As If This Was Dessert
Acquaintances they had,
With an assortment of personas known!
No one grew to know identities true.
A superficiality was all they shared.
All they dared and knew!
And this was accepted,
As a form of acknowledgement.
Handed done through generations...
Even those related,
Had no depth of who they were.
Or cared what that depth to them had meant!
With a self destruction taught,
And applied with skill...
They adopted missions,
To ruin themselves with disrespect...
An accomplishment met at will!
And when they realized,
They were killing their own kind?
In their minds they were too far gone...
And blind to the fact,
They were ending their bloodlines!
With each child slapped,
By an ignorant stance that held them back!
And destroyed the ones who sacrificed,
To keep them nourished with a love of self...
They severely did lack.
They despised the ones who told them that.
They were not raised to praise themselves.
Nor kept a pride they encouraged to flourish!
Discouragement was their prize.
Enjoying acts of scandal and slander!
Lies!
As if this was dessert,
To serve to those attacked...
Demoralized,
And criticized!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Too Blind To Recognize
Too blind to recognize.
No one really knew,
Who they saw on a regular basis.
And this was not encouraged,
To be expected to accept.
Yet discussing other people,
Was what they did best.
Too blind to recognize.
Too blind to recognize.
Disrespecting was all they knew.
And this they did with a full effect.
No one knew who did what.
Or who had experiences to share,
That would provide benefits all would get.
So no one saw to see to receive opportunities,
They would meet but too blind to recognize.
Too blind to recognize,
Gifts given as a prize!
Gifts given they should pride.
Too blind to recognize,
Gifts given as a prize!
Gifts given they should pride.
Just too blind to recognize.
Just too blind to recognize.
Just too blind to recognize...
Gifts given as a prize!
Gifts given they should pride.
Too blind to recognize.
Just too blind to recognize.
Too blind to recognize.
Just too blind to recognize...
Gifts given as a prize!
Gifts given they should pride.
Too blind to recognize.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No One Gets The Prize
(nickolas ashford/valerie simpson)
No one, no one gets the prize
No one, no one
No one gets the prize
We were best of friends
It all began
He came in to town and changed the plan
I knew she felt, the same as me
Which one of us would it be
Just in fun, fight begun
Before long a web of hate was spun
She pretended same as me
Oh, but friends again wed never be
No one, no one gets the prize
She told him lies, and I told him lies
No one, no one gets the prize
She schemed and dreamed and told him dirt
That I was wrong for him
I told him all the boys shed hurt and I would number them
He was the ray of light that made our hearts live
But either one of us knew really how to give
So we scandalized and criticized
And then we learned how to despise
No one, no one gets the prize
She told him lies and I lied, I lied yeah
No one, no one gets the prize
No, no, no
Yeah, yeah
Back off
Tried to steal him, tried to steal him
Tried to steal him
Runnin behind my back
Tried to steal him
Tried to show him where it was at
Watch it now
No, no I wont take second place
No, no tell him to his face
We were friends for so, so, so long
Messed around, now hes gone gone gone gone
No one, no one gets the prize
No, no
No one, no one gets the prize
I wasnt alive, a love thats satisfied
No one, no one gets the prize
It wasnt fair, the love I couldnt share
No one, no one gets the prize
No, no
No one, no one gets the prize
No one, no one gets the prize
She lied, I lied, we lied
No one, no one
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death By Gossip
It is amazing.
They have never spoken
To the people they slander.
They don't even know them...
Or have sat to chat in discussion.
Some are related.
Although that means very little.
They weren't raised to build one another up.
They were encouraged to belittle.
And damage their own!
This has been known and shown.
These childish minds have never grown.
They are left alone.
Death by gossip and munching on ignorance.
Peering over fences.
And using lack of knowledge to offend,
As a defense.
Death by gossip,
And buried in jealousies.
This has been implanted...
To ensure this breeding would within them live,
And breathe.
They were encouraged to belittle.
And damage their own!
This has been known and shown.
These childish minds have never grown.
They are left alone.
With no input to keep a survival thriving!
Slowly dieing on lies.
Since this has been inflicted with ambition.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Quick of Lip and Short of Thought
Destroyed by appearances.
And values on the surface...
That have no depth.
A quality of life has been sacrificed.
Devisive measures have assisted the blight.
There are still those bickering over racists insights.
And their ignorance has expedited conflicts biting...
Further into poisons to bring them all demise!
Since the foundation that supports their allegations,
Is in need of desperate repair...
And has cracked with wounds!
Everywhere!
Leaving hatred and bitterness,
To sink their luxurious ship!
Exposing themselves...
To be quick of lip and short of thought!
And agreeably their own worse enemy.
Nourished on 'mad cow' and polluted pretense...
That justifies this nonsense,
With an applied nonstop ignorance!
That seems more and more a way of life accepted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What a World
What kind of world is this
This world I call my own
Were even a young child
Is afraid of going home
A world in which a man
Will take innocence from a child
Now their lives are lived in fear
The memories going wild
What kind of world is this
This world I call my own
Where you'll only be accepted
If your a f***ing clone
A world so full of s***
A world so full of lies
Can you spot the liars?
Can you see it in their eyes?
A world where self expression
Is pushed and made to fall
Despised and destroyed
To boost the egos of them all
A world where daddys hit
A world where mommys scream
Both killing their children
Killing their hopes killing their dreams
A world that makes you crazy
But does that make me insane?
A world thats without morals
A world thats without shame
A world that seems so dark
A world that seems so cold
A world that kills the young
A world that scars the old
A world that kills our hopes
Shoots them out of the sky
A world that kills us all
And makes us want to die.
poem by Jocelynn Halbauer
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To Who's Benefit Is It
Lies lived,
Throughout decades and generations...
Of them being heard or told to listen.
Does not make them come true.
If fact,
Truth is traumatic and does not come to empathize,
A hiding.
Truth when it is accepted opens eyes wide.
To comprehend and not defend,
The creation of myths devalued.
Once lies lived have been uncovered for what that is...
Holding grudges and bitterness may be done.
But to who's benefit is it,
To insist lies told still exist when none of them,
Bought, sold or can be held like jello...
Can be connected to anything solid.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Be Encouraged
If you know who it is you are...
The best disguise will not hide you.
Let others masquerade,
With those of false charades.
Those images they have adopted,
Will be dropped.
Leaving them to discover,
Even they do not know who they are.
They have lost their own identities,
In pretentions
That do not nourish, flourish or feed!
If you know who it is you are...
Be encouraged!
You are among the few!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Is the Kind of Life
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
We are born to believe,
What is fed to us.
This 'feeding' is received...
And what is perceived,
We with others retrieve with like minds!
Preferring to find those of the same kind,
With like 'experiences' shared without fear!
And fear keeps us all indoctrinated to accept doubt!
Isn't that what marketing peace is about?
With the realization it will never be found...
As we rely on the production of conflict and confusion,
To always be identified!
Knowing that as well as we do.
And hoping this in our lives stays around!
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
And is kept alive to thrive...
In comfort zones,
Until the day we die!
Leaving those who defy these 'truths'...
Spilling their guts out in confession booths.
Or squeezing themselves to sit in pews...
As they listen to hypocrites from pulpits preach,
To leech on minds already screwed and confused!
And this is the kind of life,
We all have come to love!
Listening to teachings,
That 'demons' from hell have no wings...
Allowing to be demoralized on Sunday,
Learning more about the devil...
As we hear these 'disciples' sing!
And this is the kind of life,
We all have come to love!
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Power of Prayer
I shared with someone I cared.
And immediately I was told,
My caring was obsolete.
I was told I didn't have to.
I knew then my mind was ill spent.
I didn't have to take it back.
I just let it fade away.
I knew where my caring came from.
They believed it could be salvaged.
As if it could be traded for something better.
Like an upgrade.
Of course they had no idea the power of prayer.
And that's where my caring for them had meant.
But some folks wish not to be that connected.
And who am I to argue with that kind of ego?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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On This Thanksgiving Day (Estella Fused)
Estella fused,
Her love for family...
With wishes.
On this Thanksgiving Day.
She'd pray for those fighting wars
Within the core of bloodlines shared,
And those who dared to march for freedom
On foreign lands where they cared to sacrifice.
Requesting those who sat in observance,
To join hearts and hands...
Enticing all to stand and nourish their minds
With peace!
Estella fused,
Her love for family with wishes.
And on this day her dishes were prepared well!
She wanted them to feast like the royalty they were!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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All Over the Place
They've allowed innuendo to grow.
Slander to meander.
Petty gossip to pop up!
Nosiness to remain top on their lists.
