Best Bast Poems
A foundling's spurn, like fate's adjourn
that fills its being, with return
of life - thy will, be Godly yearn,
nor destitute, like drafting, stern.
To understand more, than to learn
some righteous band, but then not turn
to righteousness, in loving's earn,
compassion's carry over, serve.
I loved you, to embrace some nerve
that carried your fond need, your verve,
as helping, left some filled reserve
toward aptitude, thy time conserve.
Within you, but as faith, your own
as when a prayer but asks condone
and greets its answer, then alone,
I asked to love you, but unknown.
The bast that prologues at my name
to gather momentary strove,
would surely hold not fair acclaim,
and surely bear not, at my love!
We went to a Chinese restaurant, but couldn’t get a seat
The waiter found us a table, and said we were in for a treat.
A wedding party was booked, he said, we would join them
We decided to say yes, sat down and waited and then…
The waiters rushed out, the bride arrived, resplendent in a gown of white
A creation that was gorgeous, her tattooed shoulders caught the light
No groom was there by her side, just a pageboy and three bridesmaids
The page a little boy of five suddenly on his way he got waylaid…
A tank of fish by the door, amused the bored little boy
Especially when he threw his car in, it was his ‘must behave toy.’
The best man arrived; he saw the bride, he whispered in her studded ear
She banged the table with her fist, there was no doubt we all could hear.,,
"The ‘bast*** I am sick of him, and you are the one to blame
You should have stopped him getting drunk, god why did I take his name?
Get the kids off the floor, get that car out of the tank of fish?
When their father gets here, get them to bring the Chop Suey wedding dish…"
The groom arrived looking abashed, his tie slung over his shoulder
“Get these bloody kids controlled or they’ll not get very much older.”
The bride jumped up and raised her dress, not only her garter did we see
She raised her dainty black jack boot, and kicked him in the knee…
"They are your bloody kids you know, and if you don’t control them soon
I’m telling you right now- we are not going on our honeymoon."
By this time all of us began to thank, the waiters for finding us a seat
They had not been wrong when they told us, we were in for a wonderful treat...
A True Story
© ~GG~ 20/11/2012
A is for Ant (and for ass, your dad is an example of an ass)
B is for Bee (and for b*stard, your dad is a bast*rd - first class)
C is for Chicken (and for a word I don’t want to say - but see K)
D is for Dog (and also for Dynamite - which I’d like to shove up your dad’s... see A)
E is for Eagle (and for egotistical effing... see K... and C)
F is for Frog (and for Fu*ker, which your dad’s been doing with someone who isn’t me)
G is for Giraffe (and for Git - your dad is a Git... and he has two faces)
H is for Horse (and for Hard Up - which your dad was... in too many places)
I is for Insect (and for Insolvent, which thanks to me, he’ll soon be, with just one legal shove)
J is for Jellyfish (and Judas. Your Dad’s a Judas... with a rash from his illicit love)
K is for Kitten (and for making some words sound worse - see C)
L is for Lion (and Lobster, a creature with claws that belongs at the bottom of the sea - hmmm...)
M is for Mouse (and for machete and for manhood... which gives me an idea)
N is for Newt (and Nymphomaniac - neither should work at IKEA)
O is for Owl (and Optimistic, well, he thought that he left me fulfilled)
P is for Penguin (and for Philandering, at which your daddy is skilled)
Q is for Quail (and for Quickie, the best that your daddy could do)
R is for Rabbit (and Rampant - and once I got that, how did we get you?)
S is for Snail (and for Slug, which describes both your dad and his di*k)
T is for Tiger (and Torrid, your dad was this with some Randy chick)
U is for Unicorn (and Underhand, your dad was this night and day)
V is for Vole (and also VD, hence the rash that was listed in J)
W is for Worm (and for Merchant Banker, thats rhyming slang for your father)
X is for Xerus (and X-rated gel, I bet he’ll work up quite a lather)
Y is for Yak (and for Yesterday’s News, which is all your dad turns out to be
Z is for Zebra (and for Zeees, that his Nympho is catching, asleep next to me)
*
[Xerus is a genus of African ground squirrel]
"The Black Habit"
Bast never rests
claws sharp as scissors
The Black Habit
no natural skin
torn to shreds
with a cream filled kiss
Legs wrapped around a velvet lick
Perfume purrs in your ears
Like a Black Cat
Bast never rests
Like a Black Cat
Bast skirts your whiskers
Breezes over your lips
The Black Habit lifts
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
“Space Weaver”/Lisa Gerrard
https://youtu.be/TO25_qAq8xI
Alternative "Space Weaver"/Lisa Gerrard
https://youtu.be/WokkX5FOf14
“I want to fall in love in such a way,
that the mere sight of a man,
even a block away from me,
will shake and pierce me,
will weaken me,
and make me tremble and soften and melt.”
Anaïs Nin, Delta of Venus
The Labyrinth's Manifestation Spell
"Gravitate to Me"/The The
https://youtu.be/xgwx40iAdVQ
Lyrics:
https://genius.com/The-the-gravitate-to-me-lyrics
Tom Thumb, with split ears and abscess,
came to us on an autumn night.
A feline atlas with alley hard shoulders,
but a calm, cool warrior nonetheless.
Named for his Hemingway mittens,
an irony of bulk to literary lore,
for he surely would make a short meal
of a murine steed fit for a King’s jester.
His years of wrangling had earned him,
A craggy pelt of scars under a crooked halo,
all wrapped up in a ripe orange hirsute fleece.
There was something about that gnarled old pumpkin,
that found our hearts warm and happy to have him.
Though his life had been hard, he was quick to find
my Mother’s lap to be a very restful place.
Dear Tom spent the better part of a decade in our home.
The years of ease softened his shoulders,
and hastened his purr, though he still had *****.
The leaves of autumn learned to be weary of old Tom,
for he would shred on sight, the first leaf to fall.
As the years passed, the warmth of the sun,
found more often, Tom sitting with closed eyes,
enjoying the feel of his crimson fur.
Until an afternoon, late in the harvest season,
poor old Tom had been sick.
He sat proud in the sun for one last long sun bath,
warm as our hearts between his apricot strips.
Bast came for her brother the very next day,
to fetch him off to the land that never forgets.
“Fare-the-well dear Tom and may the autumn leaves,
suffer your claws for as long as the sun never sets.”
Remember the days of the past
When we felt safe and we felt dear,
Longing, hoping such times would last?
In our youth, we would run so fast
And things evil were never near.
Remember those days of the past?
Then, I never did know of caste,
Of despised ones, who lived in fear.
They never hoped such times would last.
Ignorance of their pain is vast,
But many of color, with tear,
Remember the days of now and past.
Still present, the sting of the bast.
Cries for justice, they pray we hear;
Longing, hoping it comes at last.
A blind eye we must never cast
Towards the hate that we must cure.
Remember the days of the past
So all can hope...at last...at last!
Broken Mind
Yes I am going insane, my mind is shattering like glass, my voices fight like every day and my thoughts are racing fast, I’m not real I am a myth, I’m a legend just like Bast, I’ll take off my shoes and socks, and walk barefoot in the grass. Digging deeper in my mind, I am tearing it in two, wish I knew what’s going on, but I haven’t got a clue, there is no way I can stop this, there is nothing I can do, I do not know what is false, I do not know what is true. I’m playing the game of Saw, yes my mind’s a giant trap, going crazy over here, yes I really need a slap, I am tired of these thoughts, so I get in bed and nap, I shall navigate my mind, but first I will need a map. Yes the layers of my mind, they begin to start to peel, yes my mind is made of copper, but my heart is made of steel, what is going on inside? I do not know what to feel, I do not know what is fake, I do not know what is real.
Bestowed bereavement, this condolence graft,
the memorabilia sequence, mine not draft
like some ongoing virtue, depth not classed,
forever love relinquish at the pass
the merriment not, but laughing, seal to last,
joy to eternal hoping, prithee to cast
my soul, not rent with sorrow
seams with bast . . .
The interlopers surrounded the old folk’s farmstead before dawn.
Farmer Jay wondered what planet they were now living on.
Their gravely gobbles were incessantly loud, it was a take over.
Farmer Jay’s hound dog was missing, his name was Leaf Clover.
What do they want? The missus asked her sweet husband Jay.
Not sure he said, but it does not look like a very good day.
Eat hamburgers and bacon at Thanksgiving was their soul-full yell.
They gobbled it all morning until the dinner bell.
Other demands were written down in blue and red ink.
By this time they had sold their farm to a young couple named Pink.
