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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA  4/30/2016 11:17:55 PM
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  RIC S. BASTASA
 
 
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  5597.     

At The Center Of My Being

at the center of my being
lies all my weaknesses
and if you hit it right at
bull's eye, i will surely die,

your fingers do not find me
my skins are walls.
your lips are too searching
but my tongue has curled
upon itself like a frozen meat.
your eyes try to melt me
but my mind has hardened
like a rock, you try to cradle
my body, like a swing, but
my arms have changed into
sturdy pillars

at the center of my being
there was once this queen,
she turns into a sparrow
forever taken by tomorrow.


and so no matter what you do,
nothing happens to my sorrow
at the center of my being
someone tries to call you
and smile and waive at you,
i am telling you, i do not know.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  5598.     

At The Center Of Our Universe

to get close to each
other
we must find a common
center
and once fixed
we all moved towards that
we become one
after a certain
time

then the outer
line dissolves
like an afternoon
horizon
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  5599.     

At The Church Mass....

there they go again
(i within)
hearing mass in
the church,

it is Saturday
evening,

it is a show of
music and poetry
of song and
choreography

uniformed ladies and
gentlemen
white and gray and
carrying candle lights
for accent

i like this show
as i perspire a lot
in this multitude

what i do not like
is this
what do i understand
by all these
mixes?

i sit on one of those
chairs
thinking about
nothing.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  5600.     

At The Club Ultima,39th Floor

we somehow feel the bond
of unity
we feel the abundance of food
and emotions
no one is telling somehow
what is it
that makes us still torn apart
from the link

she is seated beside me
i look at the veins blue on her wrist
she is not eating much
fear of fats
and betrayal
fear of too much acidity
in her guts

when she looks at me she smiles
though i find something mysterious
concealed and yet too obvious
to be mentioned
i keep my dumb silence taking
seasoned beef inside my mouth
to keep me from
using words of which i am
getting skilled at
covers

the rest are noisy
as the live band plays
Latin beat songs

the mother feeds the child
two mothers
who want the best for their kids
clean fun

the man over the edge trusts me
sad, there is no way that he sees what is inside
my heart

there is something sinister there
like a masked ninja scheming to seize
what he treasures

and then i look at her again
this time she knows what i want
she says she likes it here
on the 39th floor
though there is more fun
at the 20th
where their is a sort of
happy quiet
and pallid privacy
with the hint that she will be alone
as she owns that room
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA