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Psycho Babble Scribble Squabble and Scrabble

Psycho Babble Scribble Squabble and Scrabble 6th syllable rhyme with P.s.
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First Stanza Syllable Rhyme 2nd StanzaLine
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Sands of time slip away while the same doldrums 1st & 11th 55
Wear at my emotions stored on the shelf next 2nd & 10th 54
There is Zen which releases our somatic 3rd & 9th 53
Stored energy rushing out freely flowing 4th & 8th 52
Activating dendrites dead in the body 5th & 7th 51
Maybe it was my bellicose veins which led 6th 50
To their death through my pet peeve ignorance no 5th & 7th 49
Excuse O'er the years the wreckage piled up 4th & 8th 48
Massive heaps of scrap were unstable yet stacked 3rd & 9th 47
They lay where they fell upon each other there 2nd & 10th 46
Matter of factually speaking 'tis more 1st & 11th 45
Construed through the fashion in which they're laid out 2nd & 10th 44
Junk yards where people roam as they please searching 3rd & 9th 43
Through cars which were once new now resting in ruin 4th & 8th 42
The sun beats down breezes play with old papers 5th & 7th 41
And a searcher must test the part that he needs 6th 40

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poem by Edwin Tanguma
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Pacific Trash Vortex (Triple Tetractys)

The rules for writing a tetractys are as follows:
Line 1 is one syllable syllable
Segment of speech usually consisting of a vowel with or without accompanying
consonant sounds (e.g., a, I, out, too, cap, snap, check) . A syllabic consonant,
like the final n sound in button and widen, also constitutes a syllable.
line 2 is two syllables; line 3 is three syllables; line 4 is four syllables;
and line 5, is ten syllables.
The fourth and fifth lines may rhyme or rime, the most prominent of the
literary artifices used in versification. Although it was used in ancient East
Asian poetry, rhyme was practically unknown to the ancient Greeks and Romans.
But this is not mandatory.

Waste
Sea green
Wavering
In slimy traps
In woozy circles
Gushing at the deep water horizon

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poem by Marieta Maglas
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The Impeccable...

each word is well chosen
it has a history and significance
each syllable is important
to build the empire
of his poem,

majestic now
people keep on reading
amazed and
awed
by the impeccable,

and yet for how long will this majesty
last?

only for once,
and then the reading is over
and no one talks about
the word, and the syllable is not even uttered

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hi... Bye...

hi

one syllable,
two letters, it makes the difference
of being here and
you being there,

hi

and i say hi too to you

crisp, too short, reserved,
as we both wonder what next to say
what is the possibility of
another letter, or word, or perhaps
an incomplete sentence will do the trick
of what that rest must follow...

hi.... and i fall short of meaning and i write...

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In Memoriam Paul Celan

Lay these words into the dead man's grave
next to the almonds and black cherries---
tiny skulls and flowering blood-drops, eyes,
and Thou, O bitterness that pillows his head.

Lay these words on the dead man's eyelids
like eyebrights, like medieval trumpet flowers
that will flourish, this time, in the shade.
Let the beheaded tulips glisten with rain.

Lay these words on his drowned eyelids
like coins or stars, ancillary eyes.
Canopy the swollen sky with sunspots
while thunder addresses the ground.

Syllable by syllable, clawed and handled,
the words have united in grief.
It is the ghostly hour of lamentation,
the void's turn, mournful and absolute.

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poem by Edward Hirsch
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The Words As Bridges...

in a true relationship
a word is a bridge that can connect
two distant cities,

it will take just a syllable to get to know
each other and cling like vines
on the trellis and give a flower
to the passers-by,

others have destroyed many bridges
with just one word, the harshest thing that can
happen to
syllables, like

saying bye. And it ends there like
a shadow of the
western movie against the sun
and then the curtains
fall

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Unraveling My Poem Unraveling My Life

you think you know me
every inch every color
since you have read
every poem i have written

you equate what i am
with what i have written

and your equation goes
through and through the lines
of logic like a telephone
pole connecting two islands

every sigh is learned
from every syllable of my lines
every yawn is discerned
from every sleepy letter that you
meet and see

are there no strangers there

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Single Syllable

Single syllable slowly penetrated. Rage
rejection harsh took time to register on brain
tormented, projecting resentment, sad refrain.
Anxieties snowballed. Unwilling to explain,
soul sought safety from public probe hurricane.
Abject private shame stressed search to disengage
from memory-trip, to strip surface masks, rampage
against injustice rank, which stank of inner pain.
Hurt heart hard lesson learned, would never try again
to share where trust betrayed from Time sought time to gain
a valid explanation, plausible, open, plain.
Life’s harsh experience ushered in a new age, -
an age of solitude. Sensitivity, in cage,
hung, drawn and quartered, mind withdrawn from contact vain,
osmosis empty dream, no leeway to obtain,
in limbo felt, could not a fair redressment gain.
Silently tears tumbled. One heard shunned love complain,
despondently to, with, shutters responding, page
helpless to turn, return, to lost oasis, gauge
a way clear from the pain, a way to rise again

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Ragas for Sleepy Bee

for Krishna, both of them, god, man

And so we began
the cooking lessons
the first demur approaches
the blushing papayas then
the fires the chilies harvested
curtains drawn

1

Dawn.

Slow him down.

He speaks
his accent thickly
richly Tamil

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poem by Warren Falcon
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Lounge

She was going with a cinematographer
Everyone knew that he was really a pornographer
They went down to the dance and grind
And everybody was feeling fine
She was talking with syllable lisp
And everybody she knew was gonna get the twist
And they all went down and did the porqupine
And everybody was feeling high
You are so hot
I would like to steal your digits
And I'm so hung up on it
I would like to
Move away from it
We are so caught up with things
We should pull eachother's triggers
And I'm off
She was going with a cinematographer
Everyone knew that he was really a pornographer
They went down to the dance and grind
And everybody was feeling fine

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song performed by Modest Mouse
Added by Lucian Velea
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