And questionable 'christian' values,
To determine 'how' to acknowledge themselves.
And no one has an identity they show...
Or can say they 'know' to pride!
Apparently that has been sacrificed
For the right to express indignities...
With a disrespect shown and owned.
'WHERE are you going with 'this'? '
I am not going anywhere with it!
In fact...
This crap is all over the place!
And I can't get it off my welcome mat!
Even with the use of tact!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Manifesting a Connection Made With Sincerity
There were plenty of opportunities,
For us then to communicate.
I even mentioned how important that was.
And you stated how you had no need for that attention.
I did.
Since I could not have any relationship...
Without a chemistry of participation in it.
And you believed,
All you had to do was go through the motions.
There were plenty of opportunities,
For us then to communicate.
I even mentioned how important that was.
And you stated how you had no need for that attention.
I hope you have not remained that ignorant.
And success means much more to you today...
Than a paycheck you eventually give away,
Making attempts to impress that happiness means...
Addressing the best of superficiality there is.
I hope you have not remained that ignorant.
And have adopted something of depth...
That cries to thrive in your soul.
Something you feel alive that touches you...
Deep,
And manifesting a connection made...
With sincerity.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This They Wish to Insist
Please tell me this isn't true?
No one takes pride in being ignorant!
Submersed in those ignorant things they say and do.
Do they knowingly accept,
An incorrectness they perfect?
And if they do,
How far will they get?
When already they display,
Such a stupidness in disarray.
Please tell me this isn't true?
No one takes pride in being ignorant,
Submersed in those ignorant things they say and do.
And if this is true...
That deadend ahead is no accident?
It was an intention meant?
To experience what?
And to enlighten who?
If fools can be this wise...
Wouldn't it have been more feasible,
To spend less on clown makeup...
And have done the same thing,
To produce efforts...
More collectively economized?
Or...
Do they feel,
Those who 'are' wise should be taught lessons?
And this they wish to insist,
They are the ones better qualified...
With no one to argue how they go about it.
And being in disguise,
Allows them to go effectively undetected!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Love Lies In Ruin
love lies in ruin
love lies in ruin
love lies in ruin
love lies in ruin
leave if you want
if you can decide
leave if you believe in paradise
and stay if you must
if you'll trust my highs
stay, never leave, never go
my love lies in ruin
and better still my heart has ceased to care for anyone
you want to seize her
then tell her that you love her so
testify to all that i have ever felt for this girl
so walk on the wing
on the faith of desire
walk thru this place
as if your own
and leave as a friend
as a will that won't bend
leave as you would again
thru all the seasons
that i lived, i know i'm exiled
i testify to all that i had ever felt
as a child
my love lies in ruin
my love lies in ruin
to all i denied
i resist and i cursed
to all let me say
thank you so
for love is my way
is the path i choose
for love ever young may i feel
my love lies in ruin
my love lies in ruin
my love lies in ruin
my love lies in ruin
song performed by by Zwan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Arrives
He arrives,
To apply a different tactic.
And at His will.
You may not notice this at first,
By the way it was achieved.
With a quiet precisioned skill!
You have been accustomed,
To seeing life from one dimension.
From a point of view,
With an indoctrination pursued.
And His intention although not mentioned,
Is to shatter all limitations too!
He arrives,
In your heart, soul and mind.
And once your eyes have been opened wide,
You will realized the depth of those lies told to you.
Why and the reason...
They were fed to control everything done you do!
He arrives,
To gift you with the truth.
With an absoluteness you can not refuse.
Since He is the One that comes who can do this.
The only One to get a detoxing done.
The One who introduces the kind of truth that stuns.
He arrives,
And those conditioned,
To hiding behind their lies...
Find themselves without protection,
Into shelters after a run.
Or tongues to twist,
A truth for all to see that exists!
He arrives,
No need to prepare with prayer.
He arrives and when He comes...
You wont see Him,
But you will know He is there.
His eyes are upon you...everywhere!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What Kind of Monsters
The Billings a Family who adopted twelve children and had four natural children were murdered, many of the adopted Children are severely delayed and it is believed that at least three of the Children saw what happened.
What kind of monster
Strips that kind of love from
A Child?
What kind of monster
Does something so
Heinous
To a family who opened
Up home and heart.
I wonder what kind of monster
Takes the security of a loving
Family away
From Children
Who need love?
What kind of monster?
I really can not even begin
To say/
Copyright Michelle R Kidwell
July.13.09
7: 17 P.M PST
poem by Michelle Kidwell
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Proud to Have Themselves Treated Like Children
Of course they have depicted me as a fool.
Wouldn't you...
If I came along to infect,
A collective ignorance the others project!
I give them credit for putting that label on me early.
I had always been a maverick.
And accused of not being down to Earth.
You know the kind...
Blind by accomplishments,
That provoked and stirred.
You know the kind...
Proud and dignified.
From the ghetto but bestowed with self worth.
You know the kind...
Trying to be somebody,
When those around me...
Were satisfied to be clowns and jerks!
Enacting sterotypical images,
Without self motivation.
Or identities to exert!
You know the kind...
Those who complain about their lives.
And proud to have themselves,
Treated like children.
And disrespected like dirt!
Of course they have depicted me as a fool.
Wouldn't you...
If I came along to infect,
A collective ignorance the others project!
Look around you!
Those that are accepted...
Have neglected themselves.
And are totally conditioned to live fenced in!
Undisciplined with no respect.
For themselves or anyone else!
As they are taught to appreciated their own neglect!
And this is what they believe,
Are their true identities they wish to perceive!
Fed to them as they crave and eat!
And skillfully done...
With a purpose to ignore,
A welcomed self defeat.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lenexa Baptist Church = A Good Woman's Love
A good woman’s love and sympathetic heart
Are still the most valuable blessings of life.
She becomes our friend, lover, mother and partner
When we treasure, provide and love her as our wife.
Women never forget all we do and say
They recall visions of us both present and past.
We must eagerly communicate the depth of our love
If we wish our relationship to flourish and last.
A good woman’s love can withstand a lifetime
When we pledge our support and thoughts to serve her.
We must conduct ourselves with patience and prayer
For our happiness to stay mutual, everlasting and sure.
All Heavens heroes had their need for love
And were greatly affected by its presence or loss.
A good woman’s love is best of the rest
When nourished with servitude regardless of cost.
Early Works - What Is The Depth Of A Man
What is the depth of a man,
what makes him courageous
in front of mortal fears
or walk straight and tall
when his eyes are blinded with tears?
What is the depth of a man
what gives him the spark
deep in his heart
to do good
when only evil surrounds him.
What is the depth of a man
that can’t be conquered
is it the love of a woman
is it loyalty
or is it the belief that each man should be free.
What is the depth of a man?
Date unknown, probably late 1960’s
poem by David Harris
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On the Lower Level
On the lower level,
Squinting eyes sour...
Behind disguising masks.
Worn by those refusing to remove them.
A task they have not mastered.
Even though the light dims!
Any that was kept once,
And stored within.
On the lower level,
A feeding of darkness
Continues to flourish.
A nourishment encouraged fails,
To purge them.
Weaknesses begun...
Left many to seige a seething,
As natural as the breathing process is done.
They pray to be released,
But cease to eliminate the increasing anger.
They creep upon themselves like beasts.
Leaving hearts mangled to dangle like bait...
For awaiting vultures.
Enslaved by their own rusting culture.
Distributed like mulch,
To advance the growth of weeds!
Estranged from the guidance of angels and 'spirits'.
A depth is reflected but no one goes near it.
A fear is suspected and it's rejected quick.
The fumes of addiction has settled in too thick!
They are sick...
And many seem to enjoy dwelling upon this,
As it sits.
No one wants it to leave...
They are pleased with it!
If it hinted to go and quit...
Their own throats they would split!
Enlightenment is attacked.
Strapped to lies and innuendo!
And closing the window to a truth held back,
Ready to be exposed!
But it has been frozen and concealed in traps.
Bolted unconsciously to pain and sorrow.
Whatever light is left...
Suddenly fades and goes out!
Screams and shouts are heard.
And those who grew patient to listen,
Were not deterred by the disturbance...
Blurted to blur!
They knew from 'within'...
'Something' came to awaken them,
From the shallowness of ignorance,
They could not let begin!
As they were lifted from the lower level...
Deciding to shovel their way,
Into a light that did not betray them!
Finding in time...
Those of like minds,
Welcoming to share light!
In abundance that excited.
A brightness not expressed...
And much supressed,
On the lower level!
Where temptations and distress,
Are mixed by those who pass their blessings!
Confined to concrete limitations expressed.
In the hopes to deliver themselves from bleeding!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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