A Joke Oversold When Told
Choosing with a selection,
Those they dislike.
For reasons immaturity decides to react,
To childish perceptions.
That are carried in their minds most of their lives,
To bring to the doers turmoil and grief.
With fixed beliefs,
Their calls to unite in a unity...
Are more considered as a joke oversold when told,
Each time they choose to disregard their previous actions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Not One To Encourage A Response, However...
People in hiding,
With beliefs their unspoken intentions...
'Should' be understood.
Are finding themselves,
Alone with their misguided perceptions.
And there is just too much evidence,
That immaturity accepted to nourish...
Flourishes the environment,
With the presence of too many latrent fools...
Doing the best they can to escape,
From the accountability of their actions.
And people blame the children,
For the boisterous disrespect and ignorance.
I am not one to encourage a response,
However...
Can the minds of today,
Address the depth of a shallowness expressed.
And accept this as a reflection of themselves...
As if to take pride in the reality of their social dysfunctions.
And pretend this existence is clear and free of normalcy.
I am not one to encourage a response,
However...
Hasn't it been time that those delusional find,
Truth in themselves...
As a gift and nothing one has to fear!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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An Interlude We Are Doing In The Sharing Of Our Perceptions
Name 'one' time,
I disagreed with your beliefs.
Name...
If you can,
That one time...
I went ahead with a disrespecting done,
Of what you said.
'Just last week,
You told me my faith was bogus.
And two weeks before that...
You told me I wasted time,
Trying to find comraderie amongst those,
Obviously hypocrites who deceived with their lies.
A month ago,
You said to me...'
Wait just one minute!
Name 'one' time,
I disagreed with your beliefs.
Name...
If you can,
That one time...
I went ahead with a disrespecting done,
Of what you said.
I said 'one' time!
You are just like the others.
Always trying to find fault.
And I am not like that at all.
I did NOT disagree with your beliefs.
You misunderstood my observations given...
As opinions.
And I merely made strong recommendations,
With suggestions you should take.
I am never one to be opinionated!
You see...
That's how people misinterpret,
Innocently exchanged communication.
'So what is it that we are sharing now? '
An interlude we are doing in the sharing of perceptions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Thought Of This As part Of A Normalness
Unrecognizable by the doers,
But their actions to discourage happiness...
In their attacks of it,
Shows.
An addiction that should sicken,
Doesn't for those who crave.
Generations have been 'fixed' on hate.
And this is apparent to leave little debate.
Unrecognizable by the doers,
But their actions to discourage happiness...
In their attacks of it,
Shows.
And thought of this as part of a normalness,
Are the children of this exposed...
Wherever those children grow,
To influence by teaching what it is they know!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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They Dislike Themselves
They dislike each other.
Ask them!
They will admit they do.
Ask them the reason...
And they will have not one clue.
Unless disliking someone,
Based on what is believed one thinks...
The other thinks.
The other feels.
The other does.
And what another one says!
That may or may not be honest or real.
Purely something done,
That has been based on speculation!
To ruin and destroy.
As if to reflect one's environment...
And its degradation.
Like choosing a slot machine at a casino.
Because it may display pictures of diamonds or stars,
On the turning wheels.
And avoiding it if the appearance does not appeal.
And making decisions by how one feels...
Not investigated at all.
That would take the time of a mature mind.
Need I say more?
They dislike each other,
Some say they hate.
Because something told that was not true.
By some who instigate.
They also dislike themselves as well.
Since they've been told they should!
And they do.
Need I say more?
Hopefully this isn't you.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One's Beliefs
Beliefs aren't changed overnight,
Because of misdirection.
Beliefs are changed overnight,
When new ones are created.
Misdirection can be debated,
For reasons to entertain those who make changes.
But one's beliefs as they are...
Are only fed to keep them out of the way.
And kept faithfully attached,
For purposes to serve!
Not to discuss what are facts.
Beliefs aren't changed overnight,
Because of misdirection.
Beliefs are changed overnight,
When new ones are created.
Like one's knowledge of facts...
Depends on who is being pleased.
And for what reasons they've been directed,
To go first down on their knees,
Hoping to find their minds comforted.
And...
Beliefs,
As they are interpreted to be.
Aren't changed overnight,
Because of misdirection.
Beliefs are changed overnight,
When new ones are created.
To please and comfort the converted
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Agitate A Childish Game
Sometimes I am tempted,
To agitate a childish game...
That has been played.
Just to feel and see it done...
To throw it back in someone's face.
But games played like that,
Have long passed their attraction.
Although so many are caught up in them...
With an immaturity that seeks as shown,
An act played like that would offer a satisfaction.
Sometimes I am tempted,
To agitate a childish game...
That has been played.
Just to feel and see it done...
To throw it back in someone's face.
And everyday I witness,
Immature adults with childish minds.
Complaining to others about who they don't like.
With a waste of time whining,
Hoping to 'hook up' with a like mind.
Everyday I seem to witness,
More children who should be adults.
More who have not discovered responsibility.
Or an accountability that brings to them concrete results.
And everyday I witness,
Immature adults with childish minds.
Complaining to others about who they don't like.
With a waste of time whining,
Hoping to 'hook up' with a like mind.
Sometimes I am tempted,
To agitate a childish game...
That has been played.
Just to feel and see it done...
To throw it back in someone's face.
But games played like that,
Have long passed their attraction.
Although so many are caught up in them...
With an immaturity that seeks as shown,
An act played like that would offer a satisfaction.
And as I pass such activities,
I feel blessed to have aged gracefully.
Although I grit my teeth...
Wanting to find a reason and purpose,
To respond to an ignorance...
I do my best,
Not to acknowledge...
With a reaction given that would please.
Thank You, Thank You, Thank You...
Farther.
For the gritting of my teeth,
And the keeping of my peace!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fantasies Oversold When Told
Fantasies oversold when told,
Have a tendency to be difficult to re-tell...
With bits and pieces of truth injected.
A clinching to them begins.
And people become offended...
When storylines being changed,
Affect what they accept...
Has been 'common' sense.
Or different versions of them...
Are suddenly making appearances,
To convince.
Fantasies oversold when told,
Start to crack foundations...
That are molded in isolation.
And divisions of faith,
Begin with to subdivide.
And people are afraid to call fantasies lies.
The marketing of them has been too fantastic.
The ridding of them would be too drastic.
And minds confused will seek higher doses...
Of an assortment of medications once illegal,
Now obtain in beverages that attract children...
Quick to be addict to products with cute names.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Eyes Betrayed
Eyes trained to look away,
With beliefs that which remains...
From them one day will vanish to fade...
Are eyes betrayed.
And generations will pass,
With perceptions the grass is greener...
On the other side of a fence,
Eyes staying fixed on it...
Hope someday will be theirs to get,
If they did nothing but sat to sit...
Fixed.
While allowing the weeds in their fields,
To grow...
With a doing of nothing about it!
And generations will pass,
With perceptions the grass is greener...
On the other side of a fence,
Eyes staying fixed on it...
Hope someday will be theirs to get.
And...
Those eyes trained to look away,
With beliefs that which remains...
From them one day will vanish to fade...
Are eyes betrayed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In The World Of Adulthood
Those remaining,
In the playing of their silly games...
In a sustained immaturity,
Find themselves wishing to undo...
What it is they have done they do,
Once to them it has been acknowledged...
Those remaining,
In the playing of their silly games...
In a sustained immaturity,
Have lost all credibility...
In the world of adulthood,
Where children dressed 'as' adults...
Are not allowed to impress,
With a childish foolishness to be accepted.
'Comeon!
You can't take a joke? '
~I use to accept fools with a suffering done...
Of their antics too.
At one time.
But a seriousness of my life,
And in my mind...
Seemed to have overnight,
Risen to the top of my priority list.
And adults who are mature,
Are the only folks I wish to deal with.
And they today appear difficult to find.
Call it...
A plateau of maturity reached.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stop, Choosing to Demean
You've got your meaning,
And still you are choosing to demean...
