Rumors
Flowers on a bed
Lilies on a grave;
Every lived soul
Becomes a slave
To the love we want,
And the dying we get -
Life is rudimentary rumors
And salient storms;
It's an unfinished life
In many forms
Of all the stories we have heard from afar,
Rumors, of a Land where lives no regret -
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Dawn Finally Arises
Anyone who has ever remained persistent,
With a fluid consistency...
Has met some opposition.
And is familiar with negativity.
It takes the gritting of teeth.
And the biting of nails,
To prevail even when failure may be in sight.
With a nipping at the heels of one refusing defeat.
And suddenly it seems,
That nothing but nightmares...
Have come to replace hopes and dreams,
When dawn finally arises to clear a bright horizon.
It looks a lot different,
From the rumors I heard...
Of a dawn others said was gone.
It looks much different,
From rumors fed...
Of a dawn that would never turn on.
It looks a lot different,
From the rumors I heard...
Of a dawn others said was gone.
And...
I'm so glad I persisted.
To witness it to see,
For myself.
Yeah, yeah, yeah...
It looks a lot different,
From the rumors I heard...
Of a dawn others said was gone.
It looks much different,
From rumors fed...
Of a dawn that would never turn on.
It looks a lot different,
From the rumors I heard...
Of a dawn others said was gone.
And...
I'm so glad I persisted.
To witness it to see,
For myself.
It looks a lot different,
The dawn!
When it is witnessed,
The dawn!
And...
I'm so glad I persisted.
To witness and to see it,
For myself.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Rumors and Lies
Rumors and Lies
Rumors and Lies
Humor no longer there
Wondering how you can bare
Going through the day like you just dont care
Rumors and Lies
Rumors and Lies
You hide in the bathroom
So no one sees you cry
Tears streaming down your face
Wondering how you got to this place...
poem by Kaleigh Greenfield
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There are rumors, rumors, rumors. I'm always the last one to know about these things, literally.
quote by Shawn Ashmore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Should Have Been More Responsible...
i should have been responsible for you
suffer for your loss
i could have drawn a map to find you
you are lost
it is this regret
that i keep on leaving
i, too, has a life of my own to live
a mountain to climb
a river to cross
a house to build or destroy
if i really want to
a grave to visit, flowers to throw away
to the winds
it is this disappointment that has kept me alive
i could have been more responsible
to each of you, sick and needing help
or dying and needing even just a prayer
but i too, has the time too short
to accomplish what i haven't
lots of unfinished business too
and so i cannot be yet taken
i've been empty, so empty that i begin to float
i drift like everyone else
still undecided where to land and be myself again
when i was just born
what i lost, i have not yet recovered,
my innocence, what i had was so much, this pride,
what i must achieve, seems but only a dream,
and it is not coming, no signal, no warning,
death for instance... oh,
i should have been more responsible than that,
i could have lived the life you've wasted.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You Reek of Fresh Rehabilitation
You are much different,
From the kind of person...
I heard you are and would be.
'Don't worry about it.
There are a lot of people I haven't met,
I don't like either.
Socially I rely upon rumors.
Few take the time to get to know anyone.
And with the rumors and gossip as good as they are today...
Why bother?
Who do you know sits around without something juicy to share?
Everybody seems to be riding on a downslide.'
But you don't have to participate!
'Oh please please please!
You reek of fresh rehabilitation.
Were you 'just' released from prison? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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History Lover....
a place is interesting because of the stories that you have heard before.
for instance, this bed is where this man and that woman first made it.
this house is deserted because once a fire broke here
and chaos is born, and chaos wears a mask and since then people do not recognize its face.
a name to you is interesting because your mother tells the story of that name.
the spelling has a history about a rumor and you love rumors.
shall i say that you pretend that you like to have a talk with him
because you like to gather some flowers from his garden?
that is a nice objective. Flowers are always a delight at the center table.
the earth appears to be thirsty of conflicts. That is a misinterpretation.
The deserted path knows better. No one really cares what one does with his feet.
The moon knows it all. But look, it simply shines and does not tell you anything.
For secrets have always been nuggets. They must remain buried.
When dug again and shaped into different forms, that is where the definition of hell comes out.
I am not the one saying this anyway. Quite harsh.
Hell is other people. And i am one of its delicate flames.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In all, we investigated, I think, close to 50 rumors about offers to kill Dr. King around the country. But we found no evidence to support rumors of FBI involvement in the assassination.
quote by Louis Stokes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballade Of Blind Love
Who have loved and ceased to love, forget
That ever they loved in their lives, they say;
Only remember the fever and fret,
And the pain of Love, that was all his pay;
All the delight of him passes away
From hearts that hoped, and from lips that met -
Too late did I love you, my love, and yet
I shall never forget till my dying day.
Too late were we 'ware of the secret net
That meshes the feet in the flowers that stray;
There were we taken and snared, Lisette,
In the dungeon of La Fausse Amistie;
Help was there none in the wide world's fray,
Joy was there none in the gift and the debt;
Too late we knew it, too long regret -
I shall never forget till my dying day!
We must live our lives, though the sun be set,
Must meet in the masque where parts we play,
Must cross in the maze of Life's minuet;
Our yea is yea, and our nay is nay:
But while snows of winter or flowers of May
Are the sad year's shroud or coronet,
In the season of rose or of violet,
I shall never forget till my dying day!
ENVOY.
Queen, when the clay is my coverlet,
When I am dead, and when you are grey,
Vow, where the grass of the grave is wet,
'I shall never forget till my dying day!'
poem by Andrew Lang
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223
sweet rumors
Deserted house
With thatched roof
Along the Dicayo River
Rumors are sweet
On a swarm of bees
Who now live there
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Take The Bitter With The Sweet
(p. glass/s. ray/s. birch)
You, heard somebody sayin
That I loved another (ooh ooh ooh)
They dont know, its not easy fakin
Lies about your lover (ooh ooh ooh)
Nothing they could tell you
Would change the way it feels
But when they, try to come between us
We still have each other (ooh ooh ooh)
Ive heard it all, and I have my faults
But I could never hurt you, I love you through it all
Take the bitter with the sweet
Two hearts are stronger together
Love can be forever
Take the bitter with the sweet
We cant let rumors affect us
We just, have to trust
I, want you more than ever
No matter what they told you (ooh ooh ooh)
If they pry, doesnt really matter
Long as I can hold you (ooh ooh ooh)
People can say what they want to say
But you know that I love you, its better every day
Take the bitter with the sweet
Two hearts are stronger together
Love can be forever
Take the bitter with the sweet
We cant let rumors affect us
We just, have to trust
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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303
be silent now, do not ever mention my name
the connotations of my name
the one i talk about me about you
and us,
the rumors are always sweet
and you like them and you cannot hold yourself
from spreading them
to everyone who knows the power of my name
its magic spell
its sweetness like a coconut dessert
with you now
my name shall have its stains and i will be in ruin
sssssssssssshhh, stop
do not talk about my name now,
the rumors may be sweet to the ears of my enemies
and false friends
they will have the dose now, of their own medicines,
thinking that i am down, depressed, or even dead
to the last detail of my own perdition,
i will rise to save myself and tell them all
that the rumors are not true,
i will show them a happy face and some dancing steps
some pictures of my big smile
no, they will not believe me
they will believe you, as expected, i have anticipated all these
today, i will die
laughing....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sssssssssh, Please Do Not Talk About It
sssssssssssshhhh
be silent now, do not ever mention my name
the connotations of my name
the one i talk about me about you
and us,
the rumors are always sweet
and you like them and you cannot hold yourself
from spreading them
to everyone who knows the power of my name
its magic spell
its sweetness like a coconut dessert
with you now
my name shall have its stains and i will be in ruin
sssssssssssshhh, stop
do not talk about my name now,
the rumors may be sweet to the ears of my enemies
and false friends
they will have the dose now, of their own medicines,
thinking that i am down, depressed, or even dead
to the last detail of my own perdition,
i will rise to save myself and tell them all
that the rumors are not true,
i will show them a happy face and some dancing steps
some pictures of my big smile
no, they will not believe me
they will believe you, as expected, i have anticipated all these
today, i will die
laughing....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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For An Old Man
Why do I prefer to be direct, blatant in my remarks...
And honest?
It is fun for me to observe those deceitful,
To find something I do to undermine.
And when they can not find anything embarrassing...
Since I do that myself with glee anyway,
I love to hear the fresh rumors they create.
They are more innovative than the ones I start,
On myself.
Just to see which ones,
Keep those tongues wagging.
Very few people know,
I am devoted to writing.
With a life that would bore
Roosters in cock fight to sleep!
Well...
I exaggerate.
But,
I do live a life that is quiet.
And I admit I do get excited when I hear,
About that 'wild' life I'm living.
It makes me smile when I realize...
For an old man...in age.
According to my great nieces...
('Gee Uncle Larry! You're 62? ? ? WOW')
Although not in appearance!
~the older the berry,
the sweeter the juice...remembered~(LOL)
With gossipers I use to keep me popular!
