Attached To A Retro-Fitness
Attached to a retro-fitness...
Like a face that has been lifted.
Prepared and equipped,
To manufacture again anything...
Resembling one's comfort with it,
Is a wish for many to pretend their lives...
Do not with an aging process exist.
With a reality now speeding ahead as it is...
Ushered quickly away from their minds,
That will erase to take the place...
All signs of the times now lived.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
If These Times Lived Did Not Exist
May these times lived,
Be those times we now live in...
With the acknowledgement,
That if these times lived did not exist...
There would be no other times like these,
Experienced to say...
They have come to us to be witnessed,
Like this.
To enjoy to disagree in argument.
Or observe the necessity of conflict.
If these times for us lived did not exist...
How many can honestly say,
They awaken each day prepared to resist...
Such a majestic blessing many do not appreciate.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Process
Leave them alone!
You pose a threat,
To their process.
'Huh?
Their process?
What Process?
Their process doesn't exist! '
Sssshhh...
Quietly.
That's why you must leave them alone.
They are not aware of it.
And you...
Trying to get them to make some sense,
Is upsetting.
Just go along with it.
'Go along with what? '
The 'process'.
'But it doesn't exist.'
You know it and I know it.
Why can't you just leave it alone...
And let them pretend?
Why is it so important to you,
That they become aware and conscious?
Why?
There are several other charities,
To which you can donate your time and efforts.
In this case...
These minds have already been wasted.
Trust me.
Why do you think I whisper to you?
There are only a few of us left with the power to think.
Trust me?
Why do you think I whisper to you?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
No Acceptance Of What Is Going On
Many today are living lives in desperation.
Few are still clinging onto delusions.
The kind that only an appearance from Santa Claus,
Can forever erase.
The shouting sounds of reality,
Can not chase them away...
From their 'what if' existences.
There is no acceptance of what is going on,
In front of their faces.
And their lack of involvement,
Has invited what it is they deny.
Many today are living lives in desperation.
Few are still clinging onto delusions.
The kind that only an appearance from Santa Claus,
Can forever erase.
Minds are gone!
And there is no where to retrieve them,
From a lost and found!
Minds are gone!
And some folks were never attached to one,
To know what it is they are missing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Stages
First of all...
I know it's not just all about me.
Only in my mind I am told.
And that seems to be aging rapidly!
As a glowing youth...
Dims to be conquered,
By an aging truth!
Overnight it seems.
Although many may refuse to agree with me.
Those into appearances and physicalities!
I am not one to be talking about looks...
But let me say this,
No pages flipped through books
Prepares anyone for the stages of aging.
Or when to apply a night cheek lift!
To become disappointed with the results,
That sit unresisting to stay for a long visit!
Compliments on maintaining a youthfulness,
Stirs those in doubt about what is really meant...
By those unsolicited comments sent!
But pleased to get them without resentment.
There are those who may defy this process.
But when it noticibly starts...
A feeling of achievement begins to arrive,
Or a time gone by so quickly is realized!
Which gets many into denial fits!
Horrified that the time has come...
And that they too can not escape from this!
When a passing glance in a mirror,
Becomes a lingering stare...
What is seen is obvious.
And we all must become aware...
An aging has taken place,
To stay on one's face...
Not to go anywhere,
But to etch and trace.
Hopefully some allow...
And undergo with grace.
That's the reality of these stages we go through!
At least 'some' do.
The ones who are not moisturizing...
To rid a wrinkle,
Or two.
OR...
Those of us who make a fuss,
About a delayed aging process ordered...
Taking too long to come and is much overdue!
A special delivery was paid to insure a rush!
To subdue those lines that accrue...
With the stages of age some welcome unphased!
Praying this amazement of a quick aging,
Fades away!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
All That Is Regarded Foolishness
With experiences lived.
And an aging process accepted,
One realizes upon reflection...
How much easier it is to judge.
Than it is to self-examine.
Not many are fortunate to survive,
Through life threatening diseases.
To then step aside with their eyes open wide,
With a freeing of themselves from insecurities left...
Hidden deep inside to confront and rid.
With experiences lived.
And an aging process accepted,
One realizes upon reflection...
How much easier it is to judge.
Than it is to self-examine.
But when that moment in time comes,
An accepting of one's flaws and blemishes are done.
With a leaving behind trivial nonsense.
And all that is regarded as foolishness,
Becomes less tolerated to quickly dismiss.
Yesterday and those mistakes made,
And all that is regarded as foolishness...
