As If A Needed Must To Have Is Trusted
When one begins to establish a history
One's choice to be deceiving,
Does not mean those activities go unseen...
To be disbelieved.
When one begins to establish a history,
Misdeeds like these...
Clarifies one's identity.
Packaged within an unmistakable personality!
And why this is a mystery to one so obvious,
Can not be explained.
Even though a pattern has been created,
That maintains its sameness.
When one begins to establish a history
One's choice to be deceiving,
Does not mean those activities go unseen...
To be disbelieved.
And accepting environment,
Has a way of making anything tolerated!
Even one's disgust becomes tradition.
As if a needed must to have is trusted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
It Endures
Only that which has been examined to be labelled,
Begins to establish a documented history.
And the doing of it creates a repetitiveness,
The majority declares is a stability one can rely upon.
With a determining for them what is right and wrong.
Then there comes along,
Something that has not been labelled.
Something suspiciously different.
And something unfamiliar many fear that threatens.
Then a testing of it begins.
Not to ensure its acceptance but to guarantee its end.
It endures through attacks.
It endures with a fighting back.
It endures over the countless obstacles,
To amaze those who wish suddenly to know...
More of its existence with more identifiable facts.
And it seems when that has been adventured,
That which is not going to change...
Eventually teaches its own lessons.
And those who get them do!
And those who refuse to budge or move...
Remain confused as most people stubbornly choose,
When something they confront...
Is not going to change its own identity to please an ignorance.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Black History Month
In January...
There they are making history.
In February...
There they are making history.
In March...
There they are making history.
In April...
There they are making history.
In May...
There they are making history.
In June...
There they are making history.
In July...
There they are making history.
In August...
There they are making history.
In September...
There they are making history.
In October...
There they are making history.
In November...
There they are making history.
In December...
There they are making history.
But...
It's nice to know
The shortest month of the year
Was chosen to celebrate
The great deeds of African-Americans!
However...
It is those LEAP YEARS,
That really have the blacks jumping for joy!
Note: 'Black History Month' along with other
works of interest can be found in...
*'MindPrints from Untouched Places-VOL I'*
~Now available online at a PC near you~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Three Kinds of People
The books of my history
Begins with comedy
And end with tragedy
“Son”, do you know this
Spontaneous?
If you don’t know
Don’t mind
Your father will tell you.
There are three kinds of people
But the history knows only two
The first are foxy foxes
Who do right things and
Great good deeds
They stand at the top of history
The second are mad dogs
Who do wrong things and
Great evil deeds
They stand at the bottom of history
The third are piggy hyenas
Who are neither wise nor foolish?
Who cannot do right or wrong?
The history doesn’t know them
They have no chapter in history book
Can you choose among them for
Your inspiration and if you
Can heed my advice
The foxes are the best stars
To stick to.
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Lost identity.
Lost identity.
My dream as a child.
Became a passion in my youth.
To search for my identity.
And search for the truth.
I differentiated myself from every other mortal.
I differentiated myself for a subtle known cause.
To be the best amongst all of them.
And to prevent them not to know of my identity loss
The good that I achieved
Doesn’t seem to be no more
Or probably it wasn’t good enough
For my conscience to be sure
I was probably the most competitive
In an effort to establish my superiority
I’m still to reach that ultimate position
To re-establish my lost identity.
written by salma torrez. copyright
poem by Salma. Torrez
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Regarded As Frivolous
The ability to acquire and purchase things,
Should not be the impetus...
That begins to establish one's self esteem.
Or that which stimulates an incentive wished,
Should not be the catalyst...
That provokes with a teaching,
The reason why anyone seen...
Appears with a feeling to be successful,
With talents and 'gifts'.
Since an integrity gained to maintain,
May come from one's awakening...
To finally recognize one's identity.
And that's it.
Everything else one has and obtains,
Maybe regarded as frivolous.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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History is more or less bunk. It's tradition. We don't want tradition. We want to live in the present and the only history that is worth a tinker's damn is the history we made today.
quote by Henry Ford
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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History
Yesterday is History.
History brings us to this present moment
but it doesn't shape who we are at this present moment.
We can't let our History control us
and who we wish to be.
Our future is our choice,
Not History's.
poem by Tiana Webb
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History why do we care
History
a famous person dies
History
a war rages
History
a new invention
History
a building opens
History
what happens if something happens to me
is that history?
no....
So why do we care.....
poem by Andrea Thepoet
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You Became My History
You were once a mystery,
The one I loved to solve.
Deciphering your code,
Always got me lost.
I thought of understanding you more,
But before I realised it,
You became my history.
You were once a mystery,
Discovering you was a thrill,
Every puzzle I put together,
Granted me fulfilment,
But as time flew by,
you became my history.
You were once a mystery,
Every clue brought me closer,
Every step brought me nearer,
Only to make me smile,
I thrived on your addiction
But after a while,
You became my history.
You were once a mystery,
the very foundation that kept me stable,
Once I comprehended you, I began to feel able,
You were the ocean to my boat,
The cell to my system,
However, even without the distance,
You became my history.
You were once a mystery,
Clouded in question marks,
Trying to understand,
Trying to comprehend,
I was left with numerous thoughts,
The more I tried, the more I learnt,
The less I craved, and before I knew it,
You became my history.
poem by Zushan Hashmi
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No testimony is sufficient to establish a miracle, unless the testimony be of such a kind, that its falsehood would be more miraculous than the fact which it endeavors to establish.
quote by David Hume
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who does not see that the same authority which can establish Christianity, in exclusion of all other religions, may establish with the same ease any particular sect of Christians, in exclusion of all other sects
quote by James Madison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The History Teacher
Woman!
Where exactly
Did you put me
In the women's history?
Am I History?
Or a part of it?
And for how long you are lacking me in;
Between
Your History,
Women's History, and
Your archives?
Does time make sense to you
As a History teacher or
As a History professor?
Cause', History, buying time, and rejuvenation
Are for emperors.
Are you making me
An emperor?
Or a Faeroe?
If so,
How precise your are?
And if you can't feel my present presence
how possibility could you feel me through your archives?
poem by Atef Ayadi
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You're the bait...
New guilts, new anxieties
New pandoras, new trickeries
history seen, changed unseen
Play cat n mouse with me
You the cheese, me the mouse
Lets find the cat unseen
I eat you and play dead
We'd fool the cat unseen
But there's a problem,
The cat has caught us unseen...
02-04-2008
poem by by unknown author
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The making of an American begins at the point where he himself rejects all other ties, any other history, and himself adopts the vesture of his adopted land.
quote by James Baldwin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aint Gonna Cry
Well I hardly knew ya baby
And you were comin on
Mama told me thered be days like these
I shoulda known better maybe
Woulda seen right through ya
I needed you like a disease
I aint gonna cry over you
Youre a mystery
I aint gonna cry over you
Youre history - history
You said youd wait forever
But I know your type
The lights are on but no-ones home
I changed my number maybe
You better change your mind
Cause Id rather spend the night alone
I aint gonna cry over you
Youre a mystery
I aint gonna cry over you
Youre history - history
I aint gonna cry over you
Youre a misery
I aint gonna cry over you
Youre history
I aint your kinda guy
So forget about me
Cause I aint too shy to say what Im thinkin - hit it
I got reckless baby
Put you in your place
Next time maybe re-arrange your face
Chorus
song performed by by Bryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man In The Mirror...
mystery man, history man, dangerous man,
all that are man.
but one man sang,
mystery man,
this man sang,
thrilled the stage with his ways,
danced and raced with out any shame,
mystery man, history man, dangerous man.
He danced thrilling the world,
twirling across the world with his spin,
he with no twin
the world sang with this man,
he made history with history man,
god by his side, he who was never out of sight,
humble was this man, awards he had won,
healing is what he done.
mystery man, history man, dangerous man
his music were thrilling,
his lyrics were smoothing,
his dancing were surprisily healing.
this man who sang was the man in the mirror......
poem by Angel Diaz
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The one thing that the President can do is to establish a real energy independence plan. We have all the recources we need right here in this country to establish energy independence if we had the leadership.
quote by Herman Cain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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186,000 Miles A Second
Light begins from within
Light begins with a belief
Light begins when we see without sight
Light is simply electricity mixed with sincerity
Light can be humanly explained but inhumanely detained.
poem by Jeff Rushton
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The Opposite Begins
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
That one agitated,
Finds an exit and splits.
People known to create conflict,
Seek an attention they don't get...
Until,
The opposite begins.
Opposition steps in.
They pretend a trust to believe,
To have others perceive but...
The opposite begins,
For them.
Wake up and take notice,
That the opposite begins for them.
Those who charade innocence.
The opposite begins for them.
Those masking evil intent.
The opposite begins for them.
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
Well,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
And...
That one agitated,
Finds an exit and splits.
But then,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
That one who's had it,
Splits and runs into love...
To know the opposite begins,
When someone genuine comes in...
To view.
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
Well,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
And...
That one who's had it,
Splits and runs into love...
To know the opposite begins,
When someone genuine comes in...
To view.
They want it quick.
And...
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
To then see someone who genuinely fits,
Well...
The opposite begins pursued.
Oh yes it does.
An opposite begins pursued.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Backfire
It only begins to hurt those,
Who applied misdeeds...
'Now' feeling themselves bleeding.
It only begins to hurt...
When the dirt unearths,
To reveal a stinging pain.
It only begins then...
To remove the shadows,
They've cloaked themselves within.
It only begins to hurt those,
Who applied misdeeds...
Far worse than those,
They have manipulated and deceived!
And when pain is felt like that...
A haunting from it,
Will not relieve!
The suffering torments,
And from them does not leave!
Inflicting tragedies on others...
Backfires upon them relentlessly.
Exposing their darkened ways that crushes!
With a burden they bare eternally to carry.
And there is no escaping.
What has been wished upon others,
Without a consciousness...
Comes to arrest them as they attempt to sleep.
And 'that' they no longer can do successfully!
A backfire unexpected visits.
Mentally squeezing any comforts from them known.
Increasingly as they continue to breathe!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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