If they only knew,
How clever my rumors are!
And I have to spread at least one a month,
On myself.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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People In Other People's Lives They Have Never Met
Are you that person,
To take what you hear...
To be fact and not fiction?
Have you ever disliked someone,
Because of what you've heard?
Did you ever disrespect anyone,
To one day regret paying attention to gossip?
Helping to spread the rumors...
That defamed and shamed lives that were done.
And you had been the main one...
Wishing to pass on fresh innuendos to come.
And one day...
You just happen to meet,
The nicest person someone else introduced to you...
As the two of you met,
Coincidentally on the street.
And there you were,
Feeling embarrassed with remorse...
You and others,
Were the reason this person was divorced!
Well...
You are not alone.
There are so many people in other people's lives,
They have never met.
Nor have ever seen before...
Until they actually meet!
On the street or socially...
With wishes they could find someone like that,
To come home to and be happy to love.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stories
Every year has its own stories in this life,
Every month has its own stories in this life,
Every week has its own stories in this life,
Every day has its own stories in this life,
Every hour has its own stories in this life,
Every minute has its own stories in this life,
And like the muse of the mind as we grow up;
So, we are all with stories to tell in this world.
As white as snow,
As red as blood,
As balck as charcoal,
As green as the grass,
As blue as the sky;
But everybody has stories to tell in this world!
And like the muse o love in the land of beauty,
For each year has its own story.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Falcon
They're near cracking.
And tracking a balloon,
On rumors.
They're near cracking.
And hoping that ballon lands soon.
A boy is claimed to be alone.
And flying on his own,
Alone...
High in the sky and crying.
But he was found to not have flown.
And hiding in a box.
Hoping that his daddy wouldn't fuss at him a lot.
They're near cracking.
And tracking a balloon,
On rumors.
They're near cracking.
And hoping that ballon lands soon.
'Falcon? '
~Yes, daddy? ~
'Falcon? '
~Yes, daddy? ~
'Falcon no more hiding to start rumors.'
'Falcon? '
~Yes, daddy? ~
'Falcon? '
~Yes, daddy? ~
'Falcon no more hiding to start rumors.'
'Falcon? '
~Yes, daddy? ~
'Falcon? '
~Yes, daddy? ~
'Falcon no more hiding to start rumors.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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They Know That They Don't Know
They know that they don't know!
And their opinions discloses the evidence.
Most of their knowledge has been obtained,
By innuendos and nonsense.
Leaving them exposed,
To an ignorance that shows.
They know that they don't know!
And any actions taken to comprehend...
Becomes entrapped by an inferiority,
Felt within them.
And that which escapes their understanding...
Is left out of their reach.
Although very close...
Are those answers they seek most.
But quick they fold their arms to their chests,
With stubborn hands to express...
Their choice not to hear,
What for them is best!
Declaring they wish not to listen...
Because facts distracts,
A consciousness they lack!
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it...
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it...
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
They know that they don't know,
With their minds closed.
They know that they don't know,
With their minds closed.
They know that they don't know,
With their minds closed.
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
They know that they don't know...
And it shows.
They know that they don't know...
And it shows.
They know that they don't know...
And it shows.
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
They know that they don't!
Stubborn and they're limited.
They know that they don't!
Stubborn and they're limited.
They know that they don't!
Stubborn and they're limited.
Stubborn and they're limited.
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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God wants the best for you
There should not be differences,
and even less discrimination.
Everyone should be treated equal,
no matter what the circumstances.
By god we were all created,
And more less like brothers and sisters.
By him we were choose to live this life,
All full of beauty and recreations.
Now do not mess all his work,
After he has made you part of it.
Treat everyone with respect,
And spread your love through your mates,
Do not scream at them or curse,
You will regret it,
Once they have passed away.
Life is short and unexpected.
Do not hurt feelings and be kind,
Spread no rumors,
You will be fine.
Live your life out of blame,
Always go for the best.
poem by Yisel Chong
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You've just got to focus on excellence and try not to be distracted by the news and the rumors and the absurdities of the stories that were coming out.
quote by James Daly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Life Is Lived The Way It Is Lived
A LIFE IS LIVED THE WAY IT IS LIVED
A life is lived the way it is lived
I did what I did
And made mistakes
Maybe most of it was a mistake
I don’t know.
I told myself always
The one thing I would never do
Is regret.
Regrets I don’t have
But the tone of regret now touches all I do
And some deep sadness says
‘I should not have failed so much.’
G-d who gave me this one life
And so much time
And so much opportunity
G-d who gave me my chance truly.
Can I blame You,
If I did not make it?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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