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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA  4/19/2015 2:06:23 PM
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  RIC S. BASTASA
 
 
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  13597.     

The Reasons

sometimes
tired of the buzzing of the word
he gives flesh to it

even wings
and so the bees
come

often
the words are empty like
a vacant room

or an abandoned
cottage in one of those
untamed forest

one can do
something as he does
after so many
experimentation

when words are just
wind or air or static space
he plants a tree
and leaves become
inhabitants

flowers arrive as buds
and butterflies
of variant colors
arrive as
colonies

must you remember
how the void is filled
with light and there was light

how the islands come
dotting the seas?

who likes a void, an empty space?
even God
dislikes it

we are here
because of that.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  13598.     

The Rebel In Our Own Bodies

there is a rebel
at the back of each one of us
always complaining

discontentment is this
backbone which can never be strong enough
to carry a burden
there is speech in every pore of the skin
talking about a hairy
revolution
about undressed geese
flying in the skies
mistaken as
ghosts

there is this hunchback
complete with a head and sharp eyes
without hands
and feet
it always speaks about the defects of
any system
predicting the eventual destruction of
anything that is
stable like some kind of pillars and
pavements
leading to the old churches
where icons are posted
like advertisements of a
box office movie

when we get tired
we resort to prayers
meanwhile hiding this rebel
with a red hood and we pretend as monks
walking in the streets
spreading forgiveness
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  13599.     

The Rebel...

he is tired imagining those villages of
yore, hamletted natives, authorities telling them
how to live, where, when,

that is the bitter part of the question
when do you cease living? the gun is telling everyone the answer
follow or you die,
not the natural way, they will kill you in an instant and bury you
the very same day, without the christian rituals,

he is tired of the running and the convincing,
taking the chickens of other people and passing through the seven
rivers,

he is tired of being numb
to the consequences of the uprising
his ears are painful
his arms are failing him

he wants to retrace his steps back to the fold
but he cannot return and the equation is simple and this he must
understand fully

no metaphors are needed for him to know
that the uprising is unnecessary
irrelevant
that he himself has become impertinent
but the harshest is this
he has become the most incompetent decor
of the system

discarded.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  13600.     

The Recent Fall Of Icarus

i was busy talking to you
about poetry and too sad
we did not bother listening
to the recent fall of Icarus

what i heard later was that
Icarus did not die

He is alive and so thankful
of his melted wax wings

the radar did not detect him
and so here he is knocking
at my door
asking for a little time
to be with us in this
safe house

it was his father who was shot
because he was
shouting.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA