As If to Impress
They can declare themselves geniuses.
And compare themselves to those suppressed.
They will strip a land of its resources,
To then profess how the inhabitants that are left...
Are distressed and disadvantaged.
As if to impress.
The can create conflicts and disturbances...
To say they can end them quick but don't.
They wish to have others see them,
As saviors on a mission.
But to fix anything with a healing to bring...
They wont.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Why Those Battles Between Them Persist Without End
I am not one to analyze or bring to judgement,
The misdeeds done by those now dead.
Or correct with facts those deceits done,
To shed bright light upon that which has been said.
There is nothing in it for me,
To declare a victory.
However,
I am one to speak from my own experiences...
About those implications that were fed to devastate.
And reason and causes of those effects,
That have left divisions needing mending...
From an implementing by those dead,
To have those they disliked...
Tossing without sleep in their beds at night.
A healing from wrongs to make them right,
Has to take place to stop needless fights.
And what is there to gain to maintain conflicts?
By the ones living unable to comprehend...
Why those battles between them persist without end.
I am not one to analyze or bring to judgement,
The misdeeds done by those now dead.
Or correct with facts those deceits done,
To shed bright light upon that which has been said.
There is nothing in it for me,
To declare a victory.
'Why are you fighting?
And what purpose does it serve? '
~Because it's...
Because it is a,
Well...
Because! ~
And there is absolutely nothing in it for you,
To continue blindly doing those things you do...
Because of tradition?
What is your definition of that tradition?
And those living to defend it?
Why can't you respond for a meaning of it to mention.
Or know where to begin.
Since many traditions held today...
Have proven to make little if any sense!
To declare what is your tradition?
To maintain one's right to remain ignorant?
'Lower your weapons.
I'm just asking you a question.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Seem Detached From Stress
I admit to feeling honored.
And also repeatedly blessed.
To have someone like you,
Make comments...
About those confessions I profess,
And express with an openness...
To seem detached from stress.
I am not always as secure,
As I seem when attempting to impress.
I just feel what I say comes from an honesty.
And being true to myself,
Sometimes has created my own loneliness...
That has left me with moments of distressed.
I admit to feeling honored.
And also repeatedly blessed.
To have someone like you,
Make comments...
About those confessions I profess,
That expresses an openness...
To seem detached from stress.
But I am not that different,
From those wishing more...
And not less,
Of those moments I regret...
To have a happiness,
That will leave me to be...
Feeling free to be at my best.
Without experiencing an aloneness,
Through what is felt at times...
An unwinding road confined,
To a wilderness...
That sits inside,
Of an inquisitive mind.
Traveling as it does without any sign of rest.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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IF I Was On A Mission To Impress
If my mission was to impress,
To effectively address a perceived ego...
Gone unidentified as an awareness.
With a labelling of being arrogant.
I certainly would not begin,
With a depiction of a forest others do not see...
Although walking through it to go unseen.
Nor would I mention with acknowledgment,
My familiarity with each kind of tree within it...
To call each one by name to express my respect for them.
If...
I 'was' on a mission to impress.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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F.M. Doll
Take my doll put on her pretty clothes
Now don't you soil her dress
Brush her hair, paint her lips like a rose
Cover up your mess
Strip baby strip 'cause your daddy is watching
Strip baby strip just for me
Strip baby strip show your mother knows nothing
Strip baby strip Just for me, oh
Someone say doctor is my friend
Bruising is his cause
Behind closing doors
Strip baby strip for the soul of your brother
Strip baby strip for his wife
Strip baby strip 'cause you know she's not willing
Strip baby strip by the knife, Yeah
I lost my doll, put on my pretty clothes
I wont soil my dress
I brush my hair, paint my lips like a rose
I cover up my mess
Strip baby strip for the soul of your mother
Strip baby strip for her life
Strip baby strip 'cause you know you're worth nothing
Strip baby strip by the knife
Strip baby strip 'cause your daddy is watching
Strip baby strip just for me
Strip baby strip 'cause you know you're worth nothing
Strip baby strip for me, oh yeah
song performed by by Queen Adreena
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Is The Satisfaction One Gets
Where is the satisfaction one gets...
To play hide and seek,
With lost folks?
Or tell ethnic jokes,
To invoke laughter...
At the expense of someone's struggles?
None of this makes any sense to me!
If people are seriously seeking harmony.
And how about those with insecurities?
Those who believe they have birthrights...
To enforce and endorse a superiority.
Only to profess their dependency on others.
Without the Sun and Moon,
Would this Earth exist?
Without temptations to market,
Would there be conflicts?
Without resources sitting on 'third' world lands...
Pillaged by those who live to make demands.
Where would they be without nature to feed them?
To hoard and isolate with treasures to pleasure...
While declaring a stolen standard of life,
As one sought after...
Because it is grand?
And measured against others,
Suppressed by their druthers!
To protect with weapons!
And deplete upon command!
Where is the satisfaction one gets...
To play hide and seek,
With lost folks?
Or tell ethnic jokes,
To invoke laughter...
At the expense of someone's struggles?
I think about this,
And the pitifulness of those thoughtless...
Who wish now to see themselves deprived.
While others they have stripped,
Are left in hunger and homelessness...
To do the best they can to survive!
None of this makes any sense to me!
If people are seriously seeking harmony.
And I wonder where humanity could be...
If folks did not nurture themselves,
To contrive in secret with priorities...
For the sole purpose,
To deceive, cheat and lie!
I think about this,
And the pitifulness of those thoughtless...
Who wish now to see themselves deprived.
While others they have stripped,
Are left in hunger and homelessness...
To do the best they can to survive!
And what will become of humanity...
When a higher consciousness arrives?
And all eyes are opened to realize,
Their falsely kept traditions...
Restricted to pointless conflicts,
Have finally come to an end and died!
Where is the satisfaction one gets...
Once it is revealed,
There IS a higher consciousness.
Soon to amend all foolishness!
With a lifting of those minds confined,
In a darkness from them removed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Enactments
Now that their feelings of betrayal...
And being disgruntled,
Have a rawness about it...
They believe there is a commonness,
Left to express those displeasures...
With those historically distressed.
Those they would normally regard as pests!
And that was just...
Yesterday!
With their duress confessed,
During these suppressed times...
They seem to quickly display,
A discomforting selfishness...
They wish would go away,
To unwind and leave behind.
Like keys left with the butler or maid.
If not for temporary and sentimental reasons!
When the times were good for them...
They would not be seen,
Appearing in daylight...
With 'those' disadvantaged on urban streets.
Exposing their faces on such scenes.
And rubbing shoulders,
With these 'underlings' they meet!
'These surroundings?
How gouache.
Tasteless.
And so unbecoming! '
They would have ignored them,
As not being among those blessed!
They would have compared their separateness...
By comparing acquired materialism,
That kept them feeling falsely blessed.
But somehow their current fellowship expressed,
Seems more like a pretentiousness hiding a desperation.
And spreading a shallow attempt,
To solicit empathy from those who can least afford it.
Those who know who 'they' are!
And why they have been kept by 'them' suppressed.
Those things they once had,
No longer provides the escape...
From their insecurities now exposed.
So they have 'chosen' to be amongst the poor.
To uplift a hollowness...
Left from a loneliness of an emptiness felt.
Somehow,
This can not be easily erased.
Or from them now to go ignored.
Or replaced...
As one awaits for delivered luggage,
To leave quickly a bad vacation.
Especially when faces of a different hue...
Reminds them of a racistness they inflicted,
And kept in place to subdue...
In brutal disrespect.
Who knew these times would be so stinging.
Leaving so many unprepared?
To unpack cares and fresh hints of concern.
Now 'they' appear as if in research...
Seeking a way to find a comfort.
One that is not as demeaning as seen,
Or vividly portrayed...
By those who seem professional,
Recreating enactments placed upon them...
To do that poverty 'thing'
Done so well!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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After They Have Been Fed
No duty calls,
To perpetuate an influx...
Of destruction released.
No power held that proclaims,
Itself to be of faithful deeds...
Treats to delight the rising of conflicts,
As a reason to declare...
The certainty of victory.
No one with a responsible consciousness,
Allows insecurities to persist...
To feed upon a selfishness,
With delicious expectations.
To 'then' profess regrets...
That a diminishing integrity,
Leaves them with nothing left...
But a preparation that accepts the worst of times.
Since,
It is in their minds...
The best of times that could be lived,
Has not risen on their priority list...
That still feeds a greeding need,
To experience peace...
After they have been fed their lust for battle.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Who's Living With That Mission?
Who here,
Lives to dance and sing?
Who here,
Lives to hear the birds singing?
And who here,
Lives their life just to give?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who here,
Wakes up to give a damn?
Who here,
Demands to give a helping hand?
And who here,
Knows that peace has a chance?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who here,
Thinks about their fellowman?
Who here,
Gives their neighbor understanding?
And who here,
Wants the bleeding done by man...
To end and please them?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who here,
Thinks about what is right?
Who here,
Wants to do that day and night?
And who here,
Prays conflicts and fights
Would end!
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who here,
Lives to dance and sing?
Who here,
Lives to hear the birds singing?
And who here,
Lives their life just to give?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
And who here,
Wants the bleeding done by man...
To end and please them?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that,
As ambition?
To live to give as a mission?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When You Last Visited
With the wearing of emblems and symbols,
To declare a faith and belief to profess...
They've been saved and they show this has been addressed.
And the many who do this believe they've been released,
From creating to initiate chaos and confusion...
In their minds they keep affirmed until the seeking is reached.
And the ones not affiliated,
To designate themselves followers of a denomination claimed...
Are often solicited with a nitpicking them into guilt and shame,
For expressing their choice to stay away from hypocrites...
Found to gather in numbers to congregate their hidden ills,
As if to pray away the decadence and filth within them instilled.
'But you can not have a true relationship with God,
If you keep yourself separated from the church.'
~I find that odd...
That a bird, tree, blade of grass or any animal I pass,
Seem to exist without conflict.
And those who sit with their issues and conflicts,
Are more disturbed but quick to defend...
A teaching of The Word they do not listen to comprehend.~
'You are a heathen and you are going straight to hell.'
~Gee!
That sounds frightening.
But tell me this since you are experienced.~
'What's that? '
~When you last visited,
Was it really as hot as you remembered it? ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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With a Sweeping Away of Deep Secret Weepings
When a pain is felt,
Until a numbness appears.
Who is best qualified...
To declare the depth,
Of the hurt felt dealt.
And the healing that nears,
Of the agony one alone has to clear.
Who better is best qualified,
To feel what that is...
And how that feels from inside?
Some unfeeling this,
Expect quick steps to get over it.
As if recovery from a sorrow,
Is borrowed.
To be clocked to stop at midnight.
Not to go on beyond tomorrow.
Heartbreak no one fakes.
Even though it may seem to have gone.
The one bearing it...
Knows whether it is there or not.
To be there until it quits.
Until the feeling of it drops!
With it moving on.
When someone wounds another,
In a revenge one seeks.
Why is it accepted,
A forgiveness may be sought...
With a forgetting believed,
Has been granted and reached!
Only one can say,
When a personal pain has gone away.
And until that is expressed...
No one else can profess,
What to do and how to do it!
Or which remedy is best!
How it is applied...
And in which way to push this aside.
It is there to be felt...
Until it leaves!
And the grieving with it has gone.
With a sweeping away of deep secret weepings,
From a place they had stayed!
And all teardrops have dried.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Often Amused
I am often amused,
By those electing to be suppressed...
In distressed environments.
And since they disrespect themselves,
Anyone living within it...
Gets the same treatment.
No matter what the influences achieved may be.
I am often amused,
By those who critique others...
With equal debilitating sustained values.
As if this depiction makes them feel a safety,
To bring everyone down to a level...
That expresses their disgust!
I am often amused!
But my expereinces outside of this,
I refuse to anyone 'limited' to discuss.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Backlash Of Misunderstandings
We want to...
Control one's breath,
And each step they make.
We want to...
Have others say what we wish,
And dismiss them quick.
Caring less about them.
Or if they experience heartbreak.
We want to...
Prove to the Earth's inhabitants,
Our way of life and thought process...
Is throughout the Universe,
The very best.
We want to impress with this message,
That reflects...
Who it is we are,
As we thump upon our chests.
But,
Nowhere can we defend and keep protecting...
These delusions.
There seems to be assaults coming to us,
From every place we wish to share our good graces.
And all that we face...
Is a backlash of misunderstandings,
Of our extraordinary principles.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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That Dont Impress Me Much
Ive known a few guys who thought they were pretty smart
But youve got being right down to an art
You think youre a genius--you drive me up the wall
Youre a regular original, a know-it-all
Bridge:
Oh-oo-oh, you think youre special
Oh-oo-oh, you think youre something else
Okay, so youre a rocket scientist
That dont impress me much
So you got the brain but have you got the touch
Dont get me wrong, yeah I think youre alright
But that wont keep me warm in the middle of the night
That dont impress me much
I never knew a guy who carried a mirror in his pocket
And a comb up his sleeve--just in case
And all that extra hold gel in your hair oughtta lock it
cause heaven forbid it should fall outta place
(bridge)
Okay, so youre brad pitt
That dont impress me much
So you got the looks but have you got the touch
Dont get me wrong, yeah I think youre alright
But that wont keep me warm in the middle of the night
That dont impress me much
Youre one of those guys who likes to shine his machine
You make me take off my shoes before you let me get in
I cant believe you kiss your car good night
Cmon baby tell me--you must be jokin, right!
(bridge)
Okay, so youve got a car
That dont impress me much
So you got the moves but have you got the touch
Dont get me wrong, yeah I think youre alright
But that wont keep me warm in the middle of the night
That dont impress me much
You think youre cool but have you got the touch
Dont get me wrong, yeah I think youre alright
But that wont keep me warm on the long, cold, lonely night
That dont impress me much
Okay, so what do you think youre elvis or something...
Whatever
That dont impress me
song performed by by Shania Twain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Visit For As Long As You Wish
You may visit upon this land.
But to force debate of its direction...
Is not a matter to be question.
Or demand answers you expect.
Because you believe another way,
For its inhabitants is best.
You may visit for as long as you wish.
Enjoy the ambiance, hospitality...
And the peacefulness.
But suggestions from you,
Regarding the enhancements done...
To the view and our lifestyles too?
For us is not accepted.
Conflicts on this land...
You will not inject.
If you have motives and plans for this...
You will be ushered to experience,
A respected yet definite sudden exit.
We are not in need,
For a financed confusion that infuses deceit.
To have you label it democracy.
You may visit for as long as you wish.
And when your visit is finished...
You will leave and that will be it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Comfort of Familiarity
The comfort of familiarity,
Should not give some license
To disrespect openly!
Or disregard others living lives,
As they choose their lives to be.
Who gave who rights to be the mortgagor
And the mortgagee of this 'property'!
The comfort of familiarity,
Imposes on those with opinions expressed.
To feel accepted by a few,
Many drool to impress.
Dressed they seek with pretentions shown,
Just to be suppressed by intentions known!
The comfort of familiarity...
Looks for similarity to address!
To produce annoying conflicts enjoyed,
By those addicted to live with unrest!
Instead of encouraging themselves...
To live no less than their best!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Intelligence That Is
Based upon intelligence,
And the presence of it shown.
There is very little evidence,
That those professing to have it...
Intelligence that is,
Are not self possessed with ego...
That is clearly overblown.
A recognition of this...
Begins a mental healing,
For one like this that should not resist it.
The mental healing that is!
An intelligence reflects,
A tolerance it accepts.
So many desire to inject their hollowness.
Without an empatheticness expressed,
That seems to be left missing!
If anyone is listening...
For a meaning to be comprehended.
They can not digest that concept.
This has been dismissed from self examination.
Yet they wish to profess an acknowledgement,
That keeps them successfully digressed...
In self obsession without an evaluation,
One can inspect and find agreeably impressive.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Anna Lee, The Healer
Anna lee, anna lee, the healer
Healer with the healing hands
Makes you well as quick as she can
You'd love to see those smiling eyes
Of anna lee
From the himalaya mountain side
Of the nishigesh
To a california beach house
Facing towards the sea
Goes a gal who got her fame
By going round healing folks
Anna lee, anna lee, the healer
Healer with the healing hands
Makes you well as quick as she can
You'd feel those healing hands
Of anna lee
When she gets a chance to help someone
She's really happy
If you trust her with your ill
She'll quickly make you see
She can fix things up for you
Just like she did for me
Anna lee, anna lee, the healer
She cures people with her hands
I'm just one of her many fans
You'd love to feel those healing hands
Of anna lee
The healer, the healer, the healer, the healer
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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America Street
Rubber on my tires making contact with the road
Sign on the streetpost tells me which way I should go
Riding down america street funny that its one way
Riding down from uptown
To where the buildings are broken down in decay
America street its right nearby
Land of the free and the brave
If we cant work and make some change
There wont be much of this land left to save
Its a classic case of misdirection and slight of hand
We watch while our deficit grows
What a shame that we cant teach our kids to read
Makes you wonder where all the tax money goes ...i dont know
Well america street its right nearby
Land of the free and the brave
And if we cant work and make some change
There wont be much of this land left to save
Wont be much to save
Excuse me sir pardon me can you spare some change
Because its cold and I live outside
A thoughtful search into my pockets finds enough so he can rocket
Right up to the bar and enjoy his lie
America street its right nearby
Land of the free and the brave
And if we cant work and make some change
There wont be much of this land left to save
Wont be much to save...
song performed by by Edwin McCain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Elephants & Flowers
Boy is lonely on a burning hot summer night
Hes looking 4 some action, hes looking 4 a fight
Hes looking 4 a saviour in a city full of fools
Maybe he just needs a good talker to give him a good talking 2.
Can we talk baby? strip down, strip down.
I think Im gonna fall in love tonight.
Elephants and flowers, hot sweaty light paints a picture red and gold
On a crowd of naked bodies stripped down to their very souls
How can he find a shy angel in a city so bold (so bold)
He cant even find a place 2 dance, this is rock and roll.
Strip down, strip down, elephants and flowers
Is everybody ready? here we go.
Love the one who is love, (love) the one who gives us the power, (power)
The one who made everything, (what? ) elephants and flowers (what will he do? )
The one who will listen when all others will not.
There will be peace 4 those who love God a lot.
Elephants and flowers. strip down. think Im gonna fall in love tonight.
When I do, there wont be no more (confusion)
There wont be no more (no tears)
There wont be no more enemies, so that eliminates all the fear
And there wont be no sorrow, (sorrow)
There wont be no pain, (no pain)
There wont be no ball and no chain
Strip down, strip down. elephants and flowers.
Boy is lonely on a burning hot summer night
Hes looking 4 an angel to hold him til the morning light
Here we go.
Love the one who is love, (well) the one who gives us the power, (power)
The one who made everything, (everything) elephants and flowers (oh, yeah)
The one who will listen when all others will not. (all others will not)
There will be peace 4 those who love God a lot.
Here we go.
Love the one who is love, (love) the one who gives us the power, (power)
The one who made everything, (what? ) elephants and flowers (what will he do? )
The one who will listen when all others will not.
There will be peace 4 those who love God a lot.
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Those Tricks Played
Strip away from yourself,
Those tricks played...
That have outdated themselves,
And only then we can agree...
Upon what is honest,
In this relationship.
Your elementary school tactics used,
Once believed hiding insecurities...
Are no longer needed to impress,
Your ego needing to be addressed.
If I can take years of your critique,
I am sure one self examination...
Done you do will clear the air,
Between you and me.
Strip away from yourself,
Those tricks played...
That have outdated themselves,
Without delay.
And only then we can agree...
Upon what is honest,
In this relationship.
Both us seem to believe,
Has a value left and worthy to keep.
'I 'guess' you are right!
We both seemed to have gotten older...
And to me it has seemed,
To have happened overnight.'
Well...
Those nights have been the longest ones,
I have ever known in my life.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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