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So many excuses,
By those authoritative are made.
To build new prisons...
As if a rehabilitation saves,
Released felons to return to fresh paths paved.
And nothing has proven,
A confinement does not attract.
Ex-convicts with long rap sheets return.
To be treated better than those,
Doing their best to live right.
And yet these are the people...
Victimized with their pockets burned.
So many excuses,
By those authoritative are made.
To build new prisons...
As if a rehabilitation saves,
Released felons to return to fresh paths paved.
While vicious crimes are glamourized.
With the signing of book and film deals done everyday.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Parole Boards Please July 18th,2012
NO PAROLE BOARDS PLEASE July 18th,2012
BY
JAMES BREDIN
The Parole Boards claim that our prisons are overcrowded,
They use this in their release decisions that are shrouded,
So vicious murderers and rapists can walk the streets once more,
And strut their stuff and show off to their victims how they have scored.
And the politically correct Parole Board folk think that this is great,
Though not very democratic and never up for debate,
And our isolated party politicians stay far away,
Doing absolutely nothing for us except maybe, betray.
We have to be mentally ill to let this system go on and on,
As they're allowed to do more crimes, conclusion foregone,
The list of subsequent crimes goes on and on and on,
Read them on the Internet if you are healthy and feel strong.
Could we build much bigger prisons to keep these criminals in?
Of course this might be considered a politically correct sin,
Then overcrowding could not be used as a parole-board excuse,
And much less released-prisoner crimes nightly in the news
Wednesday, July 18th,2012
poem by James Bredin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No One Benefits Or Receives
Why is it that a certain class of people,
Feel they can free themselves...
From committing the most horrendous deeds,
To excuse what is done...
At the taxpayers expense,
To get them much needed mental therapy?
And for a dime bag of nature grown weed,
Others not in this class...
Picked as felons,
And depicted to be on the wrong paths...
Are given sentences with time to sit in prisons,
To be rehabilitated back into a dysfunctional society.
Why is it that a certain class of people,
Feel they can free themselves...
From committing the most horrendous deeds,
To excuse what is done...
At the taxpayers expense,
To get them much needed mental therapy?
When a swift kick where they sit,
And done in public...
Would end such exorbitant fees,
No one benefits or receives...
As a return to retrieve a dividend.
But expected is a giving of a forgiveness.
And anyone with a consciousness witnessing this,
Knows this is a bunch of...
'Of What?
You didn't finish it.'
Use your imagination.
Do you really think I have to?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Regardless of the nature of their crime or any rehabilitation that may have occurred, these ex-felons cannot participate in the decision-making process of this great Nation.
quote by Charles Rangel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Return Sonata
Return the dust that is in my home to the streets at home
So that I can have a dust free home
Return the mice to the streets at home
So that I can have no mice in my home
Return some warmth to my home
So that my home can be warm also
Return peace to my home
So that I can live in peace at home
Return freedom to me
So that I can live free
Return the fresh air to my home
So that I can be able to breathe the fresh air
Return the sound of silence to my home
So that I can have some silence while I sleep
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Reek of Fresh Rehabilitation
You are much different,
From the kind of person...
I heard you are and would be.
'Don't worry about it.
There are a lot of people I haven't met,
I don't like either.
Socially I rely upon rumors.
Few take the time to get to know anyone.
And with the rumors and gossip as good as they are today...
Why bother?
Who do you know sits around without something juicy to share?
Everybody seems to be riding on a downslide.'
But you don't have to participate!
'Oh please please please!
You reek of fresh rehabilitation.
Were you 'just' released from prison? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Digging Real Deep
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch or a feel of return.
And a lesson's not learned,
That...
A deposit made to dip,
For tasty lips...
Took too many dips,
To withdrawn the end of it.
And there will be no return...
You put that last deposit in your pocket,
And then you split...
With it.
You put that last deposit in your pocket,
And then you split...
With it.
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch or a feel of return.
And a lesson's not learned,
That...
A deposit made to dip,
For tasty lips...
Took too many dips,
To withdrawn the end of it.
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch of return,
IS...
Digging real deep.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch of return,
IS...
Digging real deep
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch of return,
Long ago had been burned.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For Purposes To Entertain The Perfect Existence
Assigned to teach,
Anyone unwilling to listen...
Or sit quietly wanting to learn,
Seems always to be an opportunity...
To question the abilities of the teacher,
With a finding of fault and a blaming to accuse.
And not one admission of being irresponsible,
From those too deluded to accept their own confusion.
'I did not raise my child to be boisterous.
And being disrespectful to others?
I just do not allow.
IF we had more certified and qualified teachers,
These problems of 'ours' would be solved.
With increased discipline to learn to 'see' this exist.'
~AND...
You have just won two tickets to 'Fantasyland'.~
Leaving those in leadership positions,
To know there are people with limitations on their minds...
Will eventually find crimes to commit.
And at the taxpayers' expense, safety is advocated.
So they campaign to build 'more' rehabilitation centers,
For purposes to entertain the perfect existence!
Giving those confined time to occupy their minds,
To be released with increased knowledge of God!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet that Prayed
A precious pilgrim poet prayed
Because no words would come,
He asked God if he'd disobeyed,
Because his heart felt numb...
A vision formed within his mind,
Like none he'd seen before,
With white-hot furnace gold refined
God stretched from shore to shore...
Like molten lava from the Lord,
The streets were paved with gold...
As if God's grace had been outpoured
For all men to behold...
As if the old paths must be changed,
Transformed by Jesus Christ
And once the streets were rearranged,
God's might was realised...
Thus those that fled could now return,
When God made all things new,
With wonders they could share and learn,
To know what they must do...
The poet asked the Lord's advice,
Were these streets here on Earth,
Or were they streets in Paradise
And of some future worth?
The Lord replied, the streets were those
Where Gospel truths are taught...
Where love can blossom like the rose,
Through peace that Christ has bought...
His Blood atones for souls set free,
No matter, young or old...
It's by our faith in Calvary,
Saints' streets are paved with gold...
(July 2011)
poem by Denis Martindale
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Christmas Day
A young gentleman came riding past,
On a snow blue winters day,
He asked to drink by our fire
And I was pleased to let him stay,
He drank there quietly for a while,
And then he turned and said to me,
Your eyes are green,
Like summer grass,
Your lips are red,
Like a fresh cut rose,
Your hair is soft,
Like an Irish stream,
And your voice,
Is filled with sweet beauty
And the last words I heard him say
Were I shall return,
For you,
My love,
On Christmas Day
And the night will come,
But I won't sleep,
As I watch the stars that lead him,
I cannot place where he is,
But still my heart goes with him,
I'm saving all my Sunday clothes
For the day that I'll be leaving,
Father knows,
My sister knows,
And my friends,
They're happy for me,
And the priest he says,
You should thank God,
For the blessing,
Of such beauty
And the last words
I heard him say,
Were I shall return,
For you,
My love,
On Christmas Day
I shall return,
For you,
My love,
On Christmas Day
(On Christmas Day)
(I shall return for you my love)
And the last words
I heard him say
Were the last words
I ever
Heard him say
I shall return,
For you,
My love
On Christmas Day
I swear,
I will return,
On Christmas Day,
And yes,
I shall return,
On Christmas Day,
I shall return,
For you,
On Christmas Day
My love,
I will return,
On Christmas Day
I shall return,
My love
On Christmas Day
On Christmas Day
song performed by by Dido
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life's Payment
The Devil will take you by the hand
And then he will tell you not to fear
His beliefs and ways you will understand
As he becomes your puppeteer,
You will walk the road that he has paved
Excuses will be the answers for your evil and sin
Then while you're heading for your grave
Only then will you understand the evil within.
GOD will try to take hold of your hand
And will lead you away from sin and transgression
In return truth and righteousness he will demand
And no more hate, or greed, or aggression,
Man knows in life what to withstand
And as the wise man to me once did say
If the devil takes you by the hand,
GOD; will make you pay.
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Christmas Day
A young gentleman came riding past
On a snow blue winters day
He asked to drink, by our fire,
And I was pleased to let him stay
He drank there quietly for a while,
Then he turned and said to me
Your eyes are green, like summer grass,
Your lips are red like a fresh cut rose,
Your hair is soft like an irish stream
And your voice is filled with sweet beauty
And the last words I heard him say
Were I shall return, for you, my love, on christmas day
The night will come but I wont sleep,
As I watch the stars that lead him,
I cannot place where his is,
But still my heart goes with him,
Im savin all my sunday clothes
For the day the day that Ill be leavin
Father knows, my sister knows,
And my friends, theyre happy for me
And the priest he says, you should thank god,
For the blessing of such beauty,
And the last words I heard him say
Were I shall return for you, my love, on christmas day
I shall return for you, my love, on christmas day.
And the last words I heard him say
Were the last words I ever heard him say
I shall return for you, my love, on christmas day
I swear, I will return on christmas day,
And yes, I shall return on christmas day
I shall return, for you, on christmas day,
My love I will return on christmas day,
I shall return, my love on christmas day
On christmas day...
song performed by by Dido
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sniffing For Treats Left By Teasers
Not another offensive comment made to me,
To have it defined with a staying to stick in my mind...
Can be said,
That will introduce a shuffling of my feet seen...
As a self demeaning prophesy.
And I will not be the one staying up all night,
With the writing of speeches to deliver...
An acceptance long wished with an approval done.
I was not groomed to live me life,
Sniffing for treats left by teasers.
I've spent too long clearing brush off my path,
To acknowledge my own steps I've taken...
Came aided with the strength of my faith.
As those naysayers on the sidelines...
Awaited for their paths to be paved in fools' gold.
Those opportunities laid out for me...
I initiated by the signing of my own signature.
With dates, origin and expected destinations!
I knew early the fate created for me,
Was not going to be an expectation...
Given with an assistance by a hand delivery.
Not in the field I needed to mow, sow reap and harvest.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Its Been Too Long To Say I'm Sorry
Entitled: “Its Been Too Long to Say I'm Sorry'
H.L.Swanson
Although I know you’ve probably forgot
And you know I probably have not
You see why I still need to say I’m sorry
But it's been too long to say I'm sorry
It’s been too long to say I’m sorry
But oh I wish I could
For there is now a strength to say the words
And life now appears to be showing
But it’s been too long to say I’m sorry
But no excuses to be made
I must say I'm sorry
It’s been too long to say I’m sorry
But you see I must give it a try
For the anguish that I caused I never meant to be
Just something that was wrong which never should have began
For it's always best to make it right
But it’s been too long to say I’m sorry
But no excuses to be made
I must say I'm sorry
It's been too long to say I'm Sorry
But hoping that you will see and understand
If only I could, Id say, I’m sorry
poem by Helen Louise Swanson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Excuses Executable
If it's wanted one works nonstop.
And...
If it's wanted one has to be,
On top...
Of their game.
With persistence that remains,
Consistent and unchanged.
They're no excuses executable,
To keep up.
Or using fake tools to fool,
To attract one luck.
They're no excuses executable,
To keep up...
When a wish is wanted to appear,
That much.
They're no excuses executable,
To keep up.
Or using fake tools to attract one luck.
They're no excuses executable,
To keep up...
When a wish is wanted to appear,
That much to touch.
They're no excuses executable,
To keep up.
Not when one wants something so bad,
And so much...
To touch!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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America has also forever lost the service of thousands of good soldiers who are now disabled as a result of battle wounds in Iraq. Many others will need mental and emotional rehabilitation before they can return to normal life.
quote by John Olver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Return Trip
I will return to my place of Birth
To that place before Mother Earth
I will return to that Day of Awakening
To that Day of a New Beginning
I will return to my very first Sun
My very first Moon, my very first Star
I will return to that place that never was far
I will return to the land of the Beautiful,
the Good, the Grateful
Where there is nothing to forgive
For there is no sin
Where there is no regret
Life is what you dream
Where Innocence is never put to test
Where all is Sacred and blessed with Happiness
I will return to my place and time of Birth
I will return
I am not Cursed
poem by Sonya Florentino
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Standards of Life That Qualifies Their Absurdities
Fatherless,
Of those fatherless...
Insisting to uphold dysfunctions,
They choose to dismiss...
To excuse their visits,
To those who sit being rehabilitated...
In prisons.
Persisting to have their way,
In a society where they 'raise'
Their babies!
Beyond self examination they come.
Some refusing to confront their own abuse.
Believing they can do as they wish.
As they sit to pamper a way of life...
That burdens tax payer's rights!
While inflicting these conflicts...
To produce more excuses.
That house convicts...
Within just a slice...
Of those standards of life,
That qualifies their absurdities!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Nuitritional Value Of The Food Fed
Anyone who has already been convinced,
That conflict and confrontation is a part of life...
To be accepted and tolerated,
Are those who rush to defend the acts,
Of their disrespectful children who lack discipline.
And they are among the same people...
Who question the nuitritional value of the food fed,
To those who are locked up for their crimes commited...
While spending rehabilitation time in prisons,
Learning updated ways to be corrupt and deceiving.
As those continue to spend taxpayers 'bucks'...
Denying they have a point of view,
That actively advocates an appreciation for decadence.
'No one here is debating 'why' these young people,
Must repay society for their misdeeds.
However...
We feel it is most important and imperative,
That our youth today...
Be given a daily dose of the correct percentage,
Of vitamin A, E, C and D.
With a mineral supplement to maintain a healthy appearance.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Excuses
Yo, whats up, this is Ginuwine
And I wanna tell you
It aint no time for excuses with your woman
You be right or you be out, ya heard
Do it right, check this is out
This is my story
Theres a time that comes in a mans life
When is real, want it all, when his mind is right
It could come at any time, morning, noon or night
You would know at the time, nothing more to fight
He might not, and I know cause Ive done the same
You know Im right there with you, dog, but she wont
play the game
She will be done packed your bags, sit em all there
right outside your door
Cause shes tired of the lyin s*** and she aint
takin no more, oh, no she aint
Excuses (Everybody has one)
Excuses (She dont wanna hear them no more, oh)
Excuses (She said take that s*** elsewhere)
Excuses (She dont wanna hear no), excuses {She dont}
Excuses (She aint got time for them)
Excuses (So dont fill her mind with them, no)
Excuses (She said take that s*** elsewhere)
Excuses (She dont wanna hear no), excuses {She dont}
Take her out, hold her hand, let her know youll die
for her
Cause thats your lady, yes, thats your baby
Shes a seed, feed her well, watch her blossom out
And only the real players out there can dig what Im
talkin bout
Be that man, be that one, do the things she loves
Pay attention, should I mention how it all was once
You broke your neck just to get her, dont you pull
back now
Cause sooner or later shell be gone, what youre
askin now
Excuses (Everybody has one)
Excuses (But she dont wanna hear them no more, oh, no
she dont)
Excuses (She said take that s*** elsewhere)
Excuses (Oh...), excuses {She dont}
Excuses (Yeah, she)
Excuses (Dont fill her mind)
Excuses (She said take that s*** else, oh, yes, she
did)
Excuses, excuses (Listen) {She dont}
Dont fake nor front, tell her now
Make your choice right now
Tell her where you stand
Youre no boy or little kid, youre grown
Standin big, young man
Think what brought that in, ooh
All that s*** youre talkin bout like you aint
heard the phone
Shes up on it, dog, shes up on it, dog
And all that fake s*** like your beeper was off
Shes up on it, dog, shes up on it, dog (Ooh...)
Excuses (Everybody gots one)
Excuses (She dont wanna hear them)
Excuses (She said take that s*** elsewhere)
Excuses, excuses {She dont} (She dont)
Excuses (She aint got time for them)
Excuses (So dont fill her mind with them)
Excuses (Huh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no)
Excuses (No, no, no), excuses {She dont} (She dont
wanna)
Excuses (She dont wanna hear no excuses)
Excuses (Ooh, she dont wanna)
Excuses (Come on)
Excuses (She dont wanna hear them), excuses {She
dont}
Excuses (She aint got time, huh, she dont feel them)
Excuses (Ooh, ooh, she dont deserve)
Excuses (No, huh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no)
Excuses, excuses (She dont wanna) {She dont}
Excuses
song performed by by Ginuwine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Many Years Have Now Passed
I was a young patriotic Black man back then.
Wanting to protect 'my' country.
My neighbors.
My family and friends.
When I enlisted into the military!
And when I was 'released'...
Wishing to return to those,
I helped 'free' from the enemies.
I was treated like dirt!
As I observed a clarity of selfishness and greed.
With the same intent that still continues.
As if my efforts...
Even to me made less sense!
And I try not to stay embittered.
Since many years have now passed.
As have many of those comrades I knew...
With remnants lying and now perhaps rotted,
Under manicured grass.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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