Beyond The Testing Of Accepting Mentalites
How can anyone learn to avoid or escape,
From those dangers of their own creations.
If...
Those creations and dangers to be faced,
Has origins developed from sensations faked.
By a taking away,
Only that which appears...
On a surface that seems to stay in one place.
And...
Nothing below,
Exposes roots spirited in realms kept...
Knowing without a showing,
An eternal mysteriousness...
Beyond the testing,
Of accepting mentalities...
Limited,
As they were made to exist!
Beyond the testing of accepting mentalities,
Unaware...
They have been watched.
From places...
Manmade time does not start or stop.
And that acknowlegement,
Is not considered to be there...
Aware,
Of such a disrespecting theft.
Leaving those creations made,
To become vulnerable to undergo...
Dramatic and shocking traumatic change.
Within and not there about...
Outside to focus upon,
With an interpreting to satisfy...
Inside their brains.
Only that which 'is' elevated...
Can re-arrange to make change.
And...
One of those changes comes,
To those doers of misdeeds...
Soon!
And...
One of those changes comes to stun,
The doers of misdeeds...
To leave no room for disbelief,
Or debates preconceivng what this is...
For them to assume.
It comes to clarify the truth of 'Its' power.
It comes to clarify,
When that hour...
Upon us all,
Arrives!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
These Sentiments Within Them Sit
The increase of fear,
Has those whispering in each other's ears.
People have become afraid and wish to be saved!
But from what can be identified within themselves,
Keeps them running away not to face?
Since all that they have chosen to live,
Has been a product resulting from their own creations.
The toy guns.
The violent video games purchased,
With a waiting in line until there were none.
Racial hatred taught and identifying enemies made.
The sitting in theaters with patience awaiting...
Those movies to panic to scare everyone until they scream.
And people solicit their own nightmares to dream!
Resulting from their own creations...
These devastations within them sit.
Resulting from their own creations...
With sentiments meant to send.
Resulting from their own creations...
And expecting from them,
To heal and mend.
Resulting from their own creations...
These devastations within them sit.
Resulting from their own creations...
With sentiments meant to send.
Resulting from their own creations...
And expecting from them,
To heal and mend.
Resulting from their own creations.
Resulting from their own creations,
Yes...
These sentiments within them sit.
These sentiments within them sit.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Kept In The Worshipping Of Fear
I see no benefits delivered,
To those doers of misdeeds and evil.
Followers a plenty they may have to boast!
But there is nothing they have done,
To laugh and/or joke about.
Those who have turned a blind eye,
To allow this sleaze to slither...
While dancing to the beat and 'weeding',
Have made this investment for their children.
With dividends to rhythmically stay high as a goal.
I see no benefits delivered,
To those doers of misdeeds and evil.
Followers a plenty they may have to boast!
But there is nothing they have done,
To laugh and/or joke about.
And those who have remained on their knees,
Praying to be released from this reality they've created...
Without knowing to 'whom' or 'what' they pray to,
Have brought into their own lives their own set of demons.
To ensure they are kept in the worshipping of fear.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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As Is Meant To Be Told
With a silenced mind,
Listen to them find...
Excuses to make for themselves.
And those who make excuses,
To abuse the truth.
Are liars.
With a quiet mind anyone can find,
Those who pretend.
There are ways to deal with people who pretend.
And there are many of them attempting to defend themselves,
With lies they tell on someone else.
Hoping the doing keeps them popular amongst those unknowing,
Them to be chronic liars prepared to always put on a show...
To protect their insecurities and victimizing those that don't know.
The affects of this are all around.
If one's eyes and ears are kept open.
And one's mouth is kept shut.
While listening to things being instantly made up.
Watch them mentally self destruct.
'Who? '
Those who lie and want you to believe them true.
While they continue to make things up,
As often as they do.
And those they've deceived will eventually awaken,
To disbelieve the doers of these misdeeds.
When the pieces are put together to reveal those faking.
There are ways to deal with people who pretend.
Hoping the doing keeps them popular amongst those unknowing,
Them to be chronic liars.
With a watching them mentally self destruct,
And those they've deceived will eventually awaken,
To disbelieve the doers of these misdeeds...
While listening to them talk about themselves too much,
With a passing of judgement and telling of lies on others.
'But...
How do we know them to do these things? '
Those who make excuses,
To abuse the truth...
Are liars.
And...
With a quiet mind anyone can find,
Those who pretend with a defending of themselves against...
Someone who is not around,
More familiar with the telling of truth as is meant to be told.
'Who do you think are those least likely to tell the truth? '
It is in the observation.
Who has difficulty accepting who they are?
Who uses their ethnicity as a fashion statement,
And not a possessed identity?
And who is quick to assess others like themselves,
With comments made that have no dignity?
And those who lie are always the ones self righteous,
Quick to use God as if God is not aware of false tongues.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Unintended Blunder
Accepting and foolish,
Is the one who believes...
That derogatory statements made,
Are spoken by the one unaware...
Of their content.
And those who make attempts,
To mask their offensive actions meant...
Do it to get attention for their misdeeds.
With a pleading for a forgiveness,
As if an unintended blunder has been made.
People with open mouths,
Know exactly what comes out of them.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Something Interseting Sestina #1
as long as you live, there is love
but in the recceses rise hate
all these words I draw with passion
with nothig to support me, except my faith
but to others my philosophy seems fake
so I go eat in a kitchen
build me a broken kitchen
that can be worsen by love
a kitchen that make all truth fake
one that is made whole with hate.
There I can vehemently laugh at those with faith,
there I have no time for passion
I have no time for you because you have no time for me dear passion
that's why you can't be a recipe in my kitchen
an the essence in my food is not threw faith
don't love
lie, loath, be livid, and hate
understand such rules with sincerity, don't be fake
yes I say that because the mind of the world is fake
no true passion
much mocked hate
but all is genuine and true in my kitchen
no false love
and lots of thrawted faith
tried faith
and to others this isn't fake
the situation is as real as love
and love as real as unforgiven passion
and both passion and love will destory my uncanny kitchen
which is established by raw hate
that word hate
miss understood by those that don't know the meaning of its faith
but all my creations thrives on it in my kitchen
and yes I will assure you no thing is fake
plus all creations are made without passon
and all creations in my kitchen are mained by love
So come in with hate, and finally take in all creation that's not fake
renew and change your faith, and here make lame all passion
in my kitchen, the place that no one love.
poem by Victoria Lee
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There were two mentalities, and both mentalities had to change. There was what I called the Afrikaner mind set of the Unionist politicians, which was holding all power in their own hands, and discriminating, and their objective was to protect their identity.
Transparent
Treating your days like a countdown.
Seconds pass by, waiting just to blow up,
and you get nothing done,
and this is what you want.
Lost touch and,
you turn your back and your some friend.
Sterile conversation,
learn to talk a good game.
Talk your way out,
its a sure thing.
Testing the ends of what theyll put up with.
You got your chance to say what you wanted to.
But you never do,
stand up to the ones that keep you down,
now you can see right through it all.
Lost touch and,
tracing your steps you cant begin.
You cant start,
to say what your thinking and why not.
Talk your way out,
its a sure thing.
Testing the ends of what theyll put up with.
Sticking it out til you cant get up.
How many times have you been pacified?
Accepting it when youre told,
theres no way,
making sure there never will.
Sticking it out til you cant get up.
How many times have you been pacified?
Accepting it when youre told,
theres no way,
making sure there never will.
Testing the ends of what they put up with
song performed by by Quicksand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Had Been Frivolous Priorities
Times and people change.
Even those who have passed judgement on others.
And it must be difficult for these folks to now make claims,
They have had amnesia for decades...
As they delivered their misdeeds.
To purposely pick to inflict their aims.
When so much of what they've done...
Exposes them for what and who they are,
To be revealed to everyone!
And pretentious people I keep distanced.
It's in my DNA.
But I keep my eye on them anyway!
Those folks will betray their mamas.
And will say anything to defend their lies!
And what had been frivolous priorities for some...
Have been replaced by the reality of survival,
That has unmistakably come stun.
Leaving little room to appease deceptions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pleading On Their Hands and Knees
The test dissected has been done to select...
From those who have chosen materialism to digest.
And those who are able to feel and see,
The anguish created by these misdeeds.
And the ones who have depleted others,
With a disregard to feed their own greed.
Are the ones who will suffer the most.
Pleading on their hands and knees...
To be freed of the guilt and restlessness.
That will haunt their mentalities for all eternity!
The ticking and the tock,
Has not stopped on this clock...
For them!
They have regrets,
That come they have not met!
Not-just-yet!
But that hour approaches upon them.
And that stinging done...
Promises to stun!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mental Anguish
Never do unto others,
What is believed to be for them deserving.
It is almost impossible to correct,
A heart life broken...
By suspicions later that some regret.
With an awakening to a sorrow,
They 'must' accept without peace or rest.
To be accused for anything,
Someone has not done...
Has its consequences to pay one day.
For those who knowingly made another's life lived,
To suffer...
Emotionally that way.
And when the truth surfaces to reveal,
A wrongness performed by acts of deceit...
That shoe forced to place unwittingly on someone's foot,
Will come back to bite the minds...
Of the doers of these misdeeds unrelentingly.
Leaving...
Them never to relax with their mental anguish intact.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mission Assigned To The Position
Challenges faced everyday,
To remain emotionally vulnerable...
With an accepting of what takes place,
Is the mission assigned to the position...
Of one who lives fated to create.
Awakening each day,
As if with eyes of an innocent child...
Gets less difficult for the one,
Who has been committed to a life lived...
Not to be experienced by everyone to reconcile.
And those who sit believing,
This kind of mentality can be critiqued...
Are not living twenty four hours a day,
With a mind creating barely getting rest.
Only to momentarily 'allowed' to sleep.
Challenges faced everyday,
To remain emotionally vulnerable...
With an accepting of what takes place,
Is the mission assigned to the position...
Of one who lives fated to create with focus.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Trying To Be As Serious As I Possibly Can
I'm not going to say,
What goes around comes around.
I can not do that.
I am just going to feel very blessed.
And...
Find a place to laugh where I am not heard.
With the acknowledgement God realizes,
I am a work in progress with blemishes and flaws.
Just like other 'creations' My Father has made.
And I am not quite yet prepared...
To forgive those who have done misdeeds,
Intentionally!
Without expecting a 'payback'.
What's in the minds of people like that?
Donut munching?
But something inside me becomes pleased,
To see them suffer.
'Oh forgive me Father,
For I have sinned.
And it felt so good! '
God knows I am going through this process,
Trying to be as serious as I possibly can.
Under certain conditions.
Afterall...
Like Father, Like Son!
I had to have gotten my sense of humor from 'somewhere'!
So I can not take full responsibility for my tactless actions.
'Excuse me,
Would you happen to have any tissue?
I've become suddenly overwhelmed.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The non-existent truth
The defined and undefined truth,
Endowed with knowledge or without knowledge,
Sometimes real or unreal,
Certainly including being and non-being,
Accepting that being is true,
Accepting the non-existence of being,
When the absence of existence means the negation of being,
Accepting that truth did not exist,
And it would have been true that it did not exist, at the same time,
Understanding that truth is eternal,
Imagining the idea of a non-existing world,
Before its own existence,
Accepting the universal and immortal truth,
So interchangeable with being,
While the universal never ceases of itself,
Recognizing the truth always existing in an eternal intellect,
While the created truth is not existing,
Understanding the created truth as not existing,
Remaining truth, when the true things have been destroyed,
Or remaining truth, when all true things can be destroyed,
Or remaining truth, when our minds can not see the truth itself,
Truth, being in sense, always as a consequence of its act.
Truth, not being in sense because
The sense does not know the truth it truly judges,
Even it judges truly about things,
The existent and non-existent truth.......
Copyright © ® Marieta Maglas. All rights reserved.
A philosophical poem about truth.(references: The Lankavatara Sutra, Mulamadhyamaka, The Vedanta-Sutras and Spinoza.)
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Since He Sees and Can Be All Over the Place
I am just inside for the ride.
Accepting that,
I sit back...
And let God drive.
I once tried to get my way behind the wheel.
And repeatedly turned down deadend roads.
Only to behold,
A growing of my own ignorance.
And 'this' I can reveal.
I now sit back and let God drive.
This 'vehicle' I'm in and ride inside,
God knows better than I...
How to steer it clear from temptations,
That attract me.
To sideswipe and undermine my dignity.
God knew it.
He wanted me to go through it.
And that was a hard testing of my pride...
I had to learn!
God in my life is the driver.
Now I let God do what He does!
With less concern.
And since He sees and can be all over the place,
I keep my faith.
Knowing God,
If He so chooses...
Will accelerate or apply the brakes!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Padlocked In A Box To Stop Further Production
No,
I would not say I could ever be an image maker.
That kind of responsibility should require tact.
At least 'some' of it with no holding back.
However,
I can say I am an observer of those images made.
With a wish I had been consulted,
Prior to their creations.
Since many rear-ends seen today seem on purpose to offend.
And it is impossible for me to be the only one insulted by them.
With the brimming to the rim to spill such disgusting 'butts'.
And a freedom given to have some of them I've seen,
Exposed like they are to parade publicly on the streets.
My vision increasingly has become demeaned.
No,
I would not say I could ever be an image maker.
However,
I can say I am an observer of those images made.
With a wish I had been consulted,
Prior to their creations.
Padlocked in a box to stop further production.
With a key to bury never to be found.
That's how I would have handled...
Many of today's images that have gotten out of hand.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Too Late
See the stop-light turn-in red,
Dont you listen to what its said.
All the things you try to hide,
They keep you runnin hard inside.
Oh, you got to leave this town before its...
Too late, too late, too late, too late, too late,
Too late to make the change.
Oo, yes, my friend, youre fadin fast, if you stay here you wont last.
Before your time has run astray, youve got to try to get away.
Oh, you got to leave this place before its...
Too late, too late, too late, too late, too late,
Too late to make the change.
Too late, too late to make the change
Too late to make the change
Yes, its time to make the change, yes, its time to rearrange,
So, my friend, I join the fight for the things you know are right.
Oh, you got to leave this town before its...
Too late, too late, too late, too late, too late,
Too late to make the change.
Too late, too late to make the change
Too late, too late, to make the change
Too late to make the change
Too late, before its too late.
song performed by by Journey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I
I, I, I, iiiii. [x3]
What if I, had chosen to,
Make a left, when I should have made a right and,
What if I, followed though,
And chilled with my crew last night.
What if I, took the call and
Stayed on the phone when I should have been gone.
And What if I, hadnt turned around and seen you there.
If I could go back in time,
To when the stars aligned,
Would I find the strength again to talk to you,
Walk up to you.
If I could do it all again,
I wouldnt change a single thing.
Dont need to compromise, what I feel inside,
Dont need to clarify my position I,
Submit to destiny, so baby come with me,
Lets take it for a ride,
Baby, baby, I, I, I.
And furthermore, if youre looking for,
Someone to be around, baby Im down,
Lets take it to the point, no need to justify,
Baby, baby, I, I, I.
What if we, hadnt been,
In the same place that very same time and,
What if we, hadnt seen, all the possibilities.
What if he,
What if she, Stop!
I dont want to think about it,
What if I,
What if I,
Ooh, Never mind.
If I could go back in time,
To when the stars aligned,
Would I find the strength again to talk to you,
Walk up to you.
If I could do it all again,
I wouldnt change a single thing.
Dont need to compromise, what I feel inside,
Dont need to clarify my position I,
Submit to destiny, so baby come with me,
Lets take it for a ride,
Baby, baby, I, I, I.
And furthermore, if youre looking for,
Someone to be around, baby Im down,
Lets take it to the point, no need to justify,
Baby, baby, I, I, I. [x3]
[Thanks [email protected] these lyrics]
song performed by by Velvet Empire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Justice Upon Me
Justice,
Justice I think about you,
Justice come and makes me a beneficiary,
This is me,
Until I get free,
I perceive about the new Creations,
Realized that I got lessons to learn,
I feel the burn and the hurt,
This is the choice that I made,
The decisions that I made,
I faced all that grievance,
I got a lot to do whilst on earthly dwelling,
This is me feeling that pain,
Like a sudden storm,
I know that I got that great personality,
When I never profane and sell my rights,
Keep me calm in all that is done under the sun,
I as Iam found that house,
You are the maker,
You made me never to lose that hard battle.
poem by Maxim Muyu
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Fresh Crop From a Premium Stock
Viciously they fight themselves.
As if these attacks,
Will bring back a lack of integrity.
Or erase the affects of their greed.
Again and again...
Truth exposes their misdeeds.
And again and again,
They attempt to hide their sins!
But for how long can this go on...
When the light of honesty,
Brightly exposes the darkness...
That is being lifted away from them.
Showing none familiar or experienced,
To keep this effect dimmed!
Catastrophic is their drop.
A consciousness of this wont stop!
A fresh crop from a premium stock,
Is being harvested!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Laws For Creations
LAWS for Creations,
For strong artists and leaders--for fresh broods of teachers, and
perfect literats for America,
For noble savans, and coming musicians.
All must have reference to the ensemble of the world, and the compact
truth of the world;
There shall be no subject too pronounced--All works shall illustrate
the divine law of indirections.
What do you suppose Creation is?
What do you suppose will satisfy the Soul, except to walk free, and
own no superior?
What do you suppose I would intimate to you in a hundred ways, but
that man or woman is as good as God?
And that there is no God any more divine than Yourself?
And that that is what the oldest and newest myths finally mean? 10
And that you or any one must approach Creations through such laws?
poem by Walt Whitman
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