Before the Rage Is Craved
It is not with content,
One of notoriety first succeeds.
It is with a marketing of popularity,
That is achieved.
Most times after a presence leaves.
There are some like The Beatles,
Who arrived with a look.
Elvis swiveled his hips!
And Michael did that...
With dance steps and music hooks.
A few poets like Maya and Langston Hughes,
Are gifted in ways other writers attempt to display.
Plagiarize and abuse.
But content alone is not comprehended and known.
Until time allows those to digest...
What at first had been rejected.
And acceptance sometimes,
Occurs through negligence.
Before the rage is craved!
And people are amazed what they discover,
Under their noses.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
It, Is...Not!
I am not surprised when I hear,
That many readers do not write.
Nor am I shocked,
To learn those who write...
Do that day and night.
Those who make requests,
For other writers to read their 'stuff'...
Seek approval and acceptance.
But when does that get to become too much?
I've said this so many times and I'll say it again,
When one creates from their own inspiration...
A commitment to just 'that',
Provides a lifelong motivation and a loyalty unmatched.
When one writer becomes offended,
By another who is experienced.
Has not yet comprehended the time involved,
To produce from one's mind...
That another perceives is easily invented.
It,
Is...
Not!
If I ever got a letter,
From Maya, Edgar or Langston Hughes...
I'd be shocked by that!
Believing they would have nothing else to do,
But read Shakespeare, Robert Frost, Emily Dickenson.
And...
Well,
My work too.
It,
Is...
Not easy.
This writing business.
Especially when one seeks,
To be critiqued.
And upon request.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cha Cha
Cha cha twist me neatly.
Swiveled hips in a rhythmicness,
So erotic.
I wish to stop and stare and sigh,
At thighs that dip...
As I reverse and lead.
Cha cha twist me neatly.
With a 1-2-3 right foot front.
Step 1-2-3 back.
I wish to stop and stare and sigh,
At thighs that dip...
As I reverse and lead.
Swiveled hips in a rhythmicness,
So erotic.
Cha cha twist me neatly.
'I thought you said you never did this before? '
The dance or the attempt at staring?
Note:
Cha Cha Dance History
Originally known as the Cha-Cha-Cha. Became popular about 1954. Cha Cha is an offshoot of the Mambo. In the slow Mambo tempo, there was a distinct sound in the music that people began dancing to, calling the step the 'Triple' Mambo. Eventually it evolved into a separate dance, known today as the Cha Cha.
The dance consists of three quick steps (triple step or cha cha cha) and two slower steps on the one beat and two beat.
Courtesy:
Centralhome.com
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I believe that the brain has evolved over millions of years to be responsive to different kinds of content in the world. Language content, musical content, spatial content, numerical content, etc.
quote by Howard Gardner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not Into It Like That
What makes anyone believe,
The words poets decide to select and pick...
Is as easy as a wish for it to happen.
And...
A breeze!
Thoughts like that use to get to me.
But not anymore.
Usually people who express those opinions,
Have no idea the process taken to create.
And some believe all that is needed,
Is a quick review and a rating done of what is produced.
'Do you mind reading what I do then giving it a rate?
I've done that for you.
Let me know what you think.
You are valued! '
I wouldn't mind doing that at all.
But too many experienced grief before notoriety.
And when that notoriety came...
Many respected writers and poets experienced ostracism first.
Loneliness, addictions and...death!
I'm not into it like that.
To stick with this artform is a risk of emotions.
And if one is dedicated and devoted...
The time given it will expose that!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Took Awhile
I'm not trying to be Maya,
Or better her best being Miss Angelou.
Or digest Langston's treasures...
To outdo the views of Mister Hughes.
But poets who can show emotions,
With insights known isn't easy to pursue.
These are the ones,
Who can do it making sense.
Inspirations they are...
With a knack to pen a clarity,
Once covered and thickly dense.
I am not trying to be a James Baldwin,
Or write the way an August Wilson can.
Or Tyler Perry...
Or a Robert Frost!
But like most writers who do write well,
Some are oft times 'on'
And most times 'off'!
A Stephen King I couldn't touch...
He's too much in deep mystery!
And Imamu Baraka is so totally profound.
I remember meeting him,
When LeRoi Jones had me spellbound!
I like things that motivate.
That keeps a process strong!
I like the fact that I'm aware of Nature...
And the 'rights' of human beings,
Who have been 'wronged'.
I can sing and rejoice...
And love the sounds of other voices!
All day long,
If that is my choice.
It took me a while to read Lawrence.
I read Larry too long...
And he got in my way!
Today I say it,
With words I can only say.
And like the others mentioned here...
It is clear what was said remains,
In our minds to stay.
With messages that sustains! !
Yes...
It took awhile for me to read Lawrence.
Reading him is not as easy,
Since he reflects these times that change!
And depicting them quick before they slip...
To fade...
In a World where attentions
Are focused just for minutes..
Then in seconds drift away!
It took awhile to read Lawrence.
A task I asked for with uncertainty...
But with certainty I've stayed,
And have learned to embrace him,
With double entendres...
Ambiguously delivered.
In my aging days!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Difference That Could Be Made
Notoriety and fame is all relative.
If a message has content.
How that message is delivered,
And by who should not matter.
Or who 'influential' is in support of it!
However,
Many who miss 'messages'...
Often miss the point of them.
It should not matter if someone has notoriety,
If a message with content is delivered to be accepted.
Although...
To many of us this makes a difference.
And a difference that could be made,
Skips away from our comprehension.
'But...
WHO are 'you' to know this?
And 'why' should it be of 'our' concern? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bess
A dress that speaks of life,
The frayed edges hang like bar codes
Spelling out her past.
Bess was content.
Her flowing auburn hair a distant memory,
Now replaced by black and white,
The colours of her age.
Bess was content.
Half way down her nose her glasses sat,
With flour coated fingerprint etched lenses
Betraying this morning's cooking
Bess was still content
Soft slippers now where once heels were worn,
Her stoop a testament to such fashion
The hips a little broader now,
Bess was still content.
Here she was, all that she could be,
A wife, a mother, a nurse, a listener, a lover
But all the time that dress said more than that
Bess was still content
Then in the background voices came to life,
Such laughter only youngsters make,
The door flies open 'Mum we are home! '
Bess just smiled that smile... so content.
poem by Dave James
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Without Lip Or Sucking Of Tongue
Of course I know 'how' I arrived.
And the length of time it took,
For anyone to notice my presence.
Although it was not my presence,
Or reason why...
That I began this journey to be noticed.
I was much too young.
Like a puppy first seeing its tail for the first time...
And curious as to where it came from.
Who knew?
I didn't!
Until I began following an attraction,
That seemed always in my mind.
Of course I 'know' how I arrived.
I first heard my voice.
And my parents noticed it.
I learned if I used it in certain ways,
They were there.
I was a baby them.
Then I connected my voice to words.
I was in awe that letters were attached.
And those letters attached used in different ways,
Made those words I said more or less effective.
Then I began to see those letters change,
As I began to print them by hand slowly.
I was amazed! .
Then I discovered certain words I shouldn't say!
I should never have been told that.
Because even today...
I will use those same words to chase people away.
Of course I know 'how' I arrived.
And I used a lot of cussing along the way.
Trust me.
But I stopped when it was pointed out to me,
I 'seemed' to have had more intelligence than that.
And whoever said that to me,
Had no clue as to how curious I was.
'Ma?
What's intelligence? '
~Someobody who asks too many questions.
And is about to get on my last nerve.~
'You talking about me? '
~Are you or are you not in my face? ~
'Why can't I ask you anything,
Before it's turned into a test? '
~And if you want to pass,
You know what to do.