Becomes less tolerated to quickly dismiss.
Wishing for excuses and alibis to create,
Becomes less tolerated to quickly dismiss.
And all that is regarded as foolishness disappears.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Definitions That Evolve
As is now defined...
Time and our minds change.
So do definitions that evolve,
To erase and lift limited restrictions.
Leaving us to redefine meaning.
And why we exist,
To fable our lives lived...
With a fictitiousness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I've Got To Do This
I've got to do this...
Until I quit.
I can not resist it.
It would be missed.
Yeah,
I've got to do this...
Until I quit.
I can't resist it,
One bit.
I dream to leap over black holes.
Stretching to reach stars...
In times ahead.
With a speeding through times...
That have from us long gone away,
Not to exist.
I've got to do this!
I've got to do this...
Until I quit.
I can't resist it,
One bit.
People do this,
And...
People do that.
And...
Some people put all their hopes and wishes,
In one hat or basket.
And I've got to do this!
Whatever hat or basket fits.
I've got to do this!
I dream to leap over black holes.
Stretching to reach stars...
In times ahead.
With a speeding through times...
That have from us long gone away,
Not to exist.
I've got to do this!
I've got to do this...
Until I quit.
I can not resist it.
It would be missed.
I've got to do this!
For this I exist.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
More Pretense Than Passion
When we each came to be sixteen,
Planting expectations with claims to fulfill hopes...
On hills with slopes overlooking streams.
Nothing in the World appeared mean back then.
Or did folks with bad thoughts
With worse on their minds,
Complain or whine,
Backstab then wine and dine their neighbors
Family and friends.
Again, back then.
By our mid-teens the life that held dreams,
We lived to create
Those scenes to forever lay within them insatiated!
Believing lives with no fear of apologizing would ever end.
But they did. And they do...
To leave us more apologetic for our deeds,
Or the lack to inspire them.
To discover us now pleading for signs of sanity.
Or something that resembles it.
Some of us were nurtured with thoughts
We would always be beloved, belonged
And provided lives gift boxed!
There is no joy when the connections to reality
Begin to snap in place.
We are no longer where we were...
Or in times when then we thought,
We knew what and who!
When we became sixteen...
Too much rebuttal spewed
Unrelenting to forgive,
Forget and mend!
Brewing still we are
For decisions that are made on a whim...
None of us can say
Changes brought our choices to satisfied the men,
And the women to find contentment in these times,
We are living now!
And no heart becomes spared,
For cares that surface on matured emotions.
They show quicker when aging begins to speed.
At sixteen no one is looking to sing a 'blues' duet...
Or think of aging as a death sentence.
Yet,
It is!
As we try to cling onto a bittersweet existence,
With the persistence of a spoiled child.
We eventually leave sixteen to welcome and adopt,
Comfortable habits we can not dropp but defend.
Venturing to speak of new paths to take.
But bluffing as if time had not revealed...
We are still more pretense than passion.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cutting Edge
As long as my work is edited...
To ensure by those who censor,
I say nothing to offend anyone...
They may believe is totally oblivious,
To a reality that affects...
Their pretentiously kept delusions,
They will meet and decide by voting...
If my written submissions as described,
Should be considerd...
Cutting edge!
And that determines...
Who amongst them have actually,
Spent anytime outside and beyond...
Their own comfort zones.
Many do not travel too far,
To ensure an innocence represented..
Thrives to keep some minds stunted.
Even though the majority of the people,
Have long been forced to do so...
With an eviction from these zones,
For most of their lives.
And find that a censorship...
Athough at these times lived ridiculous,
Should be applied to an acceptance...
Of a decadence that is marketed successfully!
But, of course...
That is a reflection of their lives as lived,
Valued as standards they publicly deny.
Yes it is hypocritical...
However,
It is what it is!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Being Direct
I don't know if it was aging,
Or its process...
That increased my desire,
To ensure a peace of mind I found...
Stayed in place.
Or if it began creating itself,
Over time.
And I sought ways to prioritize,
Its importance.
But I will admit this,
The finding of it found...
Has today with me lived to exist.
And being direct is an added bonus,
That allows me to use my age...
To guarantee any nonsense from me stays away.
And this I have noticed...
Without one word from me to say,
I can raise just 'one' eyebrow...
To get my point across.
Either with a frown or a smile,
It does not seem to matter.
Only those who have experienced this,
Can appreciate the value and the benefits...
Of aging with a peace of mind.
And being direct to protect what one has,
To classify it as valued...
Seems to get more respect when one has clearly aged.
However,
There are some exceptions!
Those who do not seem to age gracefully,
Do appear to attract and nag with exurberance.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Your Visit With Aging
I don't know why,
You believed I was older than you.
I use to be.
But you and aging have become much closer.
And it seems as if you have been convinced,
To interpret every year you have lived as a struggle.
I'm not trying to interpret my life that way at all.
When aging came to visit me,
I told it to make itself at home.
And if I choose to do what I please...
I'm not making an effort to be rude.
But neither am I going to sit with it to reminisced,
The good old days.
Too much everyday for me is new!
And...
I didn't feel I had to excuse myself from it to explore.
I just do.
You on the other hand...
Seem to want to impress aging,
As a depiction you believe is an acceptable process.
Hey,
We all have our interpretations.
However...
Yours appears to be a bit exaggerated.
But I aint mad at you!
What your visit with aging is like.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
That Aint Happenin'!
I admit I do have skills and abilities.
But not without heartbreak,
And the aches that come...
To achieving them,
Was not for me an easy undertaking.
Or did they come to lay at my feet,
Those skills and abilities!
For a quick retrieval.
Reality didn't come to me,
Quite that easy.
Sweat and tears dripping...
Hard work with motivation,
And lots of sacrifice took place.
With little encouragement coming my way.
Hey,
What can I say.
The facts speak for themselves.
To have someone stand in my face,
With the making of demands...
As if a flattering done to my ego,
Will deliver to them quickly...
From me what they command,
Becomes a disappointment for the both of us.
Nothing in my mind,
Came as a breeze to easily find!
What they see is a dignity.
And a pride in what I do.
To be taken for granted,
Are attitudes I do not pursue.
And anyone who believes,
My ego is easy to please.
Become surprised to discover...
I have a depth that is attached to an identity!
And aint nothing about any of it,
Has been given or come to me easy.
With God as my 'Guide'...
I have worked day and night for this.
Many hours, months and years...
God and I sat,
As I rid my eyes...
From the buckets cried of tears.
And to give that experience up,
To help fill someone else's cup...
Has not been my reason,
To immediately do what others expect from me.
That aint happenin'.
However...
I will say this,
To know my activities have become recognized...
To validate in these times that exist,
Means more to me...
Than the show of someone's quickly expressed,
Disrespect.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Proud To Exist To Witness Possibilities
I am glad I represent a generation aging.
With an acceptance to reminisce and reflect,
Upon the times I have been blessed to remember.
I am glad to be able to think with a thought process,
That connects with a wish to daily adventure.
And welcome a maturity I have earned.
With all that being conscious of it has to offer.
Although I will admit,
A loneliness when so many are dismissing...
There are phases of life that should be natural.
And understood with observations undenied.
And moving forward instead of backwards.
Or remaining down to earth unchanged.
As many aging with their delusions intact,
Would like to claim with a sameness of sanity.
But isn't that what stagnation is?
A stubbornness that is fixed in place.
With ways that begin to collect ignored dust.
And being stagnant and stale, unchanged...
Is something I don't consider fresh or impressive.
Or sparkles as if proud to exist to witness possibilities.
Not if one is to grow and experience what life is.
Or come to realize this adventure isn't here to last forever.
I am glad I represent a generation aging,
With an acceptance.
I am glad to be able to think with a thought process,
That connects with a wish to daily adventure.
And welcome a maturity I have earned.
With all that being conscious of it has to offer,
As a life I have learned to live...
To appreciate, explore and not take for granted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
If The Surface For Them Did Not Exist
If the surface didn't exist,
Many wouldn't have a thought to cling to.
Many wouldn't know,
Which gossip heard was true.
If the surface for them did not exist.
If the surface didn't exist,
The many dependent on having lives not their own...
Would be lost without being told what to do.
Many absolutely would not have a clue...
How to find their way around,
Without following in someone's footsteps.
If the surface they sniffed did not exist.
And if the surface for them did not exist...
They would not be able to sit alone,
Doing something completely on their own...
And appreciating life,
With the minding of their own business.
If...
The surface for many did not exist,
It would be taumatic for them to seek a thought process.
Many would not know where or how to begin.
So many are accustomed to living lives that are shallow.
With an ability only to identify with that...
Which is supplied and arrives to them surfacely.
Even a dog sniffing tries to find a place to bury a bone.
And doing that alone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In Civil Disobedience!
The majority of them have lived their lives,
In an isolated racist bubble.
Now that their comfort has been marked by troubles...
