Becoming More Difficult To Achieve
When an immature mentality,
Becomes an accepted part of one's personality...
It stunts a growth process,
Observed in an environment...
Fed on the advantages of being irresponsible.
Where childish attitudes are fed and meant,
To circumvent adult behavior.
A behavior once accepted to respect,
But...
Becoming more difficult to achieve,
With not too many today willing to experience...
The affects of expressing a maturity,
From that point of view!
And 'who' but a few today...
Would admit to being 'that' accountable for their actions.
There is a difference in the doing of things,
Interpreted by others to be foolish.
And to know what is done.
Than to do childish things...
And have few notice,
That the age of the 'childish' doer...
Has no comprehension to mention.
And the fault is found to lay on the back,
Of one who 'portrays' to be a fool...
To fit into such a dysfunctional environment.
To be laughed at but has achieved...
Peace of mind others can't seem to find as accessible.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Those of Childish Minds
Those of childish minds,
I had to sever and leave behind.
They no longer fed my views of life.
I had been hatched from adolescence,
Many years ago...
With an expanding insight.
Rehashing redundant deeds done I did...
I could no longer validate,
Those actions of adults that reminded me of kids!
I began to feel imprisoned,
By this useless activity for me I could not envision.
That began to smother my mental growth...
And its clarity,
Beginning to feel remote and provoked.
I had to sever and leave behind,
Those of childish minds.
They found routine attractive to them.
And within me routine was not meant to be.
I am an adult!
And others who are...
Is a rare find today by far.
Leaving me to wonder,
As my aging process flows...
How gracefully can those grow old?
And where do those of childish minds go,
When an age upon them obviously shows!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Get What It Was to Do Done
It has been a long time since I had been a child.
Such a long time,
Those actions I did then...
Were tolerated and condoned by someone else,
Who I respected as an adult and it reflected.
Whether or not I accepted.
And from those who taught me,
The difference as I grew.
I knew when I matured...
So few did that too.
And while they now make excuses,
For everything that they do...
Or not.
Expecting to be dismissed...
Like children throwing tantrums,
And spoiled fits.
Upon others they drop.
To do flip flops...
With something childish,
They can not stop!
I wont put up with it!
No matter how 'old'...
These ageless 'kids' may get!
I'm not going to put up with none of that one bit.
I have learned to be accountable.
And responsibility for my actions...
I take.
I have learned to embrace,
Take hold and move on!
No matter who around me,
May hide or deny...
Any action I may make.
With a mind that is awake.
I might undo it.
But...
Whatever that decision is,
It is done by me to say...
'Something'
I had to do to get what it was to do done!
Whether those of childish minds are left stunned.
To get from point A to B does not require a Phd!
Or a pail and shovel to collect sand.
I have been taught not to be afraid to take a stand!
And...
Get it over to get over it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Aging Excuse Making Children
Difficult and with stress it is,
To be an adult.
And live in an environment surrounded,
By old and aging excuse making children.
Difficult to know it is who is being responsible,
And who to hold accountable...
For the raising of disrespectful kids,
Found totally without initiative or discipline.
It is so hard to maintain one's patience,
And make attempts to explain...
Even to those who appear to have brains,
What the benefit of staying motivated is.
And if one should expose to show concern,
With sincere understanding and comprehension...
One has learned from experience,
This is interpreted as trying to be better than the others.
And eventually...
The one who has grown to be that mature adult leaves,
To keep a nurtured peace of mind...
And those perceptions aging children keep to believe,
Alone for them to condone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tool Of Those Foolish
You've turned your back on me?
Not once but on several occasions.
And...
Am I suppose to be offended?
Or amused.
Which do you prefer?
If you were not so quick to do this,
You would notice...
My happiness is not offended at all,
By your actions.
Nor did it come with your signature on it.
Seriously,
It didn't.
Someone must have told you,
By the doing of this...
You would get my attention,
With an overdose of curioisty?
I will admit this...
I am curious as to why,
Someone would display publicy...
Such childish stupidity.
Whoever it is that advises you,
To do the immature things you do...
I would suggest you request,
Less feeding of fiction.
And more digesting of facts.
You will become surprise...
How much aware of life you will then become.
With the stopping of your doing of that.
Trust me.
There is so much to be gained,
By living life...
Not to be used as a tool,
Of those foolish and so obvious.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Don't Expect An Apology
I have not been a child for so long.
So if my offensive demeanor,
Comes from an adult mind...
Free to express itself from a hiding,
You have yet dealt with.
Don't be stunned.
Or run away in tears!
With a nose you sniff.
Perhaps you should leave the playground,
Of scraped knees, sandboxes
And petty childish gossip.
I have not been a child for so long.
My adventures have been aged on paths...
That have shown me a life,
To live as it is!
And to find myself alone,
Being accountable for my steps!
Sometimes I have experienced regret.
But like all things I have accepted...
I am blessed not to stay in one spot,
To complain of rain that got me wet!
Nor do I get upset...
If thunder, lightening and clouds,
Are temporarily above my head!
I have felt sunshine too many times...
To find a moment of whining as a means,
That have ever attracted my happiness!
A maturity with learning,
Has come to me it seems!
So if my offensive demeanor,
Comes from an adult mind...
Free to express itself from a hiding,
You have yet dealt with?
Don't expect an apology.
I only give those when they are meant!
And I feel that one should be given.
And 'that' no one else gives to me,
To determine!
I'm in this life to live it!
Not to split from it...
When my feelings are hurt!
Or to dig up dirt to spread.
Don't expect an apology!
You 'aint' gettin' one of those.
Not from me!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Strapped To Ineffective Stagnation
When a choice is made,
To dismiss the experience of another...
With feelings that become defensive,
Because someone is perceived to be...
A know it all with a hidden agenda to achieve!
How can anyone blame with a finding of fault,
The one who decides to walk away...
From those who choose,
A brick wall to find and repeatedly stalk.
Without making any attempts to climb.
Leaving behind this kind of mindset,
Is best to do with no need to feed conflicts.
Or a getting upset!
People will or will not eventually learn,
From hitting their heads that are knocked.
As facts accepted,
Prevents their delusions with a stopping.
And a respect is given to a listening,
That develops one's comprehension that starts...
A devotion to understanding.
When that begins,
An ignorance dissipates to end!
Like a collection of dust blowing away with a wind.
And the one who has risen to accept life to wisen,
Refrains from the sharing of rolling childish eyes.
Or tries to compromise a truth,
To argue with those too foolish to remove limitations.
That keeps them strapped to ineffective stagnation.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Unified By Their Nonsense Making
When people become offended,
By someone expressing an identity...
There is an acceptance of an unconsciousness,
That has become collectively defended,
By overwhelming ignorance.
And no one has to go to a mall,
To shop for the proof of the evidence.
A blindness is preferred by those following,
As if addicted sheep...
Down a road where the process of thinking,
Independently or not...
Is regarded as a threat to those easily upset,
By those they overhear communicating...
With a maturity expressed.
And not a sign of an argument building up,
Between them addressed with...
The spewing of cuss words heard.
This is a dangerous environment,
For anyone with intelligence to live in!
People with intelligence are suspicious,
Of making attempts to be 'better'...
Than everyone else.
Especially those,
Who prefer to live their lives...
Down to Earth and as foolishly as possible.
When people become offended,
By someone expressing an identity...
As a choice of one attempting to think,
With common sense...
Is not a recommendation,
For anyone choosing to separate themselves...
With a maturity,
From this kind of accepted behavior...
Chosen by those unified by their nonsense making,
And faithfully tied to rituals...
They neither understand nor respect with depth.
'If it was good enough for my mama and her mama...
And those 'mamas' known before that,
Well...
It is good enough for me!
And I will take that with two hamhocks,
Yams dripping with butter and gravy smothered chops.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Selfish Contradictions
If people are not able to 'see' things
From an expected adult point of view...
Who is responsible for that?
Who held them back from this process?
And why in adulthood...
Their childishness reacts.
It is clearly not attractive.
And those who allowed this lack,
To appear in childish ways.
Did not teach them to reach comprehension...
With a complete understanding,
As immaturity was displayed.
Many will never wake up to 'see'.
No matter who shouts.
Or points this ignorance out.
And others who have been awakened so long,
Have felt the obligation,
To state what they felt to them was then wrong.
And brought that to someone's attention.
They made it a need for it to be mentioned.
A self centeredness was condoned.
In and outside the home.
And this did not end for them.
Resulting in selfish contradictions...
Of what is expected.
Yet reflects upon that,
Which has been neglected!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Free Yourself and Let It Go
Deflated ego?
You think I say the things I do to you,
To deflate your ego?
I am hoping my assistance,
Helps you get rid of it.
And seeing no benefit in being limited.
And that's what your ego has done!
Made you believe you are number one.
And everything you do is correct.
Without a self examination...
Needed to allow you to live your best yet.
Deflated ego?
I may say some things to you that upsets.
I may even criticize something you do,
You accept as your best.
I might even attempt to strip,
That façade you charade.
Since it's your ego that has you 'tripped'...
When you see it for what it is,
You will realize your greatness has nothing to do with it.
In fact it is keeping you,
Inflated with bs and other nonsense.
Deflate your ego?
You think I do that,
From a threat I feel.
To diminish you in some way...
So I would have a greater appeal?
And deflating your ego would give me thrills?
You need to free yourself and let it go.
If you believe that keeping it,
Inspires a greater you with heights to reach!
Free yourself and let it go.
That ego you've got stunts your growth!
Free yourself and let it go.
That ego you've got stunts your growth!
Free yourself and let it go.
That ego you've got stunts your growth!
Stunts your growth!
Stunts your growth!
That ego you've got stunts your growth!
Stunts your growth!
Stunts your growth!
That ego you've got stunts your growth!
Stunts your growth!
Stunts your growth!
That ego you've got stunts your growth!
Stunts your growth!
Stunts your growth!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In The World Of Adulthood
Those remaining,
In the playing of their silly games...
In a sustained immaturity,
Find themselves wishing to undo...
What it is they have done they do,
Once to them it has been acknowledged...
Those remaining,
In the playing of their silly games...
In a sustained immaturity,
Have lost all credibility...
In the world of adulthood,
Where children dressed 'as' adults...
Are not allowed to impress,
With a childish foolishness to be accepted.
'Comeon!
You can't take a joke? '
~I use to accept fools with a suffering done...
Of their antics too.
At one time.
But a seriousness of my life,
And in my mind...
Seemed to have overnight,
Risen to the top of my priority list.
And adults who are mature,
Are the only folks I wish to deal with.
And they today appear difficult to find.
Call it...
A plateau of maturity reached.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A lot of comic actors derive their main force from childish behavior. Most great comics are doing such silly things; you'd say, 'That's what a child would do.'
quote by Gene Wilder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Agitate A Childish Game
Sometimes I am tempted,
To agitate a childish game...
That has been played.
Just to feel and see it done...
To throw it back in someone's face.
But games played like that,
Have long passed their attraction.
Although so many are caught up in them...
With an immaturity that seeks as shown,
An act played like that would offer a satisfaction.
Sometimes I am tempted,
To agitate a childish game...
That has been played.
Just to feel and see it done...
To throw it back in someone's face.
And everyday I witness,
Immature adults with childish minds.
Complaining to others about who they don't like.
With a waste of time whining,
Hoping to 'hook up' with a like mind.
Everyday I seem to witness,
More children who should be adults.
More who have not discovered responsibility.
Or an accountability that brings to them concrete results.
And everyday I witness,
Immature adults with childish minds.
Complaining to others about who they don't like.
With a waste of time whining,
Hoping to 'hook up' with a like mind.
Sometimes I am tempted,
To agitate a childish game...
That has been played.
Just to feel and see it done...
To throw it back in someone's face.
But games played like that,
Have long passed their attraction.
Although so many are caught up in them...
With an immaturity that seeks as shown,
An act played like that would offer a satisfaction.
And as I pass such activities,
I feel blessed to have aged gracefully.
Although I grit my teeth...
Wanting to find a reason and purpose,
To respond to an ignorance...
I do my best,
Not to acknowledge...
With a reaction given that would please.
Thank You, Thank You, Thank You...
Farther.
For the gritting of my teeth,
And the keeping of my peace!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Never Accepted What Their Eyes Have Shown
Something in their heads,
Have them programmed to believe...
They should not respect themselves.
Or expect they can and could achieve.
Something missing in their heads,
Should have connected them to a maturity.
Something that recognized,
Who should be responsible...
And accountable for their activities.
Something in their minds,
Should have made eye contact with themselves.
Something said or they did not see...
A reflection of themselves yet!
One accepted and believed.
Something has left.
And will never return.
Something that should have been taught.
But for them,
Never to be learned!
And that is why they hide from themselves.
They dislike and despise what they see!
And they have never accepted,
What their eyes have shown!
They are afraid to be who they are.
Even alone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Common Sense Is Not Indexed
People believe intelligence comes from books they read.
As if to regurgitate another's observations,
Gives them an equal ability to 'see'.
But those who have wisdom,
Observe their environment...
And those who live in it.
The affects this creates.
And whose thoughts dominate them.
However...
Reading does achieve an expanded comprehension.
If one chooses to pursue a degree...
To produce heightened accepted limitations.
Although if one chooses to explore out of the box.
One has to do that on one's own.
Since detailed documentation for this,
Can be found not!
Common sense is not indexed.
And generally pioneered without standards to block.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Saddled
No one consciously wishes to admit it.
Not publicly anyway.
That many today appear sane and normal.
While taking doses of medication,
That is difficult to detect...
When one is effectively expressing.
Yet hidden is a mind defective.
Mentally crippled and stressed.
Unnoticed but spilled from sick lips,
Are accusations against those innocent.
With wishes to dismiss their own afflictions...
Although seeking to be accepted openly,
While in the process of sharing...
Their saddled addictions.
And soliciting to do this...
As if everyone should agree!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Visuals Betray
Sometimes it becomes a task...
To determine and separate those,
Who are innocently ignorant...
From those who are professional.
This is almost as difficult,
As determining one's maturity...
Based upon age and presence.
Today...
Visuals betray.
If one's intelligence is in question.
There are more children in grown up skins,
Then at any other time.
Even those one would think to ne mature,
Disappoints with a childish reaction.
And some of the most profound comments...
Can be heard coming out of the mouths,
Of pre-school children.
With a matter-of-factness AND eye contact.
Something adults either lost through the process...
Or thought it useless to develop.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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That Keeps Me Reminded
I wont be the one found,
Trying to re-invent new methods...
To exist without expressing insanity.
Not me.
There is too much to adventure.
Plus...
And I am discovering many of them.
There is something about the old ways,
Of doing things...
That keeps me reminded,
It is not that bad to be considered 'nuts'.
And out of touch from the accepted,
'Normalcy'...
Of those things today presented.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Afterschool Games
Have my childish naughty deeds,
Left me to be considered foolish...
And elementary.
By a desire to feel accountable.
I feel mature but not prudish.
Or priggish to excess.
Nor can I be innocently tested.
But my eyes though bright,
I do admit have aged.
And...
Overnight have grown wise.
With a need now I have,
To master my responsibilities.
What on Earth has happened to me?
I would guess that's what this discovery is,
A maturity.
By another description depicted perhaps?
Okay.
Seasoned with the passing of many moons.
Since the 'kids' I once knew as I grew unassuming,
Seem still to be wanting to play...
The same afterschool games.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Having The Nerve to Excuse Thoughtlessness
When something treasured is given.
And it is disrespected and given back...
Do not expect warm greetings to flow,
From the one who felt slighted by that!
Children, perhaps...
Can be excused for this lapse.
However,
Those who wear grown up clothes,
Are 'suppose' to use far more tact!
And when they don't...
They are the first to pretend,
They don't know 'why' or 'what'
Has happened to them.
Proving by their actions...
They are as self centered as children.
Getting what they deserve.
And having the nerve to excuse thoughtlessness.
One mature would not accept this to dismiss.
Being an adult can be a painful process...
Especially when the playground,
Has been abandoned...
By those no longer seeking,
Childish games at recess!
There is a seriousness of life that develops...
That one should achieve to aspire and expect!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Preference For Distance
It is not that I am controlling.
I am self assured.
It is not that I 'think' I know everything.
I've been made aware of watching my own back.
And being accountable for my own actions.
I was extremely young,
When I was introduced to independence.
Even younger than that...
When I discovered I was emotionally alone.
You see...
I was raised not to be babied.
I don't recall being hugged or cuddled.
And the young women that I married...
Were younger still in their minds.
I guess during those days,
We all were trying hard to find roles to play.
Somewhere to feel comfortable enough to stay.
It is not that I am controlling.
I am self assured.
It is not that I 'think' I know everything.
I've been made aware of watching my own back.
And being accountable for my own actions.
My tolerance level sometimes is nonexistent.
And most times I realize I have a preference for distance.
I was not always this way.
It developed with a consciousness,
That became increasingly disgusted...
With the acceptance of deception.
Some may call this 'standoffish' behavior anti-social.
I call it surviving a dysfunctional past I care not to revisit.
And today...
That's all people want to do.
Discuss a past as if those times were the best times lived.
And I already know those are lies!
Why should I live to outdo those who choose to lie?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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