We're both accustomed to being the center of attention. We're both accustomed to being spoiled by the people around us. And we don't expect to have to compete with somebody for all of that.
quote by Jim Lampley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Slipping of Meet Notes
Accustomed to lies.
What does the truth really mean?
Accustomed to lies laying low on the scene!
Accustomed to tell them...
And protect when told.
Accustomed to lies,
Whether fresh released or old held on hold!
Accustomed to lies...
Without a bat of an eyelash moving!
Accustomed to lies.
Dishonesty is accepted and shown.
At the work place
Where the slipping of meet notes,
Does not provoke disdain.
Accustomed to lies...
And that's how our lives remain!
In heated sex away from home!
Regardless of who spies on another,
Both buffer their suffering by what's condoned.
Accustomed to lies...
And what is taught is always known!
Accustomed to lies.
Accustomed to holding on to them,
Until time flys!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Their Closest Relatives
People hypnotized and transfixed,
Have grown more accustomed
To their movie productions.
And those creative emotional TV shows.
So accustomed to myths,
People are.
And the praying to what is believed,
To what has been embedded
In their minds,
Exists.
People do not wish to be told,
About the thought process of Nature.
And how that goes.
Or about Earth and Mother Nature.
The relationship between them.
How that works and what they know.
People wish and desire to accept,
They are more powerful
Than that which 'allowed' them life,
And gave to them breath.
People reject with a dismissing of this,
That which gifted them and permitted their lives.
People have grown more accustomed,
To their movie productions.
And those creative emotional TV shows.
Yet,
Give zero respect to their closest relatives.
The Sun, The Moon
And how together,
They affect their lives lived here on Earth.
People have chosen to become accustomed,
To ignoring as if they do not hear or listen.
Or are aware of them with comprehension.
People choose not to accept this as is.
People choose to believe from that which exist,
They are not born from it.
People choose for themselves to believe,
For them
There is no connection to perceive.
Even though what is they can not conceive,
Flows through their veins and bleeds!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Revealed To Make Known
What are you doing?
You can't do that.
'What do you mean,
What am I doing?
I am holding myself accountable,
For my own actions.'
But...
What about the people?
'What about the people? '
What will they do now?
They are accustomed to finding fault.
And blaming with accusations,
Those who normally deny any participation...
In creating to initiate forward movements they have made.
What do you expect me to say to them?
Since now I find myself in a unique situation.
'Say something like...
You people are plucking on my last nerve.'
But then they will turn on me,
Because they will feel offended by the message.
'Great!
Now you know why others are reluctant,
To take the responsibility to become messengers.
And think of it this way...
You will not have to question,
Whether or not you have gotten their undivided attention.
People do not keep that a secret,
To be revealed to make known.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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She went as quiet as the Dew
149
She went as quiet as the Dew
From an Accustomed flower.
Not like the Dew, did she return
At the Accustomed hour!
She dropt as softly as a star
From out my summer's Eve—
Less skillful than Le Verriere
It's sorer to believe!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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So Accustomed To This
Accustomed we are,
To cheapness.
With a fakeness that glistens.
And being on knees to plead,
For a decent existence.
Accustomed we are,
To reach with a seeking.
Although deceived by theories idealized,
To keep our delusions fresh...
And kept alive as standards long rusted.
So accustomed to this,
We are...
Caught up in despising any realist,
Found to be painting scenes...
Pictured as observed.
And yet seen but felt demeans,
With exaggerated caricatures...
Depicting realities lived as they are.
But denied.
With a feeling that leaves those believing,
How appalled they are to be this openly offended.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Understood To Exclude Them From Truths
When one gets too accustomed,
To embellishing what they've done...
Partial truths are told.
To bestow as shown to everyone.
Quick to betray,
If their insecurities are threatened.
But yet to display,
Are their excuses made with few exceptions.
Associations with people like this,
Over time decreases in respect.
Explanations of their neglect...
Eventually from them some should expect.
When one gets too accustomed,
To embellishing what they've done...
Partial truths are told.
To bestow as shown to everyone.
Maturity is dismissed,
In the minds of people with this addiction.
And it is unfortunate they allow themselves...
To be chased away by delusions.
With a praying done their delusions will stay,
To be understood to exclude them...
From truths they painfully detest.
And hate to face from day to day.
As a life lived in reality eventually fades.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The prison accustomed
I came out of prison
After twelve year term
To find the world a prison.
The hell accustomed
Is preferred to the heaven
Yet to be accustomed.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Stress and ease do not last.
Suffering, once accustomed to, is no longer so.
Beauty, once accustomed to, is no longer so.
Both yield the contrary in due course.
18.02.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Accustomed
Sometimes we see things
day in and day out
that we get so accustomed
to them always being there,
that when they go missing
we still think they are there.
It is only when something else happens,
that we suddenly realise,
that it is not there,
leaving us scratching our heads
wondering where and when
it had disappeared.
Our brain gets accustomed to seeing things
and it takes a while for it to register
when some things have gone.
poem by David Harris
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The Obvious Child
Im accustomed to a smooth ride
Or maybe Im a dog whos lost its bite
I dont expect to be treated like a fool no more
I dont expect to sleep through the night
Some people say a lies a lies a lie
But I say why
Why deny the obvious child?
Why deny the obvious child?
And in remembering a road sign
I am remembering a girl when I was young
And we said these songs are true
These days are ours
These tears are free
And hey
The cross is in the ballpark
The cross is in the ballpark
We had a lot of fun
We had a lot of money
We had a little son and we thought wed call him sonny
Sonny gets married and moves away
Sonny has a baby and bills to pay
Sonny gets sunnier
Day by day by day by day
Ive been waking up at sunrise
Ive been following the light across my room
I watch the night receive the room of my day
Some people say the sky is just the sky
But I say
Why deny the obvious child?
Why deny the obvious child?
Sonny sits by his window and thinks to himself
How its strange that some rooms are like cages
Sonnys yearbook from high school
Is down from the shelf
And he idly thumbs through the pages
Some have died
Some have fled from themselves
Or struggled from here to get there
Sonny wanders beyond his interior walls
Runs his hand through his thinning brown hair
Well Im accustomed to a smoother ride
Maybe Im a dog thats lost his bite
I dont expect to be treated like a fool no more
I dont expect to sleep the night
Some people say a lie is just a lie
But I say the cross is in the ballpark
Why deny the obvious child?
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marriages stay
His wife cooks for him.
He is accustomed to it.
His wife sleeps with him.
He is accustomed to it.
Replacement is not easy.
Replacement is costly too.
Children are the bolts.
Thus marriages manage to stay.
29.01.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Easy To Do And Even Easier To Leave
I 'had' been accustomed to being treated,
As if I were a fool.
That's why today it is easy for me to manuever,
Around and through...
Those obstacles set,
On my path to upset my direction.
Derogatory comments made,
By those with tongues out to degrade integrities...
Is nothing new in my environment.
I was raised to witness it...
In my early impressionable development days.
And learned very quickly,
How to make steps and not expect praise.
I've seen those with the best of intentions,
Destroyed by innuendo.
Even though they were...
Champions of good deeds.
And having seen this as examples,
Of what people can do to themselves...
I've found my own contributions,
Easy to do and even easier to leave.
Regardless of what I did to annoy or please.
I 'had' been accustomed to being treated,
As if I were a fool.
That's why today it is easy for me to manuever,
Around and through...
Those obstacles set,
On my path to upset my direction.
Knowing God makes the final,
Inspection of my attempts.
'Why does that dude love to be dragged through the mud? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Minds of Those Like These
The escalation of a hatred,
By those accustomed to doing it...
Produces for them great sorrow.
And on borrowed time,
They proceed to show themselves...
Out of their minds with a choice to grieve.
Incredible.
Incredible...
Wh at people know.
What people know..
And find it,
Hard to believe.
And,
Incredible.
Incredible...
What people know.
What people know...
And find it,
Hard to conceive.
Self seekers enforcing to impose their will,
For the purpose to fulfill...
The prophesy of their demise.
So unwise are they who do not pay attention.
So unwise are they who do not listen!
As they forge ahead,
In disbelief of what has been 'envisioned'.
Or comprehend words to them said.
As they forge ahead,
Strickened by positions...
That restrict their minds to limited conditions.
Incredible.
Incredible...What people know.
What people know..
And find it,
Hard to believe.
And,
Incredible.
Incredible...
What people know.
What people know...
And find it,
Hard to conceive.
The escalation of a hatred,
By those accustomed to doing it...