What about the turkeys? Are you taking them? The young owner asked.
They are your problem now, Farmer Jay said, picking up his statue of Bast.
Uncertainty breeding tolerance or default
that openness forever I exalt
my weakness, as new weakness, not assault,
would execute new justice by strength's lack?
So bridging some infirmity, take back
the homicidal structure of exact,
unknown to self the causing, still impact
all differences demeaning, all retract!
By stating my contention, not react
I clarify my purpose ~ in contrast.
So let me delve in empathy, Faith's last
and let me live in sympathy, my bast!
As still injustice learning, am aghast
by fortunes interacting, through War's path,
the flagrant guesswork erstwhile marring lathe',
I loosen my indemnity ~ God's wrath
is so determined judgment . . . . mine unclassed!
Short of help, but still of staff
the headache from the neck does last
the evenness of time in cache
lies dormant, so disbursed, abashed!
Though waiting, justice is enmassed
to some fond hill, its wearied bast
has tempered not the day's full cast
and sleeps in kinship, life's repast!
Forgiveness lacking, lacks in class
so metered to repeating's lash
like some huge wail, the wave's do splash
first beaten ~ then to mercies crass!
Deliverance of lieing's stake
the game goes on of win and take,
the overpowering of land's sake
do drink and drink its servile cask!
That greed and garrison of task
nor common sense can so express
the doing's done in overt haste,
this burgeoning of time erased!
That filtered sleeve of compromise
should pinch the air to realize,
we've done it, winnows out our eyes
while change redundant hypnotized ~
. . . becomes incumbent with the skies!
Parting my curtains that bright sunny morning
I took in the garden, my mood took a hit
My facial twitch surfaced again without warning
My lawn had acquired a nocturnal zit
They don’t stop at one: No, lots more were pending
An underground demon had just declared war
He’s munching my worms which needed defending
I’m having that critter... I’ve done it before
I picked out the nastiest, most evil trap
Designed to cast moley asunder
A trap meant to mangle that pointy nosed chap
... A trap that he simply dug under
I set a new trap filled with poison and worms
To kill him as soon as he found it
My wife tells me now that I’m King of the squirms
For that bloody mole went around it
I grabbed a big hammer and sat by a hole
A time to be patient... not slow
I was quick but inaccurate whacking that mole
And the hammer came down on my toe
I’m frantic, I’m livid, I’m limping around
To the shed where the tools were all put
Then, thrusting my garden fork into the ground
I stick it right through my good foot
I grabbed a grenade (which I googled and made)
I shoved it and crawled really fast
My lawn was destroyed like there’d been an air raid
I wasn’t quite clear of the blast
Two weeks have gone by and I’m head to toe plastered
My wife wears a mask against germs
She tells me we’ve still got that velvety bast*rd
And so she been buying it worms.
Bathe me then bring me home
to that inner sanctum,
rigid and strong,
where Bast is known to rest
in the purest of scents
of woman,
protecting sanctity
and the serenity
of a world gone by
hold me where amulets cast
and hands caress each night
bless me with your dance of life
slowly removing the seven veils
birthed in prodigious fertility
anoint the new and the old
let sunrise burn off the haze
where the bluest of blues have laid
lick the wounds of past
allow this light to last
Bast: https://www.crystalinks.com/bast.html
i sit back, and watch my life unravel, the only sound is, my feet on the gravel, my mind is so sharp, as sharp as a scalple, i walk alone, and thats how i travel. im running a race, but im coming in last, the reasons because, my feet arnt so fast, killing for fun, is a thing of the past, i got the idea, so im wearing a cast. i know i love cats, but no im not bast, after all that ive done, i cant believe i am sassed, my heart is just broken, not broken and brassed, i let down the anchor, and im thrown from the mast.
A wide awake snooze made me scream
Held me in the clutches of a well-earned dream.
An elephant in pajamas came running up fast.
He pushed me aside, and made the sign of a bast.
A wide awake snooze held me captive in my head.
I thrashed and I crashed,, and I fell out of the bed.
My dad yelled, "What's that?" But I could not open my eyes.
So I stayed on the floor, curled up with some left over fries.
My snooze was determined to keep my eyes solidly shut.
I fought her for awhile, but soon gave up in my gut.
She was much too strong for me, this wide away snooze.
So I envisioned myself a frog, deciding to stay off the booze.