As It Is! It Is...As It Is
This stirred inside me,
Long before I spoke.
Or said a word first.
Few concepts come to sit,
Premeditated to rehearse...
Before I come out with it.
As you see it...
So do I.
And I marvel at its composition.
Sometimes wishing,
I admit...
I could rearrange the topic that exists.
But...
As it is!
It is...
As it is.
Inquisitive I am as well,
From where the origin of this dwells.
But...
As it is!
It is...
As it is.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
I Am Here To Represent My Mind
Im here to represent my mind
Why do we live inside our mind?
Never wish for the wrong
You could've had it for long
Already things happen aside
Put you off place- rocksteady decide
Long stride to get whats in need
Only chance there is to succeed
I reason with the morals of ghosts
Use my knowledge as a tool
Plauged by many worthy hosts
Anti-segregational rule
His face is shadowed
He lurches his steps
An existance perceived to the greatest of depths
Materializing thoughts
The tangible crusade
Generations develop, change and then fade
Concepts in concepts- beautiful concepts
Concepts in concepts- dutiful concepts
Uprooting concepts, relating to indepth
Making you a metaphor, exposing the real depth
poem by Bradley Downs
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This Is Going To Be A Long Ride
My observations are never premeditated.
With a plan to only accept that which I believe.
I experience a witnessing,
As a student willing to learn.
I take notes whether mental or written.
And free myself from regurgitating quotes,
To whisper into ears to then leave.
I'm not like that.
What I describe is viewed with my eyes.
And what I hear is seldom my own sentiments.
Although when I see something that should be clear,
But to others it is not as it appears...
I wonder when my delusions have ended.
And how many conscious aren't aware when they start.
I'm not like that either.
Could we all be confused,
And refuse to accept we've been abused and neglected...
By our own delusions?
Could we all be wishing what we witness isn't what it is.
To admit what is does exist without the benefit of our wishes?
Could my observations perceived as not being premeditated,
Be, in fact, a comforting of a trap...
My mind extends to enhance my comprehension?
Or...
Could I just be needing rest and have yet to confess,
I can use as much of it as I can get?
'Yes! '
I'm sorry.
I am having a personal self assessment.
Am I disturbing you?
'Yes.
I am hoping your 'self-assessment'...
Soon ends as to not to further prolong,
My 'already' too long bus ride.
But who knows...
Maybe I am confused AND deluded! '
I apologize.
I didn't realize I was speaking that loudly.
'No problem.
I do the same thing myself.
At home.
Alone.
When I'm seeking an intelligent conversation.'
Oh.
I agree with you.
This is going to be a long ride.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thick At that! ...And Glossy!
How much admitted,
Actually exists?
If you talk about someone
In a negative light,
What makes that which is expressed,
Alright to dance on gossip licked lips?
Thick
At that...
And glossy!
How much admitted,
Actually exists?
We know of no one's true feelings,
But our own.
No conflicts inflicted will be felt,
With a depthness known,
No one knows...
Who's in bed with who,
And who is left alone.
But there is no stopping,
Having a fling or two
With someone new.
Who knows what to do,
With a stiffened bone!
How much admitted,
Actually exists?
How much has been changed
To arrange point of views,
By those who discreetly
Do what they do!
How much admitted,
Actually exists...?
Has driven misfits
To even more exposure.
And Rod Sterling has passed...
To worlds beyond Twilight Zones.
And he was very comfortable,
With discussing 'possibilities'!
If it is worthy to admit
Situations believed to be unfit...
One must sit and evaluate,
Being in someone's business not theirs...
How much actually exists?
And whoever committed an admission...
Please admit it!
So we can move 'that hell',
Away from here and us.
And perhaps that 'thick-and-glossy' act
Has been given to attract minds,
Off course!
And all the time.
Will be chased to another place.
And heads here can begin to erect first,
With perception.
Instead of inflated egos wishing to sweat.
How much admitted,
Actually exists?
Well that all depends
On how well the re-enactments
Are delivered in a heightened freshness!
And the staleness is forgiven,
Of prior performances claimed.
Thick at that,
And glossy had more rumors to spread.
That's how she kept her lips supple!
And prepared to use if she had to!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Un Titled Poem Of Mine, ...
Awake Once Again,
To A World of Sin.
And A Life of Strife.
Wishing To Only Be Held By You.
Thrown to The Wind,
Dust to the Sky,
Inside Something Has Died,
Wishing To Only Be Held By You.
Sleepwalking Though Dayz,
Traped in a Maze,
Monkey in a Cage.
Wishing Only To Be Held By You.
Used by all Whom one Loves,
No One Your Ever Thinking Of,
Betryed By Every Body Once Trusted,
Wishing Only To Be Held By You.
Story Told With Out One Word,
Epic Battle Never To Be Heared,
Living Seems Only to be Abserd,
Wishing Only To Be Held By You,
Only Thing That Realy Matters,
Only Concern, Only Care,
Only Reason To Stay In The Fight, ...
Is Wishing, ..
To Have A Love As You, ...
poem by Steven Loebrich
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nobody Spoke (for Karen)
Nobody spoke to Lucy,
nobody spoke at all,
ain't no joke
nobody spoke.
nobody spoke
for five long years
ain't no joke
nobody spoke.
Lucy withdrew
without a clue
why nobody spoke,
nobody spoke
for five long years,
nobody spoke
Ain't no joke
nobody spoke!
Lucy went mad
she went crazy!
She screamed
she cried, she sobbed,
but nobody spoke,
for five long years
Ain't no joke
nobody spoke.
Many years later
she saw them,
those people she wanted
to be her friends.
but ain't no joke
nobody spoke,
nobody spoke
for five long years.
Ain't no joke
nobody spoke.
Lucy left a note
in daddy's drawer,
put on her very best dress.
Did her hair in a very fine way
and walked into the hall as a guest.
She walked up to the folk
that never spoke,
said hello in an ordinary way,
then she pulled out a gun
and opened fire.
Yes she shot all those folk
on that day.
Now they were silent
now they were still,
cos ain't no joke
that nobody spoke
and now
they never will.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Wishing long live the butterflys
Wishing you were free
Wishing going wherever you see
Wishing life isnt plain
Wishing you have no pain
Wishing you can breath
Wishing you cant leave
Wishing you can stay
Wishing you can fly
Wishing you have the whole day
Wishing to watch the clouds pass by
Wishing you were a butterfly
Iong live that butterfly
poem by Fading Heart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Maestro
Why is that guy back again to play the Flute?
He was among the French Horn players,
For many years.
Back then he was hotly pursued.
What is this all about?
The audience stirs with curiosity.
I admit...
I too am inquisitive.
'Perhaps it has all been orchestrated.
I've noticed this new 'maestro'...
Has a unique approach to sound.
And how that sound is produced.
He certainly uses that baton,
Like one no one has ever seen before.'
I've begun to notice,
How his footprint is being implemented...
Quite effectively.
To leave 'this' orchestration,
One to be forever remembered.
And with hardly any opposition.
What is the title of this new composition,
Arranged by this young maestro.
'Let The Sun Rise And Set Over Hawaii'
Interesting.
Very, very interesting.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Something You Don't Have to Read
You will never comprehend or feel
Depths of emotion experienced...
If that is not your wish.
To exploit yourself like this!
In the selection of each word...
Chosen for this poem,
You can decide to rest your curiousity.
This is being composed to take a different turn,
Upon a new road of a personal concern.
An expectation is not encouraged!
For you to decide if I should be bland,
Or flourish thoughts to crop upon a topic!
And whether or not it should be profound or grand.
But it is hoped,
You do not live a life promoting abstinence
From deep feelings felt.
Or deny yourself an appetite,
To explore sincerety without premeditation!
Hesitating initiates guilt that can overwhelm,
Those out of practice!
Or those relaxed and dressed in kilts!
'I'm looking for rhyme...
Not reason!
And I may not be doing neither!
Since it has been a while,
I have been under anesthesia! '
This is not weakness to muffle,
Seeping from a heart that feels.
Nor does it diminish a strength...
One has to boast about with zeal!
If what is felt is real,
Let it flow!
Whether rehearsed or not,
Let it go!
Others do not have to know!
And 'this' composition when completed...
Is something you don't have to read...
To seek confirmation or validate,
That which exists and feeds your need!
Although I hope it pleases,
Those who enjoy these brief mental teases!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Silentium
She has not yet been born:
she is music and word,
and therefore the untorn,
fabric of what is stirred.
Silent the ocean breathes.
Madly day’s glitter roams.
Spray of pale lilac foams,
in a bowl of grey-blue leaves.
May my lips rehearse
the primordial silence,
like a note of crystal clearness,
sounding, pure from birth!
Stay as foam Aphrodite – Art –
and return, Word, where music begins:
and, fused with life’s origins,
be ashamed heart, of heart!
poem by Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
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Witnessing As I Live
I have never before been given the opportunity,
To rehearse the process of aging.
Some would have others believe,
They are gifted with the expertise.
And already know what it is like.
I don't.
I am witnessing as I live my life...
With a wisdom I have never known.
And mysterious aches I feel in my bones,
As if done to remind me...
'Something' seeks attention and wishes it shown.
I have never before been given the opportunity,
To rehearse the process of aging.
But I must admit,
The process is interesting.
Although...
Being around those who announce their pains,
Is more aggravating than anything else.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With a Toiling Done
I have been writing for so long,
The act of it is not premeditated.
It is who I am.
Something I do I understand.
And it is a gift I am grateful,
To have and be blessed with.
Some assume what I do is easy,
Because I express such love for it.
But if I had ever felt it easy...
I would find it not a challenge.
Like many who sit,
Wishing for assistance...
To confront their challenges,
They find themselves faced with.
Misunderstanding that it is 'love'...
That benefits with a toiling done of it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Counting The Days
When you'RE down putting nothing but a mask
And you GET UP and you're running out of blast
When you picked OUT A FEATHER WRITE a word
with the debts and you set it down
But now I'm into
Like a clock...has been around
what...the town
...
but now
Counting the days to rearrange
Beyond the surface
We're meant to pay
counting the days to rearrange
and you won't suffer
we're still the same
When you're...spreading from the past
Like you haven't got the running on your ways
when you're a bit loaded digging UP the dirt
and you had...
but now I'm into
...on the ground
and you're dizzy, YOU'RE AD NAUSEAM AND foul
...BLEEDING ALL DOWN
but now
Counting the days to rearrange
Beyond the surface
We're meant to pay
Counting the days to rearrange
And you won't suffer
We're still the same
I'm tired of...the lies
Say you don't wannabe and so do I
Where'S the rap and respect
speaks to reach all the sides
where's the goddess bless of justify
Counting the days to rearrange
Beyond the surface
We're meant to pay
Counting the days to rearrange
And you won't suffer
We're still the same
I'm tired of...the lies
Say you don't wannabe and so do I
Where'S the rap and respect
speaks to reach all the sides
where's the goddess bless of justify
[Thanks to [email protected] for these lyrics]
song performed by by Guano Apes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Getting Better
It's getting better all the time
I used to get mad at my school
The teachers who taught me weren't cool
Holding me down
Turning me round
Filling me up with your rules.
I've got to admit it's getting better,
It's getting better all the time
I've got to admit it's getting better,
It's getting better since you've been mine.
Me used to be angry young man
Me hiding me head in the sand
You gave me the word
I finally heard
I'm doing the best that I can
I admit it's getting better,
It's getting better all the time
I've got to admit it's getting better,
It's getting better since you've been mine.
Getting so much better all the time
It' getting better all the time, Better Better, Better
It' getting better all the time, Better Better, Better
I used to be cruel to my woman I beat her and
kept her apart from the things that she loved
Man, i was mean, but I'm changing my scene and I'm doing the best that I can.
I admit it's getting better,
It's getting better all the time
I've got to admit it's getting better,
It's getting better since you've been mine.
Getting so much better all the time
song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After Reading Keats
Down his great corridors of sumptuous sound
Today I wandered once again. Each word
Seemed like the lyric rapture of a bird
Singing in Spring a-bove the burgeoning ground.
O once again that old delight I found,
Once more the marvel of his voice I heard,
Until my spirit with new joy was stirred,
Hearing such music through his halls resound.
How beautiful thy palace, Poet blest!--
That room wherein is set thy Grecian Urn,
Thy Nightingale that sings at set of sun
Out in thy garden where my tired feet turn;
And in one chamber, back from his long quest,
That passionate lover, young Endymion!
poem by Charles Hanson Towne
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Cats are inquisitive, but hate to admit it.
quote by Mason Cooley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Words!
it has been said
that God spoke worlds
into being...
and that Jesus
was the word of God.
that we are created
in the image of God...
that we are the dreams
of God made flesh...
yet we open our mouths,
and nothing happens!
bats hang from the rafters
of our souls.
we speak, windows rattle,
and wars begat wars.
we write with invisible ink!
no cosmos, no stars,
only hunger and despair.
our words close the door,
and choose to be strangers.
we shout, and graves are dug,
we whisper, and no one hears!
could it be that true word
is written in silence,
spoken in awareness,
breaks concepts, tears down walls.
and we who live in fear,
running from the image of our selves,
cannot touch the source,
and have forgotten the breast.
speak worlds into being,
or speak this one into destruction?
spirit becomes flesh,
and blooms or decays.
choice?
awareness, and silence,
crucifixion, and fire.
Buddha spoke, Jesus listened,
Jesus spoke, Buddha listened...
perhaps we could learn!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Is There Anyone Home
Is there anyone home in this house made of stone?
Anyone inside know my name
Ive been around for a half of a hundred days.
Never saw a door shut so tight
Turn around, dont look down
Theres a man behind you with a gun
Like any wandering child in the wilderness,
Wild and uncaged are your ways
I think I heard
Someone stirred
I think I heard
Someone stirred
Theres a light around you
Ive come to switch it on
It will brighten every room
Dont be ashamed if you feel a whole lot warmer in you heart.
You got that feelin in your soul
Is there anyone home in this house made of stone?
Anyone in there who might care
Ive grown weary and wise and I feel much amazed.
Got a few good tales to unwind
Turn around, dont look down
Theres a man behind you with a gun.
Like any wandering minstrel Ive dawned in the house of a thousand delights.
I think I heard
Someone stirred
I think I heard
Someone stirred
I think I heard
Someone stirred
I think I heard
Someone stirred
I think I heard
Someone stirred
I think I heard
Someone stirred
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paradox
He never touched her limbs;
But she ever touched his heart.
She is not a paragon of beauty;
Yet to him she is par excellence.
She never spoke to him love;
Yet her every word is love.
It is before him that she blushed;
It is before her that he flushed.
They spoke less and chatted less;
But ocean of tacit feelings crossed.
She is the cause for his hundred poems,
And is the source of his youthful rhythm.
That much none kindled her;
That much none stirred him either.
His gain of her is immense;
Vice versa she only knows.
He let her know like ‘water in glass’;
She is yet to let her cat out of the bag.
Their paths would lead nowhere;
Still he treads on only that way.
Why is this paradox,
From their orthodox?
No law is for stimulus.
Both ways it is perilous.
20.05.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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My background with Cummings was rehearse, rehearse, rehearse, but Tuesday liked to walk in and do the scene. I must say that she was really wonderful. Aggravating, but wonderful.
quote by Dwayne Hickman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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