Attempts Made To Prevent Change
A routine affixed to descriptions of stability,
Once depicted in overtures praised...
Has not strengthened aging to crumble foundations,
Built in days to glorify values and standards.
But has stubbornly resisted,
Against a flexibility these days lived...insist.
Time has proven,
Only that which is flexible sustains and endures...
With drastic adjustments made if needed,
Enabling innovative proactive actions consideration,
To continue forward with a pace that stays,
Current and updated to appreciate.
Reassuring those still left afraid....
That a future faced must let go of a grasp,
Wishing to maintain the relevance...
Of a quickly fading and dieing past.
And any attempts made to prevent change,
Will not or can it as is...in ignorance, forever last.
Reviewing to revisit and remininsce the past,
Would better serve a cost effectiveness...
If left to exhibit in museums.
Isn't that the purpose for them?
To visit and review what is on display...
Then to leave what has been exhibited when finished.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Such Portraits From the Past
Is there a relevance in attempts made...
To restore a past,
When an innocence was more restricting?
And the slow pacing done in those days,
Seem to last as long as those gaslights burning.
Or the wax that dripped from candlesticks.
It is difficult to face current times...
That seem less romanticized,
Than those of cobbled stoned streets.
Upon which people mingled,
With a sharing of their simple visions.
In nights then to seem never ending.
Is there a relevance in attempts made...
To restore a past,
When an innocence was more restricting?
And the slow pacing done in those days,
Seem to last as long as those gaslights burning.
Or the wax that dripped from candlesticks,
Thick with wicks homemade.
Is there a relevance to any of this today?
And why some try to glorify such portraits from the past?
Didn't many complained about them when they lived back then?
But today there seems such a renewed interest.
With a wish for those values.
And a quality of life reminiscing embellished victories.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Opportunity Glares With No Preferences There
Unable to agree or compromise,
On what values and standards...
Should be left in a past,
Where all of our ancestors thrived.
Are those positioning themselves to delay...
The seriousness of what is needed today,
To uplift and move humanity forward...
In a less thieving,
Greeding to deceive leaving grief kind of way.
And promising with all of us,
To visit with a permanent stay!
That a world economy has dictated...
A bust from a boom...
Heads directly our way.
There are those on their knees still praying...
To awaken to see,
Horse drawn carriages on cobbledstoned streets.
Unable to agree or compromise,
What values and standards...
Should be left in a past,
Where all of our ancestors thrived and survived,
When gaslamps on poles lit the night skies.
May be a political ploy to get dwindling votes,
Some stubborned folks...
Believe will keep them praised in adoring eyes.
But...
Enjoying titles along with prestige,
Will not prevent the reality of circumstances...
Coming quicker to them than their fantasies can be released.
With decisions to make to let go of pretensions.
While an opportunity glares...
With no preferences there,
For anyone to preach or hesitate in debating long speeches...
Which choices are better,
Than the ones they should not keep!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Picking It Up
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up,
From the middle can be critical.
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up...
Like that does not ensure,
Self assurance to occur.
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up,
From the middle can be critical.
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up...
Like that does not ensure,
Self assurance to occur.
It is a strategy that one should seek.
With satisfaction first examined.
To make sure that one increases harmony!
With a proactive way,
Of life to live.
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up,
From the middle can be critical.
It is the heat that one releases.
When nothing satisfies to analyzing eyes...
Only seeing with a vision that's fixed.
As if in a tunnel,
To rip through quick.
It's not a riddle when one plays it second fiddle,
Oh...
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up,
From the middle can be critical.
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up,
With proactive actions to prevent blurs.
And...
Don't be vague!
Proactive actions do prevent blurs.
Don't be vague.
Proactive actions do prevent,
The making of excuses.
Proactive actions do prevent blurs.
Don't be vague.
Proactive actions do prevent,
The making of excuses.
Proactive actions do prevent blurs.
Don't be vague.
Proactive actions do prevent,
The making of excuses.
Oh...
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up,
From the middle can be critical.
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up,
One should think of self assurance that endures.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blinded By a Bondage Devoted to Symbolic Love
The presence of a new consciousness has arrived.
And those still in conflict about a yesterday misunderstood...
Are wondering with concern about those decisions made,
When a focus upon that which is before them...
Remains undone with a denial that it is needed.
And still they wish to proceed in answering questions asked.
From a past that neither has relevance or a significance...
To what is current and existing.
Whether it is resisted or not!
And an addicting ignorance,
Keeps those faithfully blinded by a bondage...
Devoted to symbolic love!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Best Of Images That Represent
Expensive is the ongoing investment made,
In ignorance.
No longer is it cost effective,
Deciding who sees and who stays blind.
Or the act to praise some with an uplifting done,
While leaving others behind.
Who made the decision,
To choose those to represent high ideals?
Who made the decision,
Selected standards and values...
Would be the best etiquette?
Who decided to mess up everything like this?
And who self righteous,
Will ever admit...
Something has gone terribly wrong,
In their insistence persisted...
Of this permitted existence.
Expensive is the ongoing investment made,
In ignorance.
No longer is it cost effective,
Deciding who sees and who stays blind.
Or the act to praise some with an uplifting done,
While leaving others behind.
Who made the decision,
To choose those to represent high ideals?
Who made the decision,
Selected standards and values...
Would be the best etiquette?
Who decided to mess up everything like this?
And please,
Don't let it be...
The act of illegal aliens.
Or those homeless and hungry,
Pleading on their knees.
Wishing to give the best of images that represent,
The quality of life and those highlights of a great society.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Welcome the New
To Welcome the new,
Release the old
To enter the future,
Let go the past
To take up new lives,
Give away those lived.
It sounds so practical,
It seems so sensible,
It should be so feasible
It should be easy.
It’s none of the above,
Yet in some ways
Tho’ it’s almighty hard,
We do it each of our days.
We just move forward.
We are made to change,
We are shaped for change,
We survive by change,
We live in a storm of change,
From the Maker’s hand.
Today was another change,
We stand on the edge of vast change,
And afraid or unafraid of great change,
We all walked forward.
Some may say we had no choice,
Others say even that is a choice,
But I say that by hand and voice,
We all make a difference.
We always can,
We always will.
It is what we do.
We are the changers, and the changed.
And we go forward.
(written in January,2000)
poem by Gabrielle Ciarann Roniyah Baer
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Fantastic 'Had' Been Your Daydreams
Fantastic 'had' been your daydreams.
And intrumental in your survival.
Your past activities,
Are justly due some applause.
But your current expectations,
For what had 'then' taken place...
Has been updated to require substance.
And those elements from your past,
Did not exist to be considered missing.
Even though that attention given,
You believed had no end.
There is no reason to prioritize,
An updating of a presence that did not begin.
And that end for you has long departed.
Along with those whims you stored within.
With a wish to see them 'alive' again.
That daylight is not on your side!
To make futile attempts,
Your arguments for reminiscing them,
Generates a cause to re-establish a sense of nostalgia.
For you perhaps...
That would bring back a confidence with happiness.
However...
It is highly recommended you abandon that campaign.
Since these days now lived by the many awakening...
Offers little patience to regain that flame,
Few, if any, wish to rekindle.
No time is left to spend in waste,
On those insisting their meaningless values...
Have merit!
To satisfy a hungered taste.
And are worthy to be kept adored!
Those efforts have explored and exhausted,
Their usefulness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Yesterdaze
Yesterdaze are gone, along with my youth
I'm older now, and longer, in the tooth
I have very few regrets from the past
You must look forward, there, the die isn't cast
The fog of the past is now hard to remember
Did that happen in October or in September
Yesterdaze can't be overcome, they're done
The choices were made, and it was fun
Much of the ‘70's is a fog in the past
Why change much, except the memories to last
It was my youth and I was a little crazy
That's what really makes it all so hazy
Too many drugs and lots of alcohol
Nobody wanted to change, anything at all
"Live for today", was the overriding theme
So many lost days, make me want to scream
Yesterdaze not tomorrows
Made a life, without many sorrows
Sure it could have been differently done
Maybe I spent too many days in the sun
There's no need to overthink the past
It is what it is, and couldn't last
We move on, with the lessons learned
At least in that daze, my mind wasn't burned
I love my future, and I love my past
Yesterdaze are gone, the future isn't cast
It was a challenge to just live through them
With the Lord's help, Yesterdaze were a gem
poem by J.B. LeBuert
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The Middle Class
Between dire straits and meager existence,
There are those who insist...
They represent the middle class.
And doing the best they can to make ends meet,
While that gap is widening fast.
Exhausted from swimming in debts and credit.
And unable to afford the keeping up of appearances.
Although they support those standards they value...
Those that have given up such tasks,
Can not convince them their beliefs have been trashed.
