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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA  9/17/2014 8:34:17 PM
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  RIC S. BASTASA
 
 
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  11565.     

That Will Be The Last Reunion

i assure myself, i was lost,
in that reunion, their faces are no longer the same
their noses are elongated
and their words are
smelling like
dead fish their vision about us float like stinging jellyfish

the world has changed a lot, old friends are tied
to broken families
ex-girlfriends have become wild grasses in the forests
nothing and no one is as tamed as that old closeness
that knows
what sympathy was all about
the perfume of empathy
is lost in the air of indifference
nothing good spreads there

i listen a lot and i have heard what i must vomit
everything ends at ten o'clock in the evening
and then i flag a taxi
that takes me to a hotel which shows me the bareness of luxury
and style
i do not stop from there
i have to go somewhere else to appease what boils within
the rage of too much
expectations that fail

perhaps at eleven o'clock a bottle of rhum
while watching a comedy show of transvestites and clowns
something too far
and farce.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  11566.     

That Window Which Is Half Open

HE

is still excited by the scent
of an orange peel
diffusing inside a candle-lit
room

SHE

has unbuttoned her
blouse
unzipped her shorts
and sets aside the orange
rolling on the
floor

They

like it here
all alone in their secret
whispers

a tryst of youth and
escapism

The

moon is the uninvited peeping
tom by that window which is half
open.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  11567.     

that woman

that woman, when did she ever learn
not to slap you again?

she will never tell you when she will stop.
and you have always been compliant
a christian

as soon as she is finished slapping your right cheek
you soon ready the left cheek and you give her all the joy
of her sadism.

you are not the masochist.you are my wife.
and i am teaching you that her reign is over.

my hands have touched your cheeks and healed the bruise
the pain that seeps down to the layers of your skin
to the years of your burden

let me touch them again like i am a leaf to a whorled vine
i have the cure
this love of mine

i have these fingers that can unlock the reason of your
pain.
let me open the door for you. let me close it
away from that witch
let the white dove
fly finally to the skies

look at me. now my dear wife
you are free!
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  11568.     

That you, by myself, be always worshiped.

I might be unfair
if i say
that God has been deaf
to all my pleas.

For last night and in the
last crucial seven days of my life
he saved me from the harms
that my self could have
inflicted upon itself: those sleepless eyes
the tumults inside the mind,
the uprising of the acids
inside my intestines
the whirling of the thoughts
the storms of the past
the tornadoes of hasty judgments
and all those sorts for which if you try looking at it from
a distance
you definitely have lost control of.

There was that Hand that keeps on guiding
and holding and caressing
even in my sleep even if i do not remember anymore
what happened.

There was that breath that was not mine anymore.
That soothing that came from without
That comfort which i do not know from where
Which i guess, i may call now as
Heaven.

Whatever i am, and wherever I'd been
This early morning, i bow before you Oh Lord

Thank you Very Much. Thy name be forever Praised.
That you, by myself, be always worshiped.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA