Bitten By Drive And Ambition
When one's cup fills to the brim...
With a spilling over that begins.
Would it be advantageous,
To secure another cup?
Or should a sacrifice,
That has been satisfied...
Be enough,
For one bitten by drive...
And ambition.
Or...
Does a success achieved,
Begin to breed the feeding...
Of an unstoppable greed.
Only one familiar with the taste of poverty,
Can truthfully say...
What sustains a need,
To maintain a craving done selfishly!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Testing to Tease An Unrest
I have no interest,
To be among the top!
I desire to be at the top.
Looking with a grateful proudness...
Knowing that all it took,
Was vision.
Hunger.
Thirst.
Craving.
Sacr ifice.
Temptation...
And greed!
Yes...
G-r-e-e-d! Greed.
What do you think motivation is?
Some warmed over spaghetti?
Delivered by a next door neighbor?
Well...
It isn't.
And just like those who have come to stomach success...
Yes...
One has to acquire a stomach for success.
Nibbling to be satisfied is not success.
Even from the summit...
There is observed,
Other quests testing...
To tease,
An unrest.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Gene Of Greed In Us
The gene of greed in us is not to be denied
Many with more than enough do not seem satisfied
With them it does always seem much does want more
I only say here what has been said before
For success through greed many seem to compete
To be wealthiest in the neighbourhood and wealthiest on the street
In the leafy Suburb they drive their big new cars up and down
For to display their wealth in their side of the town,
In their backyard for themselves and their spouses and mates a big swimming pool
In the warmth of the Summer to swim in and keep cool
But in a Human World where millions live in poverty
They do not seem wonderful people to me
And in a Human World where the gap between the haves and the have nots is growing ever wide
The gene of greed in us is not to be denied.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Don't just leave it to the fate
craving for success is not enough when you do nothing to ignite
the passage to feed the crave. when in hunger your body would sustains pains
and you need to have foods to ease the strains. with your able body and mind, you could have achieved something you desired but for some, it wouldn’t be possible for they are not equipped with supportive materials like monetary and facilities, physical impairments
and low I.Q., distraction environment like living in the ghettos, war torn countries, families of broken marriages and these are some of the factors which contribute to the stuttering craving for success. by and large, certain people who are lavishly showered with positive factors to reach and grab the ladder of success would be the monotonous
cohort who will always be at the prime of society.
how to correct and remedy this catastrophe of imbalance distribution of capabilities, opportunities and wealth. could it be like listening to your favorite songs and get the pleasures out of it or like having some good foods and you thank God for that satisfactions? wiseman says “where there is a disease, there’ll always a cure”. what can we do about it? we just can’t leave it to the fate.
poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
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Nurtured Crops
Those impending signs of tragedy,
Have long ago been seeded.
Accompanied by the taste for greed.
Implemented with a consciousness,
By the ones patiently harvesting their laments.
With wishes to increase their gluttony.
And inflict upon others,
A sense to impress with an exclusiveness...
Only those selected would get.
Those impending signs of tragedy,
Have long ago been seeded.
Accompanied by the taste for greed.
And those nurtured crops,
From the beginning quite damaged...
Were raised and praised to reflect a need.
And the feeding of this misfit craving...
Has today been denounced,
As blemishes that flaws...
The mindset of a blinded society.
Those impending signs of tragedy,
Have long ago been seeded.
Accompanied by the taste for greed.
And even though,
There has been those speaking against this...
The marketing of this addicting sickness,
Will continue as long as a dollar is made.
That very same dollar,
Faithfully worshipped but not associated with craze.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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That Kind Of Action Is Against The Law
We have tried everything in our power,
To ween them away from gluttony...
And their feelings of being entitled,
To devour selfishly...
As if they are the chosen ones,
To graze and feed an endless greed.
'mmm...I see.
Have you tried using guilt?
Sometimes people aren't aware,
They are hypocrites.'
We've introduced diets.
'I was going to suggest lobotomies.
But go on.'
Nothing can convince them,
Their feeding of greed is an economic disaster.
'And...
Where is the problem? '
We wish to prevent this disaster.
'Really? That's funny.
My grandfather believed,
Lessons taught was with a strap felt on the butt.'
That kind of action is against the law.
'Well...
Keep sugarizing them to sustain them in fantasy.
Eventually the taste for greeding will exhaust the supply.
That's a given.'
So...
You don't think hypnotism will work?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sinning To Many Is A Frightening Premise
A familiarity may breed contempt.
And that encompasses,
A host of influences.
Having a familiarity,
May also include...
Some experiences achieved.
But an ignorance that breeds contempt,
Says a lot about one's limitations.
And the ease by which,
One who is thoughtless 'and' mindless too...
Can be programmed to self destruct.
Based on the feeding of fear alone.
And many people do,
Self destruct within minds stuck.
And fear to those ignorant,
Is as familiar to them...
As is their lack of knowledge.
Which also to them is treated like a sin.
And sinning to many like this,
Is a frightening premise.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Several Ways to Express Success
To succeed for many,
Is a need to see...
An obvious public repetition done,
Of someone feeding greed.
Few accept success to be,
A feeling to live healthy and basic.
And happy to be blessed,
Getting the simpliest of provided needs met!
I guess there is several ways,
To express success.
But one has to feel what suits them best.
And not let success be someone else's interpretation.
Or become depressed...
If another's attraction towards a created success,
Does not stimulate or give...
The same arresting sensation to satisfy and digest.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Craving!
Craving!
An essence within my heart,
Unknown.
Craving!
And yet I know this taste.
A familiarity embraces me.
Craving!
Bathing in the fragrance of it.
Hoping that it will covet me.
Once it identifies,
Which desire it gives that pleases.
Craving!
This life.
And its teasing!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Habits that Become Addicting
The only mystique there is to consume,
And believe...
Is that which has a more concentrated,
Feasibility to release from periods of testing.
Keeping a feeding of this process is needed.
And if leaks of deceit should begin to be 'peeped'...
More opportunities are created,
To tease with more advantageous temptations.
And habits that become addicting like a good wage,
Are encouraged to nourish satisfactions.
Until the expense of those habits,
Begin to diminish the cost of protecting delusions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Like A Pack Of Rabid Wolves
The only people attempting to get something for free,
Are those blocking the road...
Preventing the ones from claiming,
What rightfully belongs to them.
And they are the ones who are shunned.
While those of greed feed their gluttony selfishly.
Feeding like a pack of rabid wolves,
To move on to other territories....
In deceiving discreet.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Vignette - III
THE ARTISAN.
This twilight gloom. This lone retreat--
This silence to my soul is sweet!
Awhile escap'd from toil and strife,
And all the lesser ills of life,
Here only at the evening's close,
My weary spirit finds repose;
My sinking heart its freedom gains,
Which poverty had bound in chains!
For here unheard the moments fly--
And so secure, so happy I,
That, often at the very last,
I feel not that my dream is past.
The little hour of bliss I spend,
With thee, my chosen, only friend!
That transient hour the heart sustains,
Which poverty has bound in chains!
And for this dear, this precious hour,
I would not, if I had the power,
Exchange a worldling's life of ease,
Whom all around him seek to please.
I have no other friend beside,
But here I safely may confide.
Suspicion ne'er the bosom stains,
Which poverty has bound in chains!
How oft I wonder at my lot!
How oft are all but thee forgot!
While in this half-despairing breast,
Love builds a little, quiet nest,
To hover o'er with joyous wing,
Nay, sometimes soar aloft and sing!
'Tis this alone the heart sustains,
Which poverty has bound in chains!
poem by Matilda Betham
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Heaven
Im longing for some space
Im longing for the place
Im longing for the days,
Where you start listening to me
Sometimes I cry
Sometimes I hide
Sometimes I buy a holiday
In seven heavenly skies
You think youre free
But the breed has got you
You think youre free
But the need has got you
You think you need the breed of greed,
You rule my world
With the breed thats got you
Chorus:
Heaven is a place I long to go
Has a face when I see you
Is a hell in seven skies
Tell me truth not holy lies
Show me the world of peace
Show me what I cant see
Show me that place and face your
Breed of greed
My mind is shaded blue,
I dont know what to do,
Shall I just leave or is there
Anything left to do
You think youre free
But the breed has got you
You think youre free
But the need has got you
You think you need the breed of greed,
You rule my world
With the breed thats got you
Chorus
1:st verse
song performed by by H-BlockX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waiting For A Taste Of Humanity
People everywhere are starving.
And waiting for a taste of humanity.
Waiting for the feeding of greed to subside,
To embrace the benefit that comes from sharing.
Feasting on blood is not the solution.
Since the cannibalism of it,
Eventually will leave no humans to exist.
And when has genocide proven to be a quick fix...
To leave anyone eternally 'high'.
People everywhere are starving.
And waiting for a taste of humanity.
Waiting for the feeding of greed to subside,
To embrace the benefit that comes from sharing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Desperation Fades
My desperation fades,
When my craving for you ends.
My appetite satisfied in small bites...
When I licked my wishes in nibbles.
I could not in patience wait to feast.
I could not...
When I hungered for you to eat.
I could not...
Fast
Or last that long!
I need to taste.
And that temptation was prolonged.
I thought I was strong.
But not having you near.
It became clear what I did was wrong!
I went on and on and on until...
No knocking from you came!
So I did.
My desperation fades,
When my craving for you ends.
My appetite satisfied in small bites...
When I licked my wishes in nibbles.
Exciting myself...
Like I do each night,
Whenever you call to say...
'Perhaps another time?
Perhaps another day? '
I then lay...
Wet!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Speed of a Crisis
Repeated and historic has been...
The finger pointing done to accuse another one,
For a self inflicted suffering...
That comes to them without end.
Insecurities unconfessed,
Now has them forced to address...
An idealistic way of life,
That sets the spotlight upon
Such a disturbing mess.
Yes!
Truth like this is difficult to erase.
When greed has been one's feeding.
And greasy fat hands appear...
With mud smeared on one's deceiving face.
Of course the blame for this will be placed on someone else.
That's the way these steps of greatness have been achieved.
Leaving victims dishonored and disenfranchised as they bleed.
And the speeding of a crisis begins to leap over false devices.
As those try to hide their absolute disgrace...
Realizing the basis of their taste,
Began with the seeding of petty issues...
And spiced with the baiting of race.
Now an incompetence has stirred the heating of disaster!
With a churning of internal division...
That can not be stopped.
Even as their demise is taking place!
With a trashing done that they have mastered.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Hunger To Have It
Their failures faced,
Do not come to them.
Because of mistakes made.
Their failures have been created,
By their intentions to separate.
With a leading of incompetent dominance.
Not a blending of experiences from all,
To embrace.
The appearance of gluttony,
Came to take its place.
And greed feeding on incompetence,
Has led to their disgrace.
And maybe their strategy did begin with race.
But it is about all about the MONEY now!
Unfortunately.
The lack of it.
And the hunger to have it.
Has evil losing a battle to maintain greatness.
A commodity left to go unnurtured.
A commodity now less real and more faked.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sound Bites
Bitten and spit.
To get a morsel...
Not all of it.
And the folks getting it,
Eat it up!
Not a moment of it wasted,
On providing facts.
Not complete...
For a comprehension to receive it.
Sound bites bitten to scoop the news.
To dropp a little bit to confuse.
Just to extend the taste of what is chewed.
And that's what sound bites bitten done,
Do!
A buffet that's meager,
For a taste to choose.
With a tease that's given.
And a hope what's nibbled makes good news.
Just to extend the taste of what is chewed.
And that's what sound bites bitten done,
Do!
Not a moment of it wasted,
On providing facts.
Not complete...
For a comprehension to receive it.
Bitten and spit.
To get a morsel...
Not all of it.
And the folks getting it,
Eat it up!
And that's what sound bites bitten,
Done...
Do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved.
quote by Helen Keller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Addicted Feeding of Spoiled Greed
Change for many is unbearable.
It is feared.
A life known lived,
In accepted stagnation...
With those corrupted leading the degradation,
Is familiar and preferred.
A slower decline into devastation...
For those who distrust truth,
Is heard and followed until this is allowed,
And occurs within the minds of those 'conservative'.
With delusions again winning like a surging herd,
Over common sense entrapped without defense.
People miss and hunger for...
Their sweetened fantasies.
Although it has been stated more and more,
The economy can no longer support,
This addicted feeding of spoiled greed...
That has depleted all vision of demanding sensibilities.
Who are the 'centrists' against 'liberalists'?
With their wishes...
For a return to cobbled streets!
And a dimming of consciousness.
Wanting more to be free to live selfishly!
Even if it means to do it in total darkness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When the Bush Begins to Speak
They know us not in England yet, their pens are overbold;
We're seen in fancy pictures that are fifty years too old.
They think we are a careless race - a childish race, and weak;
They'll know us yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
'The leaders that will be', the men of southern destiny,
Are not all found in cities that are builded by the sea;
They learn to love Australia by many a western creek,
They'll know them yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
All ready for the struggle, and waiting for the change,
The army of our future lies encamped beyond the range;
Australia, for her patriots, will not have far to seek;
They'll know her yet in England when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
We'll find the peace and comfort that our fathers could not find,
Or some shall strike the good old blow that leaves a mark behind.
We'll find the Truth and Liberty our fathers came to seek,
Or let them know in England when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
poem by Henry Lawson
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