Between dire straits and meager existence,
There are those who insist...
They represent the middle class.
And as they hold onto dreams quickly slipping away,
Deluded they remain that changes made aren't here to stay.
Between dire straits and meager existence,
There are those who insist...
They represent the middle class.
And even though the sight of this continues to be sad,
Few are heard left to brag about what they own...
That others do not have.
Today...
Those struggling to maintain their middle class status,
Have one thing in common with those who are poor...
Wishing they had just a few dollars more!
And a door they can close to ignore what's going on.
Those days are gone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Exhibit A
What appears,
Is a clear re-introduction of reality.
You can say it's Exhibit A.
The one quickly scanned...
When sweetened dreams,
Were distributed to be held...
In fat greedy hands.
Exhibit A depicted...
What would occur,
If deceit was released
To be inflicted.
But as always...
As temptations do.
Blind those who believe,
They are among the chosen few.
Those who are usually the ones left screwed.
Exhibit A...
Was not just there on display,
For folks to glance and walk away!
Exhibit A...
Though abstract!
Presented facts of discomforts.
Facts presented by those nonconforming.
Facts shouted out.
And now those degradations...
Come to visit,
Those who are being...
Economically tossed about,
In a suffering they were led to believe...
Would never be theirs to bear!
But...
No one prepared,
For Exhibit A to be harsh on them.
Not those who entertained their selfishness!
Not those who maintained and fed their whims.
Not today!
Not Exhibit A.
To begin all over again for 'them'!
And theirs.
Who flaunted their wares,
Without a mercy they cared to share!
What appears,
Is a clear re-introduction of reality.
You can say it's Exhibit A.
The one quickly scanned...
When sweetened dreams,
Were distributed to be held...
In fat greedy hands.
Now demanding full attention.
An attention that commands!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Poppycock
Because he is black,
He believes he is held back.
He is!
And so are they!
Because she is black...
And attractive.
She believes she was hired for that!
She was!
For display.
Because I am black,
And proud of that fact!
I can not understand...
Why many blacks can not accept,
Who and what they are...
Will always be attacked!
There is a sickness attached,
With insecurities no one can match.
People are conditioned,
To believe in superstitions...
With inflicted intuitions to expose an ignorance.
And yet superiority can not be proven,
By the advent of incompetence.
Anyone can look around,
And observe standards and moral attitudes placed...
Crumbling to the ground!
Live and in living color.
Very few of these images,
Are broadcasted in black and white!
And what is done undercover?
Produces all shades of everything.
Making what one's values...
With traditions they uphold,
Little sense left to fathom to maintain, grasp or follow!
It's all poppycock!
'There you go!
Bragging about your sexual prowess,
Again! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Shadow
Things I have left behind
Within an effort to move forward,
Counting every minute, every second-
Reliving my life through every hour, day and year-
The night time sky is falling before my own eyes
Blocking the pathway before me, blinding me-
I cannot foresee a future-The rain that fell every time
I tried to venture outward,
Rain that transformed to tears
When all hope had ostensibly disappeared.
Things I have left behind-
Places where I had been locked inside,
Having lost grounds with all that is real-
Perhaps a few roses in a cracked vase by my bedside,
A mother that did not care and a father that did not believe-
When through my own eyes my world had fallen to pieces.
I left behind many people-
People I did not trust and it was then that I knew
I had to rebuild my foundation,
To build a future for myself that would be mine and mine alone-
Things I have left behind are now
Gone and gone forever-all that is left is time-
Time to move on and to bury the past in my back yard and
Search for hope, a purpose and a new reality.
These things I have left behind are sinking into the ground-
Now I can foresee a future- the flame on my candle is burning
Guiding me as I run forward into a garden of blossoming trees and
A paved pathway upon which to run forward- and a cloudless sky
Where I can lift my wings, once broken and are healing, and fly-
Fly high above looking down below at my newfound veracity-
I know if I were to take a look behind-
All I could see would be a shadow upon a sidewalk-
A shadow of my past and everybody knows that shadows don't last forever, and
All else that I have left behind is gone forever,
Looking forward at the allure of the springtime and
I see clearly now- there is no more rain and as I look above me
I can see trees seemingly touching the sun against a deep blue sky-
I can see clearly now because my eyes are open wide and
There are no tears to cry today and when I glance behind me-
All I see is a shadow- that shadow of my past, vanishing in the late spring's breeze-
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Condition of Traditions
How will we handle,
The complete absence of fading values.
