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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA  5/22/2015 5:07:49 PM
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  RIC S. BASTASA
 
 
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  10797.     

Peroration To A Friend Who Is Finally Free

i have always wanted
to write this
but i feel sorry for myself
always forgetting
it at the end
of my usual work

a busy day

i am reminded of you
as you explained yourself to me
at the third floor
of the academe

beyond us a row of trees
a path filled with stones to solve a flood
there were no birds
it was late in the afternoon and
the sun was slowly setting giving us
the feeling of
a fading day

the one that makes us feel the
crawling of age in our foreheads
we are not getting any younger
i told you

you are busy enumerating what
happened
what you love most and how this loved most thing
rejected you

you roam the city at night
living life in the arms of darkness that does not really care
what happens
afterward

you love the toilet
you want to make it your home

i am surprised with
this kind of revelation
but somehow i am having hints

and the surprise
slowed down like a car
about to arrive at its
parking area

you reminded me of things that really delight the senses
the tickling feathers of the armpit

of times that must set us free like prisoners
in the desert where we are so thirsty of
rain
that does not arrive as
expected

so we content ourselves with the moon at night
and some
dreams of oasis
and palm trees and
black Bedouins
and big and tall horses
of an Arab king

we spill the sands in our
fingers
and breathe
the scent of jasmine
and dates

i do not wish to get away from this thing
that i have long wanted to write

for the simple purpose of informing you
that i do not work
on happy thoughts anymore

i do not target happiness like a dart to a
red dot

i do not bet on some lotto numbers
i do not dream getting to be a millionaire one day

hitting the jackpot is no longer
my cup of tea

i learned this: those that delight us do not make us
healthy most of the times

after a taste of the dropp of the sap from the
forbidden tree
or its fruit
which is so attractive in its
red ripeness,

you begin to weaken
to the poison of
a momentary desire

oh, it is so temporary if you
accept it


there were many times, and i always remember them
when i close my eyes
after midnight
when we are so exhausted about the search
that pursuit of
happiness

when as an
afterthought
i begin to settle for the quadrants and numbers

i have been mathematical in my approach to life
in fact
more legalistic about it

what is sweet to the tongue eventually
ruins the teeth

what tickles the heart wounds it a bit

sometimes in fact
seriously that you think you cannot recover from pain

you waddle in misery like
a buffalo to a pool of mud

now i am into the codes of existence
that laws are made purposely to give us the guide to the right path

it is not the pleasure
principle that works

it is the gaze into what is good
and right and just

though it may be
so bitter
but it remains to be
so beautiful
in fact

i have not told you everything yet
and i do not wish that you understand this
but i must tell you

i have chosen my own time and place
and i am happy

you may tell me i am not myself
that this is not my rightful place

i live here and i am going to defend it
you go where desire
where your heart takes you
you are free, you brag about your freedom

let me know how freedom
defends you
how your heart falls into
boredom sometimes
and changes like
the seasons of this
earth

(you should have known that freedom is a responsibility
a choice that you make in the oceans of choices
and that is where pains are most self-inflicted

know, that your choices may not at all be right
because you are guided by your own emotions)

that is a matter of my personal opinion
i treasure it,
it is mine and
mine alone.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  10798.     

Perorations On Late Evening

i thought i have nothing to say anymore
it's because i have said much and someone who listens
must be pestered,

this man is saying nonsense, how come he has always something to say?
a to z, agitated to zipped.

i myself, am amazed
why i do not cease, where did all these parrots and monkeys come from?

am i simply parroting? am i not a monkey making noise?
what for?

there is a disturbance,
this sickness that is looking for a cure from words

i do not intend to make paper herons
thousands of them so i may recover
and be whole again

splinters, graffiti
a shower of tiny paper cuts
in different colors falling out from the 17th floor
mistaken as
a celebration from the passers-by

i always have something to say for as long as the words live
for when words are said, i continue living

smoke from the train, it always gives it the impression of motion
like the smoke from your mouth
those who see it are happy, ...you are still alive and
they can now sleep
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  10799.     

Perseverance

little flower with
deep blue petals
blooming
on white desert
sands
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  10800.     

Persona

this person
comes to the house
rings the bell
and opens the door

there is nudity on the face
that i see
something inside me boils
because there is fire
at my bottom

then this person tells me
something
that i already know

something light and does not
bother me (I think so)
there is nudity in the body
and when this person turns
so i can see the back
of the body

what i see are two dimples
that tonight bother me

i am struck
i am stirred
the potion finally works inside me
i am not in love
how can i ever be in love again

i am lustful
seeing those two dimples at the back
that leave me
awed at the beauty of the flesh
this sin this greed
unsaturated.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA