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Music Must Change

Deep in the back of my mind is an unrealized sound
Deep in the back of my mind is an unrealized sound
Every feeling I get from the street says it soon could be found
Every feeling I get from the street says it soon could be found
When I hear the cold lies of the pusher, I know it exists
When I hear the cold lies of the pusher, I know it exists
Its confirmed in the eyes of the kids, emphasized with their fists
Its confirmed in the eyes of the kids, emphasized with their fists
But the high has to rise from the low
But the high has to rise from the low
Like volcanoes explode through the snow
Like volcanoes explode through the snow
The mosquitos sting brings a dream
The mosquitos sting brings a dream
But the poisons derange
But the poisons derange
The music must change
The music must change
For were chewing a bone
For were chewing a bone

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song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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About The Sparrow In The Park

that there was once a sparrow
in the park
Papa and I never had the
time seeing it
we did not spend time
together
sitting in the park
viewing a sparrow in front of us
i never had the chance
asking him about the sparrow
neither did he.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Flower For Love And Painting

i am the flower
which dreamt to be..
a sparrow
to see herself
when she dreamt..
to be a sparrow
crossing the time
and the place
to prevent her dream
of being..
a sparrow
and be a flower
deams of nothing
but being a flower
for love..
and painting.

poem by Ahmed Khaled
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A Sparrow In My Mind Is Enough For Me

i do not need two or more sparrows to know what a song
of that sparrow is all about
more sparrows become a crowd and i cannot figure out the intent
of the song
the notes blur like a mist that i erase from the side of the glass window
i do not need a living sparrow
for i do not wish to capture one and choke it inside the cage of my hands
i only need the most freeing sparrow inside my mind
the one that i can erase if i do not need it anymore
without inflicting any pain without holding any feather any longer.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mother Sparrow Leaves Not Carrying Anything

the mother sparrow does not
know about a funeral
how can it hold a white flower
entertain meaning
using its black, short beak?

today, her young sparrow
lies dead
shattered wings, severed feathers
the worker-ants are sensing the scent of blood
the delicacy of sparrow meat
and now carry them all toward their
queen
underground

there is no memory for mother sparrows
there is no son
the fledgling is gone, gone

then she flies far away

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Modern Myth

Rests a sparrow at my balcony
And looks for her destiny in the top corner ventilator.
Her look looks an enquiry to me
And I reply her as in a theatre:

“I dare not envision thy destiny
Coz Destiny himself has been lamenting
For the road not taken!

I would certainly have been a prophet
But it’s not because of destiny that I am on the road I am on
But because Certainty has shaken! ! ”

The sparrow twists her head as in total confusion
And flutters away, and
I add to my poem:

'I am sure as I call thou a sparrow
Coz Nature has evolved you to flutter the way you flutter
Or because has She mistaken? '

poem by Atul Pokharel
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Willy-Wag and Sparrow

Willy-wag and Sparrow
sat on a stone.
Said Willy, it's cold
when the sun is gone.

But my heart beats hot
in my white silk breast;
time enough later
for me to rest.

Said Sparrow, It's dark
in the green willow,
and the cat may lurk
in the shade below.

He fluffed his feathers
and shook his head;
by now the others
are safe in bed.

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poem by Nancy Fotheringham Cato
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Noon time- Sunday

we sit on a television cable
hanging vertically
down the roof of a four floor
apartment building,
she, me and the male house sparrow
with whites around the eyes.

from there we watch the stray dog
eating the left-over chapathi
fed by an old greed fed up with food,
three crows wait
for the mongrel to finish
his portion of the meal,

all of them are dressed in adequacy,
the furry dog,
crows in black tatters,
the male sparrow softness of whose feathers
wring my envy drip,

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poem by Saranyan Bee
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Give Way

I know a man from Lancashire
who had a horse and cart for hire.
The horse was old but the cart is strong,
somehow together they didn't belong.

When they became one there was a change,
Ears went up, whip in the tail, snap the riegns.
They came to a bridge, it looked a little weak
As they crossed, it hobbled, tapped and creaked.

The wooden bridge was small and norrow
not to long, but only room for one to pass.
Towards them flapped a little brown sparrow,
horse thinks, no way he's makin me into an ass.

The old horse snorted and put his head down,
nothing would stop them getting to town.
Said the horse: ' no one's gettin in my way'
Then the little sparrow flew up, got out the way.

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poem by David Darbyshire
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Pedro, Pablo and Little José

I have spent an hour
lying in the sun
on Joe Brickle's farm
waiting for Pedro and Pablo
to fetch Little José

with his sickle and scythe
to cut down the high grass
so Pedro and Pablo
can gun their mowers
over the cowlicks.

After Joe Brickle died
the grass on his farm
soared to the sky.
His goats ate it all
till his son flew home

and trucked all the goats
to the slaughterhouse.

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poem by Donal Mahoney
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