And the dismissing of those messages,
Through the years.
Those messages missed and blocked,
By closed ears.
How will we handle the loss of standards,
And our way of self righteous life.
How will we handle the right 'not' to fight,
In needless struggle.
Or clinched our teeth upon a bullet...
As tormenting pain surrounds,
To black and whiten...
Dimming colorized sights.
How will we handle scandle,
And revelations disbelieved.
How many awakened from deep and peaceful sleep,
Will move forward and aware they are seeking outreach.
And...
Just how many will be amused,
By thoughts of being used and abused by slick trickers!
Soliciting more of their conflicts,
In daylight and on city streets.
How can any of this be handled,
While being fixed quickly...
In the midst of this mix!
If...
Conditions of traditions are still disrespected.
Ignored and neglected.
And ammunition is deficient for the ones who are depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
How will we handle,
The complete absence of fading values.
And the dismissing of those messages,
Through the years.
Those messages missed and blocked,
By closed ears.
How will we handle the loss of standards,
And our way of self righteous life.
And ammunition is deficient for the ones who are depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers,
With selfish lives.
Grim and down and out dreamers,
With selfish lives.
And ammunition is deficient for the ones who are depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
With-selfish-lives!
Grim and down and out dreamers.
With-selfish-lives!
Grim and down and out dreamers.
With-selfish-lives!
Just how will we handle the loss of standards,
And our way of self righteous life.
'How can any of this be handled,
While being fixed quickly...
In the midst of this mix!
If...
Conditions of traditions are still disrespected.
Ignored and neglected? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Leaving New York
It's quiet now
And what it brings
Is everything
Comes calling back
A brilliant night
I'm still awake
I looked ahead
I'm sure I saw you there
You don't need me
To tell you now
That nothing can compare
You might have laughed if I told you
You might have hidden A frown
You might have succeeded in changing me
I might have been turned around
It's easier to leave than to be left behind
Leaving was never my proud
Leaving New York, never easy
I saw the light fading out
Now life is sweet
And what it brings
I tried to take
But loneliness
It wears me out
It lies in way
And all not lost
Still in my eyes
The shadow of necklace
Across your thigh
I might've lived my life in a dream, but I swear
This is real
Memory fuses and shatters like glass
Mercurial future, forget the past
It's you, it's what I feel.
You might have laughed if I told you (it's pulling me apart)
You might have hidden a frown (change)
You might have succeeded in changing me (it's pulling me apart)
I might have been turned around (change)
It's easier to leave than to be left behind (it's pulling me apart)
Leaving was never my proud (change)
Leaving New York, never easy (it's pulling me apart)
I saw the light fading out
You find it in your heart, it's pulling me apart
You find it in your heart, change...
I told you, forever
I love you, forever
I told you, I love you
I love you, forever
I told you, forever
You never, you never
You told me forever
You might have laughed if I told you
You might have hidden the frown
You might have succeeded in changing me
I might have been turned around
It's easier to leave than to be left behind (it's pulling me apart)
Leaving was never my proud (change)
Leaving New York never easy (it's pulling me apart)
I saw the life fading out (change)
Leaving New York, never easy (it's pulling me apart)
I saw the light fading out (change)
Leaving New York never easy (it's pulling me apart)
I saw the life fading out (change)
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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None Will Admit They Knew
It is useless,
With a tinge of foolish ignorance.
To make attempts at snatching back...
Embellished moments from the past.
Those disgruntled would prefer...
Redoing by way of a fast track.
Glimmered with rewritten facts.
Forget that!
The unbearable days facing,
Those recently awakened...
Are traumatically dramatic.
With a hint that scents the air...
There is more of this to spare!
So much truth is out there now.
Remember the days when this was not allowed?
And those who dared to be honest out loud...
Had been declared negative.
And today their efforts should be spotlighted.
These folks should be applauded,
'Before' taking their bows!
It is useless,
With a tinge of foolish ignorance.
To make attempts at snatching back...
Embellished moments from the past.
Those disgruntled would prefer...
Redoing by way of a fast track.
Glimmered with rewritten facts.
And upon asking what they would do,
After going through what is known.
None will admit now,
They knew then what was coming.
Since they spent most of their time,
Ostracizing and shunning...
The ones they chased to noose to trees.
And dangling from a hanging.
While losing their breath...
Trying to get as many who were running,
Away...
