Better Than Butter Spread On Toast
Entire belief systems are crumbling.
Faster than a turned up nose,
Can rise above pretensions.
Or the dust collecting,
On parked gas guzzling SUV's.
Not to mention those who had no clue,
Their lifestyles would evaporate...
Quicker than morning dew!
And the ones who thought themselves better,
Than butter spread on toast.
Are finding their suburban nests...
Support lines of signs,
Declaring them abandoned...
Having been foreclosed.
Leaving the many who are homeless...
With decades of no food to eat!
Trying to maintain their tolerance,
For those moaning and groaning...
Over valuables once 'owned'
Having been dumped upon the streets.
And that pendulum swinging...
Makes a full and complete sweep!
'You could at least express some sympathy.'
I am trying to do that now!
But my consciousness wont allow me.
Since my days of being ostracized and exiled...
I have learned to walk humbly.
With everything including my history stripped...
I've observed all the nonsense and remained proud!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Abruptly Turned Off
When the pieces are forced to fit...
With a bothersome puzzle,
Now being resisted.
Become a wasted adventure.
Will those doing it ultimately discover...
For them this has been no benefit?
And all conflicts they have created,
Have finally come to an end.
While those of a higher consciousness,
Await patiently for the ones to lose what they've done.
With minds that are finding,
What they sought will not be won!
And,
All signs they ever had any consciousness...
Any at all,
That had existed...
Vanishes!
As if a switch...
That had enabled all of their nonsense,
Had abruptly turned them off.
To be out.
For good.
Never again,
To have them and their deeds turned back on.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Philadelphia Revised
The sad images of Philadelphia popped out of my eyes today
And I could see the streets of Philadelphia where the homeless sleeps
And freeze to death
While Politicians, doctors, Dentists, lawyers, teachers, and nurses get rich
Day by day
But the homeless freeze to death in the streets of Philadelphia and even die
But I have to ask all of you fellow americans where is your heart?
And doesn't charity starts at home first?
Don't you have anything at home that you could give away to the Homeless so they could have something either to wear or to eat?
Why can't we feed the homeless?
I can't understand you fellow Americans?
Please put yourself in their shoes for a day and try to picture what do they Have to go throw everyday
Is it right for the homeless to sleep in the streets and freeze and eventualy Die in the streets of Philadelphia?
Would you fellow Americans go few days without eating?
I don't think so
Why should the homeless that lives in the streets of Philadelphia starve?
Fellow Americans it is time to think about others and not just yourself Because others live In America just like you
Fellow Americans do you have a heart?
Fellow Americans did you ever learned to share what you have with Others?
Fellow Americans America is a sad world because we waste 98% of our Food at home, restaurants, and supermarkets
And all that wasted food ends up in the dump
It is so ashame and so sad at the same time
But the truth is that we are running out of food
And there is not enough food to feed anyone in America
But the cost of food keeps going up
Because we have to pay the American farmers who plants the food and Transport the food to the supermarkets
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Cups of Sugar
As the dawning of truth...
Identified by its fresh clarity,
Ascends upon a much confused
And mentally abused land.
The sound of chirping birds,
Have found a new meaning...
Upon attentive and listening ears.
Signs of foreclosures line suburban streets,
As if the trees have brought home new companions.
No more peeking out the window at Jane and Bob!
Even the Joneses next door,
Are at a loss to maintain pretensions!
Something in the air has changed.
And it has escaped,
Deplorable and declining credit ratings!
Burdens appear to lift.
This truth comes to confirm rumors spread.
Some remove their sunglasses to welcome it.
They stand unafraid to show every detail of their flaws.
Others...
Do their best to look acceptable.
Adorning disguises.
As they travel from home to home...
To borrow cups of sugar!
And rushing back to darkened nests,
To dress by candlelight.
To prepare themselves for invited guests.
Who will come,
Hopefully...
Bearing smiles and offers,
They can not afford to refuse.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Only Mental Memoirs Kept
There is going to be a clean sweep.
A complete overhaul...
Of present thinking,
By those who rode...
On a merry-go-round enjoyed.
But now has been stalled.
For certain conditions,
To be employed!
A total restructuring,
Of a thought process.
Coming soon to a mind near you.
And this,
All can expect!
Gone are the days,
Are those having their way.
With assumptions done...
Including less discipline,
To have a life full of fun!
A consciousness that will insist,
Everyone snaps awake.
And overnight this will seem,
To have taken place.
Attitudes about who will do what...
Will have few people,
Sitting on their butts!
With no 'buts' or 'ifs'...
Used for excuses to resist!
A total restructuring,
Of a thought process.
Coming soon to a mind near you.
And this,
All can expect!
No one will be asked to choose,
Whether or not they will participate.
With a hesitation to confuse.
What will be delivered,
No one can refuse.
No offer will be made...
To those in moods wishing to debate!
Those days are gone!
Only mental memoirs kept...
In private reminiscing.
During lunch breaks!
And assignments completed...
When one has finished,
Using their brooms, mops or rakes!
A conformity will be restored.
Not to be ignored.
Or out done.
By those holding onto pretensions.
To impress someone.
Who might care who they knew.
Or where they vacationed,
Under the Sun.
To bask and enhance healthy tans.
A consciousness that insists,
Everyone snaps awake.
And this will traumatize,
To bring many heartbreak!
Attitudes about who will do what...
Will have few people,
Sitting on their butts!
With noses turned up!
With no 'buts' or 'ifs'...
Used for excuses to resist!
A total restructuring,
Of a thought process.
Coming soon to a mind near you.
And this,
All can expect!
You can bet on that,
To happen next!
For all to socialize...
With sweat pouring down,
Their faces and necks!
'Hey you...
Yes you!
The 'intellectual'!
After you're through writing.
Or whatever it is you do.
Get back to your chores.
I don't want to have to repeat that...
Like I did before.'
With no 'buts' or 'ifs'...
Used for excuses to resist!
You can expect this...
To arrive at your door!
Persisting with wishes...
Will not be done anymore.
*Note of definition for 'memoir' as used in this context:
'...the record of the proceedings,
of a learned society...'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When They Moan
When they moan...
They are much upset.
And beset in troubled homes.
When they moan...
Storm clouds have arrived.
And they can not hide,
Their groans.
When they moan!
Fed up by the rise of lies,
Told about but denied.
And there is no where to put aside their pride,
When they moan.
With a besetting that upsets them...
In their troubled homes.
And displeasures once unknown are shown.
As they gather to scatter chatter,
That droans.
When they moan.
In voices now condoned,
They moan.
With a groaning shown and known,
From their homes.
Leaving no one left alone,
When the moaning droans.
Aye curumba!
With a groaning shown and known,
From their homes.
Aye curumba!
Leaving no one left alone,
When the moaning droans.
Aye curumba!
In voices now condoned...
They moan.
Aye curumba!
With a groaning shown and known,
From their homes.
Aye curumba!
Leaving no one left alone,
When the moaning droans.
Aye curumba!
In voices now condoned...
They moan.
Aye curumba!
With a groaning shown and known,
When they moan!
Dedicated:
To my Latino brothers and sisters,
experiencing injustices 'anywhere'...
all one day will be well.
Your struggles have not gone unnoticed.
And your contributions are duly noted!
I love you.
~LSP~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Slower Doses
On the surface it would appear,
Useless studies...
Pitting the blacks against whites,
And other 'minorities'
Would continue to delight,
With excitement...
Those who enjoy comparisons
Between a pampered Poodle,
And an abandoned German Shepard.
It makes no sense...
On the surface of 'things' manmade!
Where is the logic?
Other than to feed one's mental insecurities!
Graphs and charts depicting disparities,
Seem to be a tradition
To monitor the the ambitions,
And success of implanted ignorance!
But purposes on the surface,
Of 'things' manmade...
Are not revealed.
Intentions are concealed!
However...
This activity does show an advancement of sorts!
It continues to spread light
On all uses of effective weapons,
In place
That bring progressive societies
To complete ruin!
And ultimate disgrace.
It makes no sense...
On the surface of 'things' manmade!
Unless a cause and reason...
To implement genocide,
With documentation
As a means to maintain stolen lifestyles
Are maintained...
For those who prefer their own devastation,
In slower doses!
To ensure the rise of insanity is not mistaken!
Results of that achievement,
Has already been observed!
It makes no sense...
On surface of 'things' manmade!
Forget they do
'Where' the true power of all existence...
As we know it,
Originates!
From dimensions unseen!
Contemplating.
And 'Its' ultimate weapon has yet to be felt,
But comes!
To 'snap' some out of their illusion of 'greatness'
As to 'what' controls...
And 'who' survives,
From such mindless deeds of the greedy
Who see themselves as conquerers!
On the surface of 'things' manmade!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Abandoned Dog
They dumped it on the lonely road,
Then like a streak they sped;
And as along the way I strode
I thought that it was dead:
And then I saw that yelping pup
Rise, race to catch them up.
You know how silly wee dogs are.
It thought they were in fun.
Trying to overtake their car
I saw it run and run:
But as they faster, faster went,
It stumbled, sore and spent.
I found it prone upon the way;
Of life was little token.
As limply in the dust it lay
I thought its heart was broken:
Then one dim eye it opened and
It sought to like my hand.
Of course I took it gently up
And brought it to my wife
Who loves all dogs, and now that pup
Shares in our happy life:
Yet how I curse the bastards who
Its good luck never knew!
poem by Robert William Service
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Egos Fly High
Over a deal to purchase a football team.
People of notoriety,
Have elected themselves to use the media,
To demean.
People are losing lives.
And treasures they once owned.
Folks are being ostracized,
Not only from their families...
But also removed from foreclosed homes.
Folks with money and influential friends,
Are making their tantrums a priority.
At the expense of common sense,
For them that has yet to begin.
Egos fly high when little boys play together.
With more concern shown for their toys.
Than those homeless living in shelters.
And everyday they show evidence,
A taste to pride decadence is top on their list.
As millions of people,
Struggle to maintain an existence.
In a remorseful abyss.
Idiots with power,
Insist they have the right...
To ignite,
Their petty infighting.
As those they consider dispensible die!
Just to keep themselves in the limelight,
With perceptions they are adored day and night,
As millions cry.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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They Know That They Don't Know
They know that they don't know!
And their opinions discloses the evidence.
Most of their knowledge has been obtained,
By innuendos and nonsense.
Leaving them exposed,
To an ignorance that shows.
They know that they don't know!
And any actions taken to comprehend...
Becomes entrapped by an inferiority,
Felt within them.
And that which escapes their understanding...
Is left out of their reach.
Although very close...
Are those answers they seek most.
But quick they fold their arms to their chests,
With stubborn hands to express...
Their choice not to hear,
What for them is best!
Declaring they wish not to listen...
Because facts distracts,
A consciousness they lack!
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it...
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it...
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
They know that they don't know,
With their minds closed.
They know that they don't know,
With their minds closed.
They know that they don't know,
With their minds closed.
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
They know that they don't know...
And it shows.
They know that they don't know...
And it shows.
They know that they don't know...
And it shows.
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
They know that they don't!
Stubborn and they're limited.
They know that they don't!
Stubborn and they're limited.
They know that they don't!
Stubborn and they're limited.
Stubborn and they're limited.
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Signs On The Sky
People walk up and down the streets
They exist but their hearts don't beat
Empty eyes drawing border lines
Faces fade as you try to give a sign
Signs appear - written on the sky
They don't care as they're walking by
Is there no one to take them down
Take them down to earth for you and me?
Signs on the sky -
Tell me why don't you read them?
Signs on the sky -
Tell me what you believe in
There's no use waiting for the one
As the time goes on and on
When the night comes over you
You're the only judge of what is true
There's a road you can only find
Turning round, leaving all behind
And if you can break the seal
Everything you dream of will be real
song performed by by Zeno
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Way No Way Blues
I am not rich
And I can't afford to feed all the homeless in Toronto
But there is food banks that they can go and get some food to eat
So that they do'n t starve
But the homeless instead of going to the food bank they stay in the streets
Of home and begs for money at the streets of home
But I don't give money because I know that they are not going to use it for Food but they will use it to buy alcohol and destroy their liver in no Time
What ashame
And for that I say no way no way
poem by Aldo Kraas
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I Am Not Your Broom
Now broom, you must now sweep for me
The dust it fills my room
No, john, I will not sweep for you
For I am not your broom
What nonsense are you speaking, broom
My words you must obey
Another life awaits me and
Im leaving you today
I am not your broom
I am not your broom
Ive had enough, Im throwing off
My chains of servitude
I am not your broom
I am not your broom
No longer must I sweep for you
For I am not your broom
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Food Handouts To Vagrants
There were food handouts
for vagrants in those days
when people travelled to places by walk.
If tired strangers sat at the steps
of choultries in villages,
people would give them food to eat.
And in the early morning,
they would resume their journey.
Now we see hotels all along the road
but the rate of each item is doubled.
Some tramps beg for food and shelter
and in the dawn they'd be out with
some valuables missing. In some places,
the derelicts are given shelter
but their meagre gold is looted.
The governments give freebies to people
in exchange of their votes in ensuing polls.
Yet some odd persons are out to beg and eat.
In a few days the cops find them as terror-outfits.
Some with beards come like sages
and in the morning, some nearby cages are empty,
from which a few women elope with them.
Beware of the vagrants these days!
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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We Affect Forever
We Affect Forever
We are making history, through every day we spend.
We are here, leaving our mark, a mark that will not end.
Others before have left behind this world we now obtain.
Though it’s changed since way back when, the old shall always remain.
History is how we got here, history is who we are.
History is what led to this, yes history is not far.
It remains within our families, its tradition and unchanging ways.
It’s Christmas day, Thanksgiving, its countless nights and days.
History is what you’re becoming; it’s what you are soon to be.
And history never dies; it’s a part of everybody.
We fight to maintain who we are, to maintain who we’ve always been.
And while we fight we know this fight is not easy to win.
Many forget the past, and many never even know,
Many people never hear of how times were long ago.
Those thousands of years before us, are more than just time spent.
They are filled with real people, real feelings, and real places that they went.
The People had different life styles very different from our ways,
But it is true that there is nothing knew under the sun’s golden rays.
Stand proud to be alive, know you affect forever.
Every act that we commit we all commit together.
We are entrusted with this earth; we must love and cherish this life.
We must remember to love our existence lest love becomes our strife.
Yes we are becoming history, through every move we make.
We are here, leaving our mark, a mark ……or perhaps a mistake.
poem by Mary Murphy
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Leaving Home Aint Easy
I take a step outside
And I breathe the air
And I slam the door
And Im on my way
I wont lay no blame
I wont call you names
cause Ive made my break
And I wont look back
Ive turned my back
On those endless games
Im all through with ties
Im all tired of tears
Im a happy man
Dont it look that way?
Shaking dust from my shoes
Theres a road ahead
And theres no way back home
Ohh but I have
Leaving home aint easy
Oh I never thought it would be easy
Leaving on your own
Oh is the main thing calling me back?
Leaving home aint easy
On the one your leaving home
Stay my love my love please stay
Stray my love whats wrong my love?
Whats right my love?
Ohh leaving home aint easy
I thought how could I think of leaving
Leaving on your own
Still trying to persuade me that
Leaving home aint necessary
Leave the only way
Leaving home aint easy
But may be the only way
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With An Acceptance To Acknowledge
Early in my life,
I learned to navigate.
And appreciate what I initiated.
Mistakes I have made.
And not one did I excuse.
I admit I have a low tolerance for weepers.
Perhaps I understand them too much.
I have yet to witness the sharing of sorrows,
Mend anything to become productive.
Early in my life,
I learned to navigate.
And appreciate what I initiated.
But the loneliness of doing that alone,
I abandoned to socialize with others.
Needless to say...
Some lessons learned should never be abandoned.
Early in my life,
I learned to navigate.
And appreciate what I initiated.
With an acceptance to acknowledge,
Some lessons learned should never be abandoned.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Even Still No One Admits
Decades have been spent,
Defending the nonsense.
Those who spoke of it,
As it was and still is...
Have long been ostracized,
For making comments...
Considered by many,
To be negative!
And not reflective,
Of the good side of life!
A quality long on the downslide.
Well...
Now that everyone affected,
Can no longer rely on denials.
Generations of waste...
Seems to be stuck on pretentious faces.
Even still no one admits,
Just how deep in sssshhh...quicksand
They truly are!
And those of 'insight'
Refuse to be in view!
Saying repeatedly, 'I told you so! '
Is not what those of consciousness,
Choose to do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Financial Counseling
Don't you find it remarkable,
That those you labelled undesirable...
With a moving away from them decades ago,
Are now the ones most qualified...
To purchase your foreclosed home?
And you and the others,
Were booted out of most of them.
While from other homes,
They seem to be taking their time moving in.
'I thought you were here to provide me with,
Financial counseling.
Not teach me history.
I wish not to hear none of this.
With a lesson you believe I need to get.'
You are right.
Forgive me for that 'over zealous' insight.
I just thought in providing you financial counseling...
Being aware of 'your' history,
Might avoid you making similar judgement calls...
In your future.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Thinking I Was There to be The Only One!
She enjoyed her men packed.
He enjoyed his women stacked...
And full of chested love,
Kept bared
But they were not demonstrative.
And no one ever strayed...
To betray what they had together.
Who gave what and why is the question.
And who learned what lesson from this?
'You all are being too delusional'.
She enjoyed her men packed.
He enjoyed his women stacked...
And full of chested love,
Kept bared.
Preferences and prerequisites.
Sitting on a desk somewhere,
Collecting dust.
With references preferred,
And none to spare.
Mixed with preferences that are dated and timed.
These are new visions on the horizon,
Of my sunset?
And I'm a one on one kind!
With prerequisites.
Sitting on a desk somewhere,
Collecting dust.
And I'm thinking her kiss is for us.
When she has him and me on her mind...
For lust!
At the same time?
'Poppa don't arch his back for that! '
Preferences and prerequisites.
Sitting on a desk somewhere,
Collecting dust.
With references preferred,
And none to spare.
And I'm thinking her kiss is for us.
When she has him and me on her mind...
For lust!
Preferences and prerequisites.
Sitting on a desk somewhere,
Collecting dust.
With references preferred,
And none to spare.
She enjoyed her men packed.
He enjoyed his women stacked...
And full of chested love,
Kept bared
But for him.
Not for the whims she dared to expose.
I never thought I would think of her,
As a cheap 'ho'!
And There I stood.
Hiding in the bushes while another man,
Made her squeal louder than I could.
Louder than a man's man can.
Preferences and prerequisites.
Sitting on a desk somewhere,
Collecting dust.
With references preferred,
And none to spare.
Thinking I was there to be the only one!
Thinking no one like me could do her.
'And then...
Like a miracle,
You found your ass awakened!
Right? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Within Easy Reach
'You have brain tumor and few days to live'
My eyes remained wide and hardly could believe
I had few problems with my headache and food appetite
No hunger, anger in no time and less sleep in nights
I had observed this change since many days
I was well off and had enough of means to find the ways
The medical cure was distinct possibility
I lost no hope for future and trusted the final destiny
I had been different for all these years
Life had posed so many difficulties with fears
I only know how could I come out of such stage?
The hunger felt for many days could not have been written on page?
I had taken vow not to suffer any more poverty
It was certainly curse on the person and humanity
How can any single soul sleep without meal?
It was felt badly by me as an unequal deal
I thought for a while an worked day and time
I forgot to take regular meal even sometimes
I cared for no day and night and thrived to collect money
I thought this was the only means and successful key
Not to mention means or make note of my journey
I had taken it as challenge and demand of the destiny
For me means was no end but a start of first step
The water was to flow smoothly from the water tap
The wealth flowed in enormous quantity
It was purely credited to my personal capability
I had worked day and night to come up to that level
Rest everything spoke of my success and story to tell
In doing so I deteriorated my health
Nothing could come to my rescue including wealth
For the first time my spine shivered
Death was smile from distance and murmured
My story may not be different from others
So many die in streets and so many die in field like soldiers
Yet death takes them over even if they are poor or rich
Life can be made beautiful and within easy reach
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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