Produces for them great sorrow.
And no tomorrows come to those,
Making attempts to dethrone and dispose...
Of truth and the existence of it,
Because they refuse to 'see'.
Instead of reacting emotionally,
To rapid revelations.
Programmed and delivered by the 'Deities'.
Incredible.
Incredible...
What people know.
What people know..
And find it,
Hard to believe.
And,
Incredible.
Incredible...
What people know.
What people know...
And find it,
Hard to conceive.
It is hard to believe,
How people live and they deceive!
It is hard to believe people who seek no remedy.
Incredible.
Incredible...
The minds of those like these.
Incredible.
Incredible...
The minds of those like these.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ending Of The Feast
How can one tell a people,
Accustomed to feasting...
The ending of the feast,
Approaches with the upcoming dawn?
And a living done 'within' their means,
Is in their future.
With no credit cards to own.
With a parking of their cars.
And a healthier way of life...
Showing a more discipline with fitness,
Shown.
Because all of their loan days,
With debits will be gone.
How can one tell a people,
Accustomed to feasting...
The ending of the feast,
Approaches with the upcoming dawn?
And they,
Will live on!
Or wont.
A change they can believe in.
With a reality to clearly breathe,
Comes.
And the singing of 'We Shall Overcome'
Will just be another song to sing.
As a process begins...
To fulfill a communal socialism,
On the horizon.
On the scene.
How can one tell a people,
Accustomed to feasting...
The ending of the feast,
Approaches with the upcoming dawn?
And they,
Will live on!
Or wont.
Leaving those humble and meek,
To inherit the Earth.
'Why so evil, dark and gloomy?
You're evil to wish that upon us! '
SNAP out of it!
The amusement park is closed!
I reference the Bible!
What...
Or should I say,
'WHO' supplies your observations?
And...
I'm evil?
Why?
Would it be because I do not cling,
Onto 'your' delusions?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Spoiled and Accustomed to Laziness
It is easy to pass judgement.
And easier still,
To impose upon someone else...
For something delivered from the kitchen.
So as not to disturb a self importance.
Spoiled and accustomed to laziness.
And hopefully the right amount of mayo,
Will not create an argument.
Or need for a prolong debate on who 'waits' on who.
And why such actions are allowed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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With Hopes of Romanticizing a Condition
They have become accustomed to failure...
They can not let it go.
They've become identified with it.
And that is wished to be bestowed.
They dig through archives,
Seeking that which worked.
Something from the past...
They believe is everlasting.
Something done by someone then,
To bring their current frustrations to an end.
With hopes of romanticizing a condition...
That will lift them out of the doldrums they are in!
Complete with nostalgic delusions.
But they have become accustomed to failure...
They can not let it go.
They want someone with experience,
To show them the way.
And has it not been those with experience...
That has led them to despair?
Although they wish another point of view...
They want to chose one that will keep them there.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Shells Cracked
So accustomed to opposing,
That which is formally addressed...
And yet,
Nothing from those who do this is proposed...
To compare or express with submitted suggestions.
So accustomed to opposing,
That which is formally addressed...
And yet,
Nothing from those who do this is proposed...
Except,
More nuts they show with their shells cracked.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Out of Step
It is not what is said that makes people miserable.
It is ignoring what has been said...
And paying the consequences!
There is no dance partner,
For one accustomed to foxtrots
The jitterbug and tangos...
In a ballroom full of those waltzing!
Being out of step,
Will surely attract attention and regret!
The competitors these days...
Are light on their feet!
And expected to glide with the rhythm.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Good Morning Dear
Mickey newbury
Were the nights any sweeter
The mornings any cooler, when she was here?
Or was the mind grown accustomed to hearing good morning dear?
Should I still feel all the sunshine
That remembering brings to mind with my thoughts of her?
Lord, we both know things could never be the way they were
Her little girl illusions
Built the wall of confusion between right and wrong
That stands between her and the dream I had cherished so long
Now faded and tattered, once all that mattered when she was here
And a mind grown accustomed to hearing good morning dear
Were the nights any sweeter
The mornings any cooler, when she was here?
Or was the mind grown accustomed to hearing good morning dear?
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've been accustomed to being famous and having a certain level of attention for 14 years, but in the last few months, it's changed. It's like on the arcade game, I've gone up to the next level.
quote by Kylie Minogue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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