My love?
Ya gotcha meaning,
But-cha choosing to demean.
Ya gotcha meaning,
But-cha choosing to demean.
Ya gotcha meaning,
But-cha choosing to demean.
Baby!
I gotcha meaning that demeans,
What I say.
And why it is I feel this way.
You're choosing to demean,
How I pray.
For us...
With faith and love,
Everyday!
Baby!
You're choosing to demean.
I see,
You're choosing to demean.
My compassion,
You're choosing to demean.
And..
My strong beliefs.
Yo, Baby!
You're choosing to demean.
I see,
You're choosing to demean.
My compassion,
You're choosing to demean.
And..
My love for you so deep.
But, you choose to be so mean.
And baby...
Stop, choosing to demean.
Baby!
Stop, choosing to demean.
Yo' baby!
Stop, choosing to demean.
Yo' baby!
Stop, choosing to demean.
Yo' baby,
You mated!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Weeding Through Those To Rid
There will always be issues,
Among those insecure enough to have them.
Always there will be,
Those who put themselves in positions...
To monitor beliefs.
With a weeding through those to rid,
While some considered valued for sweetness...
Promoted as the favorite ones to keep.
And there will be people,
To misunderstand themselves to be...
More than human beings.
With an intervention done into the lives of others,
Without a feeling of empathy.
Or a sign of any emotion shown,
Because they've been annointed to remove...
All aspects of one's dignity with a choosing as they please.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hate And Dislike
Hate and dislike are not the same thing between them the difference is great
We well may not like everybody but our dislike should not give way to hate
For hatred leads people to bad crimes since hatred as a feeling is very intense
The feeling of hatred is noxious and is poison to common sense.
Some commit murder due to hatred and than murder there is no worse a crime
Their hatred has landed them in prison for to serve a lengthy span of jail time
Their life it is ruined forever and darkness envelopes their soul
Suppose that is what's bound to happen when hatred is out of control.
Hate and dislike are two different creatures and though dislike to hatred can grow
Hate in it has got far more venom those who hate mercy will not show
Whilst those who dislike you may not harm you at least not in a physical way
And if you asked me to choose between them I would choose dislike any day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Those of Childish Minds
Those of childish minds,
I had to sever and leave behind.
They no longer fed my views of life.
I had been hatched from adolescence,
Many years ago...
With an expanding insight.
Rehashing redundant deeds done I did...
I could no longer validate,
Those actions of adults that reminded me of kids!
I began to feel imprisoned,
By this useless activity for me I could not envision.
That began to smother my mental growth...
And its clarity,
Beginning to feel remote and provoked.
I had to sever and leave behind,
Those of childish minds.
They found routine attractive to them.
And within me routine was not meant to be.
I am an adult!
And others who are...
Is a rare find today by far.
Leaving me to wonder,
As my aging process flows...
How gracefully can those grow old?
And where do those of childish minds go,
When an age upon them obviously shows!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Theories of Beliefs
False information to spread intentionally,
On those unwittingly being honest with themselves...
And with others they come to socialize in exchanging chats,
Calls for an immediate and total communication shutdown.
A stopping of that.
Causing the culprits doing this,
To find their own integrities picked apart.
Quicker than the lies they told to sensationalize,
Their own lives.
With theories of beliefs they add to what has been said.
It is best to get off a hot stove,
Than to remain sitting on it...
Perceiving a controlling of the heat,
Is kept discreet.
Which is an impossibility with small minds around.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Kept In The Worshipping Of Fear
I see no benefits delivered,
To those doers of misdeeds and evil.
Followers a plenty they may have to boast!
But there is nothing they have done,
To laugh and/or joke about.
Those who have turned a blind eye,
To allow this sleaze to slither...
While dancing to the beat and 'weeding',
Have made this investment for their children.
With dividends to rhythmically stay high as a goal.
I see no benefits delivered,
To those doers of misdeeds and evil.
Followers a plenty they may have to boast!
But there is nothing they have done,
To laugh and/or joke about.
