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11797.
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the idea
you come surprisingly
and i am amazed about what you are
you are risky
and gives me the shivers
of the dangers that you are giving me
you are quick
to appear and too quickly you
disappear
you tell me that i must be prepared
to record you in memory
that i must have a paper and pen on hand
ready for the keeping
you are the idea
so much has been wasted
because i am raged with age
too lax
and lazy and
to time has become
a slave
bound for oblivion.
RIC S. BASTASA
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11798.
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the ideas shall always be coming...
for as long as the roses have thorns
as long as the fish bone is in the throat
butterflies inside the belly
worms under the feet
flies inside the bottle sealed
still wanting to breathe and still crazy
over life
RIC S. BASTASA
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11799.
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The Illogical Dream
it rains ash on the roof
all the residents hide in fear
and then it stops
a child climbs the roof
opens his mouth and lets his tongue
taste the ash
there is something inside it
the child calls his mother
saying it tastes like shrimps
and so all the people climb the house
stays on the roof and
had their feasts
that whole day when the sun
never shines.
RIC S. BASTASA
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11800.
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the illusions are here
if we trust what we see
that is normal because our eyes always assure us
about what is there in tri-dimension
and we smell what we see
we believe more on what the basic senses offer
we rest on these logical consequences
we even have to trust the structure of numbers
and how they work upon us
we take pride
something is true and something always works
with results, desired and exalted
we fall sometimes to lapses and we begin to ask
about causes, we dig deeper to failures and sometimes
we forget successes
we forget the beauty of having to discover
submitting ourselves more to the distress of failures
we elucidate more on errors
we lurk in depression
i have enough of these illusions
there are more reasons for a jubilation
there is a need for a priority jamming with joy
and creative celebration
i have decided to forget sadness
and set aside the quest for greatness
that has always been nothing but
a mess
these are nothing but peripheries and collateral
at the center of all these decorations is this mission,
this knowledge that this is but a journey that
i am a pilgrim, a steward, and i do not desire anything
i do not own any and i do not owe anybody at all
i have only dreams, and wishes
oh, they are not actually even mine at all.
RIC S. BASTASA
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