To escape those blinded by lunacy.
Only updated today,
To put on display more of their craze!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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For Mel (villanelle)
The one who should have lived has gone so fast.
The old ones, in their dotage, linger on –
they, with no future, live only in the past.
And we who can but sit, dumb and aghast,
scarcely believe that while the sun still shone
the one who should have lived has gone so fast.
Six decades older, surviving to their last
few days or years, together but alone,
they, with no future, live only in the past.
At least she kept on living to the last,
but should have had a future. She has none.
The one who should have lived has gone so fast,
and they, for whom so many years have passed,
are unaware that one they loved is gone.
They, with no future, live only in the past,
mark time until the final trumpet blast,
and never know the respite they have won.
The one who should have lived has gone so fast.
They, with no future, live only in the past.
poem by Paul Hansford
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The Unknown
He says this time we mightn’t last
I’m changed but he says my actions are from the past
I love him
So much so I treat him like a king
Questions left unanswered
Thoughts left unheard
Sometimes I’m taken a back
I’ll continue to be subtle me
Ignore the entities out there because their purpose is to sidetrack
I’ll remember where I stand, smile and continue on my straight journey
I am yet to understand there’s so much only one person can do
With that being said I’ll put my trust in him in us so we could see it true.
In my quarters I shall dwell
And as for us ‘will we make it? ’ only time will tell
poem by Anita Khelawan
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Surprisingly Alive
Happiness is gone, it disappeared
It played me for years making me feel I deserved it
It was positive, and left me an optimist
I saw life through different eyes with happiness
It made me see what cannot be seen
It made me feel feelings I had not bothered to explore
I felt free beneath it's control
I felt invincible in it's arms
Happiness was my everything, it was my soul
It was what kept me moving forward
It was what made me want to live, to breath, to be
Then one day it left, it walked out on me
It left nothing behind but memories I could not have again
It walked out and never looked back
It walked out on me when I needed it the most
It pretended like nothing ever happened between us
Happiness kicked me towards sadness, it shoved me towards it
Then it left after it saw what happened
It got weak and left me alone
It left me crying behind the door
It left me bleeding on the bathroom floor
It left me wishing I had never lived
It left me screaming into my pillow in pain with sadness
It left me walking aimlessly at night with tears crawling down my face
It left me with the words 'I give up' floating above my head
It left me imagining what death would taste like
It left me cold, scared, hopeless, alone
It left...
poem by Mariam Abdelghani
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Now-a-days
Now-a-days
Whenever I sleep
I dream bad dreams
And when I wake up
Anxieties grasp me
Like a python!
Now-a-days
The girls are like
Characters of a movie to me
And my hopes are like
A setting sun!
Now-a-days
Sometimes I think
If I had a time-machine
I would change my past!
Now-a-days
It seems, it's too late
To change even myself!
poem by Asif Andalib
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No more grief
It is humane to cry over split milk
Can not afford for cotton still long for silk
Exactly opposite to the God’s will
No happiness and contentment still
No dead can be brought to life
Same can happen with your dearest wife
One departed means once for all
No use of crying over it and wishing for recall
It is nature’s cycle and inevitable
Even though we may be strong and capable
So many things we can do or attain
But the past events are difficult to maintain
Many might have glorious past
The life would have been easy and spent very fast
They might have lived with colorful situation
They would have wished too for its permanent continuation
It is not easy to forget passed events
They might have passed as fast movement
No one can reel back the time
It has gone off and not remained as prime
It should not have any bearing on future
As no one is confident and very much sure
The past can be buried and present can be pushed
Careful planning for future and not to be rushed
The past is hunting you like grave wound
The is not with you or can never be found
It keeps you restless and does not allow you to rest
There will be no use shedding tears and not trying best
As the cloak can not be pushed back
So the time and fortune can not be brought back too
The lesson must be taken from it to go ahead
Certainly the uncertainty must be over and fears must be allayed
It is advised not to worry so much
Things can not be brought back as such
It is thing of past and must be treated
As by gone is by gone and purpose is defeated
It will be futile attempt to live under fallacy
You will be helpless and live under mercy
You must come out of past shock
As the time go on ticking in clock
It is natural to be alert on your part
It is normal way and no body can depart
It you cling to old things and do not forgo
There won’t be any place left to go
So try to be flexible and possibly adjust
It is very much essential and must
One should remain vigilant all the time and be careful
It is going to be very much useful
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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