Without lip or sucking of tongue.
You got that, mister? ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Negro Dancers
'Me an' ma baby's
Got two mo' ways,
Two mo' ways to do de Charleston!'
Da, da,
Da, da, da!
Two mo' ways to do de Charleston!'
Soft light on the tables,
Music gay,
Brown-skin steppers
In a cabaret.
White folks, laugh!
White folks, pray!
'Me an' ma baby's
Got two mo' ways,
Two mo' ways to do de
Charleston!'
poem by Langston Hughes
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We Negro writers, just by being black, have been on the blacklist all our lives. Censorship for us begins at the color line.
quote by Langston Hughes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's Like A Truth Versus Nonsense
A content achieved,
Can not compete...
With envy and jealousy.
That conquest has been in motion,
For quite some time now.
It's like a...
Truth versus nonsense kind of thing.
And when minds are focused,
Upon mediocrity to sell...
It will be marketed and done well,
To minimize the effectiveness...
Of content and its influence.
It's like a...
Truth versus nonsense kind of thing.
Eliminating an obvious contrast not admitted.
With consequences to ultimately face to pay.
And sacrificing what is best to appease.
To forget the original concept,
Is an acceptance considered as a normal process.
It's like a...
Truth versus nonsense kind of thing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dance, Dance Everywhere!
Dance, Dance Dance
everywhere,
When I look at the sky,
I see the clouds dance
Into steps of winds
My heart dance when I watch clouds dance!
How it can make me dance?
Without any tune or beats,
Its own beats me my heart dance.
Some strange tune it sings in silence and dance!
When I see at shore of ocean waves that dance,
Some birds in sky fly and dance,
On the waves boats that to the tune of waves, dance,
My mind sing lyricless
music to which it dance!
When I walk along the beach,
The headless crown of palm trees with wide open hands dance,
Watching them dance trees start their dance!
When I on countryside, green paddy fields dance,
Looking at them, the bird on the branch dance!
When walk along, trees with fruits dance,
And to its own rustling music, leaves dance!
When I walk in the park,
Plants with flowers dance!
Looking at the graceful dance flowerless dance,
When I move on street, hope and hap dance,
Seeing at them even hopeless an hapless to dance!
Smile on faces with hope dance,
Wrinkles on the forehead of hapless dance!
When I look at people in them mind dance,
In some happiness dance,
In some sorrowfulness dance,
Some I found with desperation dance
In some their laziness dance,
In some saintliness dance,
Most of the time wickedness dance,
And in some other dreams that dance!
Success that dance with some,
Distress that in unsuccessful dance,
In some hearts mercy that dance
Together with love and kindness dance!
Some where cookedness dance,
And some where innocence dance,
In every nation either hunger dance,
Or in people's mind anger that dance,
Either corruption in corrupt mind dance,
Or those systems on the heart of people dance!
Dance, dance, dance everywhere,
It is time for my soulful dance,
If you see somewhere some other type of dance
Just sing it dance
and let no other see the pain in your heart dance
Hide it with that unfailable lips on which smile may dance
Dance, Dance, dance,
Tune your steps with eternal dance!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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I've never personally criticized anyone else's music, but I know that the public's real problem is not the music I make but the perception that I play simple music for money only and for the notoriety and to increase my popularity.
I have discovered in life that there are ways of getting almost anywhere you want to go, if you really want to go.
quote by Langston Hughes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heart and Soul
You are my heart and soul,
music playing in my mind,
the rythem of rock and roll,
we dance together as one kind.
melting into each other,
the others body we discover.
Music and dance
a ritual of romance,
hearts beating entwined,
thoughts of you in mind.
the tender touch of hands
like the caress of falling sand.
Of us,
the heat,
wash over like waves,
the music, its beat,
Our hips joined, sway.
in dance, through the day.
RG/NB
poem by Robert Green
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Maya Angelou: A Phenomenal Woman?
Me thinks much ink
has been spilt
over the poem;
‘Phenomenal Woman’
by Maya Angelou.
Me thinks it is time
I stuck my oar in
had my say;
hopefully in a far
less controversial way.
So I ask all these supposedly
expert men who
read read read her poem;
then see red red red
who is Maya Angelou?
A Phenomenal Woman?
And to a man these reds do not know?
Do they also not know
that it is personal choice;
which poems poets writers we like?
All have differing tastes
all are entitled to their opinion!
Have they never heard
Maya Angelou recite one of her poems?
It brings a smile to my lips my eyes.
I receive Maya’s performance with pride?
It seems no one nobody does it better?
So again I ask do you know?
Who is Maya Angelou?
A Phenomenal Woman?
Wow what odds would you give
on Maya Angelou, a young
African-American girl
ever achieving?
Phenomenal success?
Maya Angelou had her baby
at age sixteen?
She left home at age sixteen
as a single mother?
This is a very hard road in which seeds
of success could never be sown?
At age three and a half
Maya’s parents divorced.
Her dad sent her to Stamps
Arkansas, to live with
her paternal grandmother.
Four years later, her dad
sent her to San Francisco,
to live with her mother.
Marguerite Annie Johnson
experienced legally enforced
racial discrimination.
As a way of life as a young girl
in the American South.
What odds now on ever achieving
phenomenal success?
What happened to Maya
at age seven eight;
God forbid I will not mention.
When Maya heard
her mother’s boyfriend;
had been killed by an uncle.
Maya felt “her words
had killed the man” and Maya;
fell into a world silent.
Maya “did not speak for five years”
until age thirteen;
reunited with her mother.
Did trauma cause mute Maya
“to go mute for five years? ”
Maya recalled, “I thought if I spoke,
my mouth would just issue out
something that would kill people,
randomly, so it was better not to talk.”
I shall not recite in detail
the story of Maya Angelou’s life.
Best you read it for yourself!
Therefore a brief synopsis;
age sixteen supporting herself her son
working as a waitress cook;
already given up talents for music,
dance, performance and poetry.
Then rebirth as phoenix a phenomenal life!
Time you look her Maya read all about it!
It reads like a suspense novel visual screenplay!
This is phenomenal women exceptional lady!
I shall never know Malcolm X; Dr. Martin Luther King!
So who is this phenomenal African-American women?
“Heralded as a great voice of contemporary literature”!
Maya actress, author, civil rights activist, director, educator,
magazine editor, playwright, poet, producer, singer, song writer...
“three Grammy Awards for her spoken word albums”
Maya Angelou has been awarded over forty honorary degrees!
Other honors include the Women in Film Crystal Award (1992)
Humanitarian Contribution Award (1997)
Inducted into the National Women's Hall of Fame in (1998)
Among Writer's Digest's “Top 100 Best Writers of the 20th Century” (1999)
Presidential Medal of Arts (2000) , John Hope Franklin Award (2006) , Mother Teresa Award (2006) and the Lincoln Medal (2008) .
International Civil Rights Walk of Fame in (2008)
are but a few of Maya’s honours Maya’s many accolades.
Therefore in genuine sincere respect
I bow the head bend the knee.
And to these critic men these reds
I have but one thing to decree.
What God has seen fit to raise up
let no man attempt to tear down in stupidity.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Musical Sound Is Forever!
Music everybody loves in the world;
Birds are loved mainly for their music;
Animals and plants too love music!
I have seen plants growing by music;
I have seen snake dancing by music!
Nature, music and book occupy all;
Without them life will be a real bore;
Life interest depends on their influence!
I have seen people with ear phones
Enjoying music when walking or travelling!
Music is beautiful order of sound we hear,
Which is produced by musical instruments.
Sweet voice of singers with music is divine!
I have seen many listening to TV Music often;
I have seen all dancing by pop singers’ music!
Gentleman Jim Reeves moves many hearts;
Pop King Elvis Presley still entertains fans;
The Beatles move the hearts still to divinity;
Michael Jackson has created music history;
Ricky Martin has made president dance too!
Who is there not moved by music in the world?
Essence of Dharma is Lord’s Song, Bhagavad-Gita!
Spirituality is developed by Lord’s music in Nature;
Musical preaching of Lords have become holy books
That rules the heart, mind and soul of all in the world!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Social Bankruptcy
As a result of their convictions,
With a desire to obtain a social status.
One they grabbed at when that opportunity arrived!
Some have earned those sought titles.
To have lives prioritized with a guarantee...
They have what it takes.
And have 'made it' in 'this' society!
But...
What is it have they really achieved?
Sacrificing their skills and knowledge,
To improve humanity?
I'm sure 'somewhere' under the barrage of bad news,
Those images are highlighted,
To provide moralistic inspiration viewed and as seen.
What is it have they really achieved?
Honestly...
Let's share!
An ability to say,
They have a good credit rating...
That promises to stay that way?
To keep their nouveau riche noses,
Stuck high in polluted air?
What is it have they really achieved?
A reflection of a greed,
That suppresses those in need.
And choosing to bask in attitudes,
As superficial representatives...
Doing what those with a false sense of self do?
And...
What they have accomplished does succeeds.
From their point of view.
Although,
What is reflected...
Is their connection,
To a widespread and unprecedented failure...
Unconsciously digested.
What is it have they really accomplished?
When so many with degrees have been qualified...
To do,
What?
Prove a gluttony that leaves all to bleed?
What is it have they really accomplished?
A greater sense of ignorance that sits on the edge,
Of a once caring humanity that has become magnetizied...
To social bankruptcy.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Music Fills Our Souls
Music fills our souls,
so we can keep dancing,
out win the devils steps,
out dance him once and for all,
Music fills our souls,
the notes that are applied,
the sounds they project,
refill our hope, strength and desire,
so we may dance on,
this crazy marathon,
Music fills our souls,
it give us cause to rejoice,
a reason to keep the steps in stride,
a feeling of serenity,
a vital component to survive,
Music fills our souls,
we know we could not do this alone,
so we asked our gifted friends,
to help us in our quest,
Music fills our souls,
our friends came along,
put the melody in the air,
the passion in our souls,
Music fills our souls,
by the love and grace,
our friends have shown,
Music fills our souls,
Debbie Nicholson copyright@2009
poem by Debbie Nicholson
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Forget the Unassuming Humble Approach
There is no such thing as acquiring a quiet notoriety!
None done that goes unnoticed.
It can not be down played by the one who achieves it!
Forget the unassuming humble approach.
This reeks of a perceived conceit.
One hidden underneath an acknowledgement,
Of a self containment.
And folks with pretentions love to have others believe...
A notoriety given,
Depends on them!
And their willingness to notice,
What has already been shown and known!
And then there are those,
Who choose to appease others...
By making foolish comments:
'I'm just like everyone else.
Except...
I am exceedingly brilliant! '
This may work for precocious children.
The ones thought of as adorable and cute.
And could count to ten
Before they were nine months old!
You know the ones?
Appearing on Oprah!
Held by their nannies.
And praised by parents traveling abroad...
But keeping in touch via satellite!
OR...
Those gifted convicted felons,
Always seem to get a book deal
However...
And this is straight up 'info'!
If you happen to be a blackman,
WITHOUT a basketball...
That is palmed and dribbled with one hand.
And unable to perform comedy,
sing 'or' tap dance...
Any notoriety successfully achieved,
With an equal amount of blood, sweat and tears...
Does not come easily,
For one who has proven to be more than deserving.
People associate this with 'good luck'!
And not applied work.
Especially if one has no church affiliation!
Or motives that can be clinically dissected,
With suspicion.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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