me through and now- that you are gone,
You are gone in body but in spirit
You shall always be there looking into my eyes,
Threatening me, wishing me none but harm.
I shall keep on walking, walking away
From your spirit and now I know and
Now I believe that it isn't bodies-flesh and blood that haunt-
In flesh and blood a person can be gone for a hundred years,
Never to return but if a person was cruel and conniving in spirit-
That spirit shall never be forgotten and that person's soul
Shall forever irk until the day that I pass away and leave this world
In flesh, mind and spirit forever although fearfully I know
All spirits whether good or evil, shall never die.
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Unexplained
In darkness lay the secrets
In darkness lay the creatures
As darkness goes so does the lies
People go missing
Dead bodies found
No blood
Two holes
Life itself drained
And undead walk the living
Undead walk the night
Sun to strong
Night just right
Undead walk the night
Undead walk the living
More bodies found
No blood
Two holes
People grow cautious
Religion, Superstitious, Paranormal
All things questioned
All life questioned
People turn on each other
More bodies
No blood
Two holes
People flee
People run screaming
All that's left are the secrets
All that's left are the creatures
And the darkness that holds the lies
poem by Sam Wright
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Satiated
I bring the night
because that is where our lightning lives
our rough, sweaty reckonings
bodies and hearts writhing
minds shut down
Thinking's Abandonment;
silent senses
engulfed
inside the bodies realm
where
Experience Craves
its own ends
screamings in our night
fulfillments
surging in our pantings
in that drivenness
that urgent
release
demands
At
Exhaustion's End
our Time unsuspends
ejected from its
matrices;
we lay side by side
amazed
at once again
having been
taken
outside ourselves
controls lost
and/or abandoned
landing
there bedside
exhausted
spend
and satiated.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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We Still Have Love...
we start with the tradition of life
we begin as bodies
tasting the fire of the flesh
savoring each moment
of skin and bones
and hair
time has a crucible
it tests us
about what we are
what are our intentions
what is in our hearts
our bodies are taken
the flesh weakens
the fire subsides
the skin loosens from the hold of the bones
the bones crack
the hairs have fallen
into surrender
we have become mere minds
intangible intentions
our hearts lose the sounds of the drums of life
we have no more hands to hold with each other
we have become the wind
we breathe into each other
the love that shall then be forgotten
we have become the sighs of the earth
into the darkness of its nights
what then my love? must we transcend the havoc that life
has caused upon us?
tomorrow, the eyes of death shall stare at us
we must decide
let not any stone of earth
be disappointed
we still have love
beyond and above.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Did I Tell You That I Have Goiter?
it was accidentally discovered
when my arms felt numb
i have two nodules inside my neck
and still at 2 cm.
i am hyperactive, and i will be more of an
insomniac, so please understand
that i will be writing more senseless poems,
my therapy, but you may not read them,
it is alright.
i can manage my nights without you.
i am a wizard, an owl, i will be blacker than the night.
without you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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