Being Aware And Conscious Of It
I know who has been on my side,
And who hasn't.
That has been my one weakness,
And flaw.
Being aware and conscious of it,
Around those still connected to nonsense...
Will get comments made from those,
Who have yet to identify themselves...
With feelings they project on others.
And the depth of what being human means.
Many have not awakened from their delusions.
And I have never been given the opportunity,
To find my own.
None to pretend I was better than someone else.
'I have never heard you talk about yourself! '
Why should I do that...
If no one has express the interest?
I rather like to hear,
Those perceptions made of me.
They are far more interesting,
Than the reality lived I know.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Betrayal of Humanity
One must be cautiously aware,
Of comments made...
In places infested with those who manifest,
A betrayal of humanity.
The people there are not easily identified.
Some use religious beliefs...
To deceive others to confide.
As pools of sincerity drenches their eyes.
One must be cautiously aware,
Of comments made...
In places infested with those who manifest,
A betrayal of humanity.
It is as if they plot against,
Those who express empathy.
And come to another's defense.
This they suspect as a leakage of weakness.
And they perceive a caring done,
From someone willing to expose...
Their heartfelt feelings.
And a campaign begins to ensure they are demeaned.
One must be cautiously aware,
Of comments made...
In places infested with those who manifest,
A betrayal of humanity.
The people there are not easily identified.
Some use religious beliefs...
To deceive others to confide.
As pools of sincerity drenches their eyes.
And a campaign begins to ensure they are demeaned.
Wizards of deception are trained.
And will do their best to protect delusions.
While attacks upon them,
Will be viciously claimed.
And a campaign begins to ensure they defame.
One must be cautiously aware,
Of comments made...
In places infested with those who manifest,
A betrayal of humanity.
These pests are all over the place.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Those of Actions and Less Words
Anyone can make comments,
About feelings meant.
Feelings claimed to have!
But kept in one's mind,
Where that time has been spent!
However...
Those of actions and less words,
Impress with images lasting.
And it is the consistency of their thoughts and deeds...
That keeps one in someone's mind,
As one that can be believed without doubt or question.
Too many people today express in public flair,
How deep their loyalty for another is...
And so profess what is kept,
But not truthfully there to be addressed.
With confessions made to others,
As if this passes a test.
While it is the things done they do...
That disproves a conviction spoken.
And not in their hearts to followed through.
Although dramatized displays are created,
To show how someone by another,
Has been made to become upset.
This is straight from a 101 Beginner's Acting Manual.
And those on the receiving end,
Are not tricked to be fooled by deceptions that begin.
Feelings they have are invested too!
And these feelings for them are protected to defend.
Not tossed about in meaningless conversations.
Conversations to impress but without a depth connected.
Anyone can make comments,
About feelings meant.
Feelings claimed to have!
But kept in one's mind,
Where that time has been spent!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Thank You
I express my thanks to all,
Who offer their comments...
That are analytical,
With indepth perceptions.
As writers we all are 'connected' to what we create.
At times we assess with critique we feel is best,
To uncover 'identities' we believe, infact...
Are the writers' personalities.
And most times 'conceive'...
What we read leads us,
To the core of a writers' mentality.
I express my thanks to all,
Who offer their comments...
That are analytical,
With indepth perceptions.
And many times humorous,
That ushers the writer,
To incorporate and open...
Other selected directions.
I thank you!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Entertained With Ideals to Match
I do understand,
The lost of interest in reality.
And I can sympathize with those,
Who have chosen to manifest...
And let grow their delusions.
Those who have dealt with the reality of things...
Have seemed the most disrespected,
For professing the obvious.
While those deluded,
Have always been detached.
Preferring to be entertained with ideals to match.
The mavericks and the nonconformists,
Have long lived lives referred to as fools.
And few of them seem saddened...
To have been separated with a peace of mind,
For them that soothes.
I do understand,
The lost of interest in reality.
And I can sympathize with those,
Who have chosen to manifest...
And let grow their delusions.
Although I do wish,
They someday will find solutions...
For their mental conflicts!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Do The Hanging 'In' There
Let me tell 'you' somethin'
I appreciate your comments,
And from the place in your head
With assessments made.
But
You do the hanging 'in' there
You the one hold your head up and be strong.
Whatever those perceptions you perceive me to be
From an outer appearance you find important to judge.
Aint' nothing here you see weak about me.
I am aware of the wrapping done to my package.
I lead.
I do not follow.
And I may do this with tears.
With acceptance.
Not with misery.
There is not one step I've made in my life,
That occurred with dependable and/or reliable
Assistance done from anyone,
Who replaced my challenges and obstacles
With vanilla smoothies!
My faith kept my pace.
And when I awaken each day I am grateful.
I pray for strength and I get it.
And I do know from where my strength comes.
Nothing I've done has a confused moment about it!
Ain't nothing here you see,
Weak about me.
I appreciate your comments,
And from the place in your head
With assessments made.
But
You do the hanging 'in' there.
You the one hold your head up and be strong.
Whatever those perceptions you perceive me to be
From an outer appearance you find important to judge.
I don't take the time to do that to anyone.
I am here to do to get done.
Not to critique those tasks given I do to complete.
Or take the time to observe who is observing me.
You do the hanging 'in' there.
You the one hold your head up and be strong.
I know who I am
With eyes clear and direction taken!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Watching The Grass Grow
Incorrect perceptions,
Are imposed and projected...
By those with unchanged beliefs.
And fixed to satisfied stagnation.
Or impressions made,
Through assumptions placed
Upon imaginations.
Watching the grass grow,
May be someone's ambition.
In fact...
What is the scientific purpose for grass?
I don't think I've ever heard that asked.
Have you?
And minds like these are difficult to replace.
Since so many are deluded,
By that which does not exist.
But wished.
And observing this against a reality known...
As shown to be accepted by those conscious,
Becomes clear why there is much conflict of interest.
And a need for so many to forever play,
The cowboys against the indians.
The good against the bad.
And the ugly...?
Well,
We do all have our missions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Still No Insight Comes
...and you say you live with no perceptions?
Everyday.
You pray with faith and still no insight comes.
Remaining blinded by things and what opportunity means.
To you.
And what does it mean...
To you?
A blessing?
An ability to maintain the feeding of your greed?
With the need of a blessing?
As if God specializes in the satisfying of your desires!
Maybe that is why many have grown tired,
Of the leeching done by those lurching in churches.
Searching for a soul to squander.
Leaving those dens of sin behind in droves...
For something that is far more spiritually connected.
And a lot less scandal ridden with gossiped conversations.
'Lawd, chile...
You don' said a mouth full.
But I didn't hear it that way from Brother Lucious.
And he said he had heard it from Sister Smith.'
...and you say you live with no perceptions?
Everyday.
You pray with faith and still no insight comes.
Perhaps it is there...
Waiting for you to qualify it with a price tag!
Since that's your 'bag'!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Wished In Retrospect
How legitimate can contributions,
Of a poet made can be?
If comparisons are made to another poet,
Who spoke from a time...
When poets expressed themselves,
From a different philosophy...
That occurred in a past be gone history.
I always accepted poetry to be commentaries,
Of that which depicted activities existing.
But there are those who today compare,
A cobbledstoned road of yesteryear...
To a highway today needing constant updating.
Since those who travel on it...
Have mentioned little interest,
Of using a covered horsedrawn wagon!
And most people afraid,
Will always attempt to validate nonsense.
Since this nonsense becomes romanticized...
As a time when exquisite etiquette was expressed,
As wished in retrospect...
By those whose ancestors were highly illiterate.
And lived amongst themselves in a welcomed ignorance.
And some like me are today told...
Our poetry is not European,
Therefore the quality of it...
Will never achieve exquisiteness.
And I sit to compose caring less,
About comments made by those...
Who have chosen themselves,
As images of correctness...
When generations of them,
Have chosen to digress!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Should Get More Involved
You should get more involved.
'In the doing of what? '
Well...
In the uh...er...uh...hmmm.
The...uh...
'I've already done that.
That's why I've stopped wasting my time.
Now I do something far more satisfying.'
That sounds interesting.
What is it that you do?
'I leave people looking for escapes,
From reality to charade delusions...
Alone.
I find it fits my personality.
And besides...
I got tired of debating on what side,
Of a nonaccepting of a reality I was on!
And the choices remained unchanged.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pretend a Disconnection Has Been Made
What we talk about...
Is that more important,
Than those feelings we feel?
What we do to ourselves and others.
Should we continue to excuse this?
As a way of life we choose?
A tolerated suppression,
Has led many to express unhappiness.
As if this was a gift to expect.
UNTIL 'all' of our efforts are made,
To improve our outlooks, funky moods and attitudes...
We can choose to do what some still do.
Strut away with lips shut.
Put stuck up butts on high shoulders.
And 'pretend' a disconnection,
Has been made!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Guess Who Will Find THAT Offensive?
My comments offend?
Your skin must be very thin.
If my depictions are available,
To be observed...
And your eyes have been fixed on sweets.
While you couldn't get enough,
Of those delusions fed...
To quickly eat of that 'funky stuff'.
My comments once made,
Freely and unafraid...
Will eventually be all up in your head,
To repeat back to me.
And guess who will find THAT offensive?
People like you who now wish,
They had listened and not passed judgement.
Have you ever heard the term,
'It Is Never Too Late? '
Look around you.
What time have you been waiting for to arrive?
That has long been sitting to visit.
And right before your eyes undisguised.
I didn't welcome that.
You did!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Is Not
Conscious of structure.
Conscious of order, law and discipline.
Conscious of those to whom is given respect.
Conscious of tradition and ideals...
And the effect this has on one's mindset.
Conscious of a faith that goes much deeper,
Than the faking of an acceptance of rituals.
Conscious of life,
And the limits of it lived.
Conscious are those,
Who are aware that this life...
Is much more than it is perceived,
It is!
Since it is not what we have been led to believe.
And a consciousness of those conscious of this,
Is what has been received.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Narrative Today
My narrative today focuses on this...
A wish to meet more people of mental depth.
And aware of it.
The ones with identity and not in fear,
Of upsetting others with a correct pretentiousness.
I would like to meet those who have minds connected,
To something else besides themselves.
Or flaws and blemishes of others.
Maybe it is my aging process I am dealing with.
I listen more intently to every word not to miss.
And it seems today I overhear many expressing nonsense.
I can not believe these minds are free.
And they have chosen to be empty of thought,
With a seriousness to talk about nothing but materialism...
Sex and drugs and who cheats on who with a doing of it,
Just to use newly advertised lubricants.
My narrative today focuses on this...
A wish to meet more people of mental depth.
And aware of it.
There 'has' to be other ears and eyes observing this to witness.
And maybe they are like I am...
Looking on from the sidelines but keeping their distance.
And I understand this perfectly.
But it would be nice to have it validated by more who do agree!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Why Do You Talk
Why do you talk, why do you waste time
Saying the same old thing, it should be a crime
You never listen, instead you stammer
As though youre interesting, and full of glamour
As though youre interesting, and full of glamour
Why do you talk so much, why dont you shut up
You have nothing to say, you lack drama
Its the same old thing, youd like to know why
Who made the earth move, who made the sky high
Who made the earth move, who made the sky high
Who made your blood red, who made you think thoughts
Who made you breathe a breath, tell me why do you talk
Oh, tell me why do you talk, tell me why do you talk
Tell me why do you talk
Why do you always talk, why do you make sound
Why dont you listen, why do you talk so much
Why dont you listen, why do you talk so much
Why dont you shut up, why dont you shut up
Why dont you shut up, why do you talk so much
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yesterday When I 'Had' Patience
One moment, please.
I think we have a bad connection.
Let me repeat what you just said...
Since I 'know'
I did not hear you clearly.
You expect me,
To tolerate and put up with 'your' nonsense?
To quietly sit and listen to the issues you have,
With your family, their families...
Your neighbors' comments made to you.
And...
My recommendations you dislike.
Because I am not 'sounding' as if I am on your side?
AND when I seek 'your' candid advice...
You find it convenient not to be available,
Because I take up your time?
And you tell me...
I should find less of 'me' in my mind?
Hold up!
I think this connection has crossed the line.
And needs to cease.
If you hear dial tone...
Do not call me back.
From you I am seeking some deep quality peace.
Listen,
Yesterday when I 'had' patience...
And hear this very carefully.
I gave you time and I remember that.
Today I have none!
You have exhausted your free minutes.
And I suggest you kick the cat or 'something'.
But don't bother me.
Find less of 'you' in your mind!
(Click! Conversation over with)
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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From The Moment You Awakened
From the moment you awakened,
To face a new day.
As fresh as the leaving,
Of scented morning dew.
It was you who made decisions,
To address as you presented yourself...
With choices you alone made.
From the moment you awakened,
Until you made accusations...
To place blame on someone else,
For that which you alone chose to do...
Is to say to anyone within listening distance,
From the moment you awakened...
To face the day,
You premeditated to find excuses to make.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Not One To Encourage A Response, However...
People in hiding,
With beliefs their unspoken intentions...
'Should' be understood.
Are finding themselves,
Alone with their misguided perceptions.
And there is just too much evidence,
That immaturity accepted to nourish...
Flourishes the environment,
With the presence of too many latrent fools...
Doing the best they can to escape,
From the accountability of their actions.
And people blame the children,
For the boisterous disrespect and ignorance.
I am not one to encourage a response,
However...
Can the minds of today,
Address the depth of a shallowness expressed.
And accept this as a reflection of themselves...
As if to take pride in the reality of their social dysfunctions.
And pretend this existence is clear and free of normalcy.
I am not one to encourage a response,
However...
Hasn't it been time that those delusional find,
Truth in themselves...
As a gift and nothing one has to fear!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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As If Invisible
There is nothing done,
In front of their faces...
Or heard coming from behind their backs,
Can they say with convincing eye contact...
They were not aware of or did not know.
They can,
However...
Name it something else,
To leave as is...
But it is as it shows.
By the ones awakened,
Without their minds closed.
If they with their minds closed,
Had been hit by a truck...
And could not get up,
They would lay there and not be helped.
As if invisible,
By everyone else...
With familiar and similar mindsets.
From Sunrise to Sunset.
But if they are pricked and felt a pinch,
They would then exclaim...
Someone has made an attempt,
To threaten their lives.
Even though they could not identify...
Who or why the doer would do this.
Although they then would know...
Something was felt to complain about.
Something they still could not describe.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What Self Righteousness Is Blessed
Don't hand me that fight for honor nonsense,
Needing to be won and done by anyone...
With a killing on a battlefield no one shuns.
When hunger and homelessness,
Greets to welcome...
Heros with no place to go, who suffers?
What self righteousness is blessed,
When nothing else is left to give...
Except the expectation of hollow praises.
And the sacrifices made,
Are seldom proven by those who express...
Such great interest in protecting peace.
Who's peace is so valued,
They would neglect with a consciousness...
Those who give their lives to protect it?
And...
With such obnoxious pretense,
They are entitled to feed upon their lofty delusions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Honesty and the Depth Of It
Some allow their projections,
To become influence by their perceptions.
And when they project a perception incorrect...
They find themselves in situations,
Not knowing what to believe or accept.
Since honesty and the depth of it,
They have yet to respect or digest its presence.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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