And those who have remained on their knees,
Praying to be released from this reality they've created...
Without knowing to 'whom' or 'what' they pray to,
Have brought into their own lives their own set of demons.
To ensure they are kept in the worshipping of fear.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Freedom Of Choice
There are many who are forced,
To do those things they dislike.
And many who experience...
The act of sacrifice.
There are many amongst the few,
Who do not have options...
To choose like others do.
With a refusing that which is not wished.
And it seems those without choices,
To experience what they 'must' go through...
Are those who become challenged,
By the ones who live lives limited and confused.
And...
Those who belabor in their sacrifices done.
Often are the ones spending very little time,
Wondering what it is that is liked or disliked.
Or those reasons why.
Since a freedom of choice to them eventually comes,
With a presentation acknowledging their efforts made.
For a job that has been chosen,
As the one well done deserving.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Unfolding Process
Those actions will leave our lives better off?
Those actions...
Will leave,
Our lives...
Better off?
And you are serious when you believe that?
Do you hear the echo of that cough?
How about the thunderous winds,
That bring destruction with them?
Does anything about global warming make sense?
Has your awareness been completely absent?
Do you know there are more than two million inmates,
In prison cells?
Do you realize detention camps are being built
For hundreds of thousands...
Perhaps millions of humans to dwell?
And you believe warring factions overseas...
Will leave our lives better off?
Perhaps you are right!
Because you have proven your mind has not been 'on'!
And living lives better 'off'
Did not have to take conflicts to do it!
So many have been living lives better 'off' for decades.
They are not going to be the problem!
It will be those turning 'on' to what is happening,
That will create the greatest civil disturbance...
And that seems to be planned,
As a slow unfolding process!
'Where are you getting this from? '
I am My Father's son!
Whenever My Father's gaze is fixed upon something,
You know I'm going to look in that direction?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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All That Which is Around
Isn't that something,
Those believe.
A life that includes diversity,
They can do without.
And still succeed.
Even though diversity,
Is all that which is around.
There are those who choose to ignore it,
With a hope a tunneled vision.
Will become a way of life,
Mother Nature decides.
Is more beneficial to provide.
And those choosing their lives,
Without diversity to surround.
Would have a better quality of life.
If 'She' removed hers from the ground.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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That Joke to Some
That joke told and thought funny by some...
No longer brings with it smirks.
Or the half smiles on faces.
A seriousness upon them lurks.
And they wonder...
From where the echoed laughter comes,
Surrounding their startled hearts.
The sound of it frightens.
And unfamiliar to anyone!
Has something once done to undermine...
Discovered it was them all this time?
Finding it a thrill to haunt their minds,
This time.
Someone amongst them has elected to stun!
Someone victimized by their tactics...
And missed with them to have their fun.
And that joke told and thought once funny by some?
Seems to now only satisify just one...
Who masquerades in a vengeance of delight.
Knowing their misdeeds done then...
Keeps them in cold sweats in taunted sleepless nights.
Fearing 'what' or 'who' has found whatever they did offensive.
They have forgotten which joke had been told.
And which 'fool' they picked...
They believed then had been defenseless!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Backward Move These Minds
Sad are those who have isolated themselves,
With beliefs that religion and politics do not mix.
When conflicts fought are because of this.
Sad are those symbolized by myths!
Fixed and tied with lives centered upon it!
And refusing to see beyond their self destructiveness.
Backward move these minds and behind the times.
Like a knocked eightball that drops...
To stop a game that's played.
By someone who has been mocked...
But comes to shock without delay.
Backward move these minds and behind the times.
With wishes to have a game prolonged and sustained.
Sad are those symbolized by myths!
Fixed and tied with lives centered upon it!
And refusing to see beyond their self destructiveness.
Sad are those who have isolated themselves,
With beliefs that religion and politics do not mix.
When conflicts fought are because of this.
Backward move these minds and behind the times.
Like a knocked eightball that drops...
To stop a game that's played.
By someone who has been mocked...
But comes to shock without delay.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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