They seek a bailout from their mindless gains.
With wishes their selfishness did not exist.
Or had not been obvious to others,
Who had witnessed this!
While a greed was fed to exploit those in need.
Those who now seem much better off.
Since they have less blood to bleed...
Than those who lived totally on their good credit.
And loans the economy...
Can no longer assist them in their leeching to feed.
And their misdeeds and deceit...
Now chases them in fear!
With no escape from this beast!
While they swarm the streets...
In civil disobedience!
Treating them with a taste of defeat!
Completely out of their minds...
Come the times for those of selfishness!
Protesting that their interests,
Has left them in duress!
With no fingers to point.
As they are kept close to their own chests!
In attempts to keep themselves...
From losing their precious breath!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Declining Forgiveness
We must help those whose lives,
Are stuck in an unchanged past.
It is difficult for them to accept,
The times now out of their grasp.
With embellished insecurities...
Of memories flourished now gone.
Their mentalities are witnessed to be diminishing quick.
And within themselves,
They can not admit...
These times lived today,
Will not continue to permit...
An attention given,
To such stubbornly held sickness...
They have become riddled and sit with!
We must help those whose lives,
Are stuck in an unchanged past.
It is difficult for them to accept,
The times now out of their grasp.
The challenges ahead requires a collective focus,
That has to exist!
To be drained emotionally by someone misfit...
Detaches an empathy!
With a declining forgiveness,
Decaying with it!
And a healing affect,
Will for all go neglected
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
This Time It Is Their Turn to Show Concern
They had loved the fact,
They had the power...
To stop someone in their tracks.
Power to stop someone...
Standing right where they stood at!
And today that power seems to wane from them a bit.
It seems to take the smugness from their eyes.
As their materialistic lives,
Slips from their 'privileged' lips!
Although once lifted on loans and credit!
There is a seriousness about life lived today,
That has never confronted those deluded before.
Those secluded in exclusive lifestyles...
Now with foreclosure signs on their lawns,
And doors!
Those who had hired police...
To racially profile the ones less 'elite'!
To make sure they were not ignored and followed.
Now they are the ones...
Ushered away from their vacant streets!
'God don't like ugly! '
~Am I ugly, Ma? ~
'That's just an expression! '
And today that power seems to wane from them a bit.
It seems to take the smugness from their eyes.
As their materialistic lives,
Slips from their 'privileged' lips!
And they cry the loudest at the thought of it!
'God don't like ugly!
One day it will be handled.
And justified it will be.
All of it!
Don't worry about where they are moving.
This time it is their turn to show concern!
And...
A lot of it! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Nightmares Won't Stop
The nightmares won't stop
The thought process won't drop
You lie on the floor shaking
What is this you see?
Is it a dream or a reality
A question to explain away evil
If it is plausible not to exist
Then maybe its fake
Your not drowning in a black lake
Your not being bitten poisonous snake
Your not really awake
It is all in your head
An over active imagination
A mental complication
What a realization
Then comes another sensation
The nightmares won't stop
The thought process won't drop
You lie on the floor shaking
What is this you see?
Is it a dream or a reality
A question to explain away evil
If it is plausible not to exist
It also could be
You pinch your skin to see if this is
Your trying to open your eyes
if only to see
Their must be something you missed
Explaining away the possibility of your demise
The nightmares won't stop
The thought process won't drop
You lie on the floor shaking
What is this you see?
Is it a dream or a reality
A question to explain away evil
If it is plausible not to exist
Then when that coffin you lie in with spikes comes closed
You'll wake up alive with all your cloths
But look at all holes
Their mere shreds
How is that possible?
A mental transference of the material
Then the question comes did you wake into another dream
This is a sickness and a disease
If only solving it could be a breeze
The nightmares won't stop
The thought process won't drop
You lie on the floor shaking
What is this you see?
Is it a dream or a reality
A question to explain away evil
If it is plausible not to exist
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My First Time Being Here
The experience of aging
Is a process many fight.
Some act as if it's not a gift...
To grow older with delight.
I'm often asked how it feels,
To be an age I don't appear.
I tell them it's my first time doing it...
It's my first time being here!
And if I knew I should feel a certain way,
Nothing in my past prepared me for this day!
It's all new to me...
I have no clue how I should be.
Nor do I look in the mirror with fears,
To chase away!
('That depends on HOW I'm looking')
It's clear I'm aging,
With a grace I accept!
And blessed I feel everyday!
No one I know will be here forever...
No matter what's done to stay!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!