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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA  4/29/2016 12:53:46 PM
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  RIC S. BASTASA
 
 
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  9197.     

It Could Be That

there is a built-in conflict
in this triangle

it is there and will never be
demolished

it could be among you,
God and
the others

it could be you,
your id, your ego and
the super ego,

it could be the child in you,
the parent later,
or the responsible thinker

it could be man, heaven and
earth

each angle well constructed
each side strong as the other

it could be the white and the black horse
and the chariot

and you with your whip
and your hand

it could be that you are tired
you disembark

you take a walk and wish that
you had never been born


in this ocean
your choices are waves of the sea

you are the ship without a sail
without a rudder

it could be your own making
or it could be because there are stars
there are lines of your palms
the maps of your
being
the destiny of your future

it could be because of your genes
the choice is still yours

are you made? or are you the maker?
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  9198.     

It Could Have Been Any Other Hour. But It Isn't

2: 52 p.m.

it could have been any other hour.
but it isn't. When you open this page of
a book, you will say. ' i do not see any
relevance'
but it is.
when you open another page, you will
comment, ' is this guy serious? is he not
just gallivanting in the sentences of
his life? Does he not have other productive
endeavors, one which may change this
world of lies? '

this the hour of the breaking,
somewhere an ice is cracked, put in a glass
and it gives a clinking sound of
relaxing music

and out there beyond your hold a man
takes the glass of cold water,
drinks it like a shot of whiskey,
feels the joy of the sliding pleasure
in his thorax,

just that simple gesture of the hour
given to him as he goes back to his
work again,

between life and death.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  9199.     

It Could Have Been Simpler

it could have been simpler
like a leaf falling to the air and then
taken somewhere
where our eyes are too tired to see,

it could have taken lesser words to describe
the feelings
without so much expense from our hearts
not taking much of our time
towards contemplation

but it is not that way, not that easy really
to meet someone like you and spend the whole night with
on a burst of emotions
on a flame of so much heat from the fire
in our bellies
from the cinders found in our pelvic bones

when we wish to forget such a pleasant feeling
we cannot just spit it out like a form of waste
no, this sweetest thing between us
sticks like a red stain in our skin
sweet blood to our taste as vampires
lovers and strangers
like some kind of monsoon wind passing by
without leaving some marks on the white sands.

i still remember but how i wish i can forget.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  9200.     

It Does Not Live In Your House You Cannot Imagine It

you have never found beauty
never will you ever put it in your hand and
claim it as yours alone
it is fan with many hands
a traveler in all lands scattered in every
nook in every unknown directions
it does not live in your house
you cannot imagine it
as numbers and solutions
when it comes you gaze at it
the first time you see it
you feel it
and you know that it is
and no matter how you grasp it
in some residences
it is never staying
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA