Call That Vanity
I remember once being told I was nothing but fluff.
With a life that would lead to nothing,
Because I was not made of the right stuff.
And purposely I see these folks.
And keep my mouth close shut.
Since most of them are limping with canes,
If not laying flat on their butts!
And I am happy and glad my stuff is fluff.
With a still muscled butt that allows my strut!
And please by all means,
Call that vanity!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Giving Eye Contact
If I appeared here,
To fill your ears with fluff...
You wouldn't hear a word,
I had to say!
Since the fluff stuff you believe,
Protects you from experiencing...
A brusing done to your ego.
And I am clearly not in masquerade.
Already...
Without one word I utter,
You are prepared to be afraid.
Although you are the one that struts around.
And I am the one giving eye contact.
Without one dropp of sweat to be found.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why Do Folks Just Make Up Stuff?
Why do folks just make up stuff?
Even those who traditionally lie professionally,
And have kept it this way for centuries...
Can be noticed becoming increasingly appalled,
By this relatively new trend in communication.
Their lies are being amended,
By the telling of lies more outrageously told.
And to say they are offended,
Is an understatement.
They can be seen blowing off steam.
Why do folks just make up stuff?
Not even good made up stuff at that.
There is weak made up stuff being made.
Low grade although acceptable.
And this can be seen,
As a detriment to standards kept...
That has begun to threaten values,
Being questioned by the youth...
Graduating with degrees of higher learning,
With no where to apply their lessons learned.
As those who just make up stuff,
Are making themselves more credible.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fluffhead
Fluffhead was a man
With a horrible disease
Could not find no cure
Wont you help him if you please?
Fluff came to my door / fluff came to new york (two parts)
Askin me for change
His eyes were clear and pure
But his mind was so deranged
Fluff went to a banker
Askin for some bills
The banker said, I aint got that
But I sure got some powerful pills.
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Putter In the Muck
Don't putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Don't putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Don't putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Pack that sad act you do,
And put it away!
Don't putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Don't putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Don't putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Pack that sad act you do...
And put it away!
Don't economize,
Your happiness.
One bit.
Give that up!
Don't apologize,
For an 'is' that 'is'
Don't quit.
OR give that up!
Don't get paralyzed,
When the lies fly.
And you realize
That the lies are all about you!
Just don't,
Putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Just don't,
Putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Pack that sad act you do...
And put it away!
Just don't,
Putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Pack that sad act you do...
And put it away!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Put a Sock In It
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Today there is just too much stuff.
And people are getting fed up!
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Today there is just too much stuff.
And people are getting fed up!
Many getting sick of the pickiness started.
And when it gets sticky they can not stop.
Instigating agitation with annoyance.
Dropping all they've got to tie a mind in knots.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Today there is just too much stuff.
And people are getting fed up!
Can't you see them strike poses and begin to 'cheese'.
Then plop on their knees,
To make their pleas.
These same folks cry about bad luck.
With claims their butts are stuck in ruts.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Today there is just too much stuff.
And people are getting fed up!
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Folks have had enough,
And fed up!
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Folks have had enough,
And fed up!
Folks have had enough.
Folks have had enough.
Folks have had enough.
And fed up!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Lovely Picnic with Friends
Oh what a lovely day it was
The weather warm and sweet
Packed with friends we cherish
No better folks could you meet
We barbequed dogs on the grill
Out in the bright sunshine
Enjoying the open sky to eat
A meal that was truly fine
Burgers too were grilled just right
Topped with onions and stuff
Just simple tasty scrumptious food
Without a lot of unnecessary fluff
Deviled eggs so perfectly made
With a sprinkle of paprika on top
A delicious blend of flavors
That really truly hit the spot
It was a day we will remember
Good food, good friends together
Can’t ask for a more relaxing time
With the gift of perfect fall weather!
poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tear It Up
(john burnette, dorsey burnette & paul burlison)
Come on, little baby, lets tear that dance floor up
Come on, little baby, lets tear that dance floor up.
Come on, little mama, let me see you strut your stuff.
Im a leavin, little baby, gonna be gone a long, long time.
Im a leavin, little baby, gonna be gone a long, long time.
Well come on honey and show me a real good time.
Tear it up! tear it up!
Tear it up! tear it up!
Come on little baby let me see you strut your stuff.
[instrumental verse]
Tear it up! tear it up!
Tear it up! tear it up!
Come on little baby let me see you strut your stuff.
Well you step back baby, and you move my way,
Step around again and let me hear you say
Tear it up! tear it up!
Come on little baby, let me see you strut your stuff.
Tear it up! tear it up!
Tear it up! tear it up!
Come on little mama let me see you strut your stuff.
Tear it up! tear it up!
Tear it up! tear it up!
Come on little mama let me see you strut your stuff.
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fluff Seekers
Fluff seekers know where to go,
To get their daily fix.
And those wishing to get their reality,
Straight up with no chaser...
Like to remain sober as long as possible.
Although their activity may not be received,
As popular.
And today...
People can not seem to get enough fluff.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not Here To Coddle Those Who Model In A Molded Moaning Done
Your gruffed up stuff,
Has gotten to be over-the-top.
And far too much.
To say I've had enough,
Is an understatement...
From a tongue I 'try' to hush.
Listening how your life is too tough,
Has made it difficult sometimes...
To keep my own mouth shut.
Take this hint from me,
Sympathies are not as freely given...
As they use to be.
And forget about 'empathy'!
'You' will not get that from me at all.
I've had enough of listening,
How your life is too tough.
And the suffering you've done,
With a daily roughness...
You can not overcome!
Why can't you hush up that 'muscle'
And muffle it?
No one 'here' wants to hear,
That continuous 'ssshhhssstuff'!
You've created that rut.
I've got a motto I choose to follow.
I'm not here to coddle those who model,
In a molded moaning of their lives...
That's done a lot!
I've had to stop.
Your gruffed up stuff,
Has gotten to be over-the-top.
And far too much.
To say I've had enough,
Is an understatement...
From a tongue I 'try' to hush.
Listening how your life is too tough,
Has made it difficult sometimes...
To keep my own mouth shut.
But I am learning.
Some lessons taught,
Are not as easy to learn as others!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give It to Them Their Way
Give it to them.
Their way.
Let them have it.
Their way.
Keep your mouth shut.
Let them get hit,
By the approaching truck.
And if they survive...
Don't even offer to help them get up,
Off their butts!
Your kindness was given once before.
Remember then,
When you were ignored?
Remember when you were first at their aid?
And you were surprised they gave to you 'shade'?
Remember when you gave your last dollar from your pocket?
And when you needed them...
You never heard from them again?
And now they appear to ask what you think!
About a situation,
That has them on the edge.
Sitting on the brink!
Give it to them.
Their way.
Let them have it.
Their way.
Keep your mouth shut.
Let them get hit,
By the approaching truck.
And if they survive...
Don't even offer to help them get up,
Off their butts!
Your kindness was given once before.
Remember then,
When you were ignored?
And there is no need...
For you to be used,
Or abused...
As they please!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fluff
So take it all
I've got enough
Not gonna fall
Deep down I'm tough
No one to call
You got it rough
Not gonna crawl
Through all that stuff
I hit the wall
And called your bluff
You stood so tall
You looked so rough
But now you're small
A wisp of puff
No need to stall
Leave in a huff
It takes some gall
To spew that guff
Get down the hall
You're only fluff
poem by Paul H Nelson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bangkok
Gotcha!
Hey sucker let me outa here!
Hey, man!
Bangkok on a sunny day
The rain has washed the blood away
Thousand of veins left in the streets
But I cant wash away the red points
On the sheets of the hotels
And the cheap rooms
Of the cheap whores
Under palm trees
Under palm trees
My brain is running in circles now
I gotta cure the pain somehow
Theres a coloured cloud in front of sun
And a face is trying to cheat me
And to take away the fun
And the killer troups of the dea
Have just brought my friend away
In the stuff that dreams are made of
In the stuff that dreams are made of
Stuff that dreams are made of
Hey, hey, hey!
Stuff that dreams are made of
Stuff that dreams are made of
Hey, hey, hey!
Stuff
Stuff that dreams
Are made of...
song performed by by Fury In The Slaughterhouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sup?
'The usual stuff.
I see the same folks stuck.
Draggin' their butts from rut to rut.
Complaining about their bad luck...
While others do their best,
To pull themselves up.'
I see you struttin'.
Doesn't seem like you much troubled,
'Bout too much or nuthin'!
'I see it and I don't.
Aint got time for misery.
And I'm not 'bout to get on my knees...
Just to see somebody pleased,
I can do it.
I don' been through that mess.
You 'member I was distressed,
And express that to you.
As you pretended to listen to me confess,
From my point of view.
'Sup with you? '
The usual stuff.
I see the same folks stuck.
Draggin' their butts from rut to rut.
Complaining about their bad luck...
While others do their best,
To pull themselves up.
'I see.
Looks like you and me,
Got lots in common? '
Yep!
Which goes to show...
Even though we think 'we' different from the others,
We haven't moved too far...
From where they are.
'Yeah!
But don't it feel good to know sumthin'
'Bout movin' on?
Even if it is going 'round in circles? '
I guess!
They are there and we are here.
But it looks like they've got a better way,
Of avoiding paying more taxes.
And I 'use' to think the gov'ment was helping them out?
'Naw man,
That's how them folks got there in the first place!
How many liars and thieves you know,
Live like this? '
Well...
'None!
Where you goin'?
To that job fair? '
Might as well.
Seems to be the routine.
Either I'm over qualified...
Or I've got bad credit!
And when I 'was' qualified...
I stayed in a rut!
That's wassup!
'Stayin' in that rut, huh? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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These times
And soon the vaults were empty
of the stuff we call money
as many lost sleep at night
in a dream of deep fright
Horrific story after story was told
by folks we know, and in the news
by folks starting careers so new
by folks growing tired and old
Then came a call so bold
carried by The Voice of old
to be learned from our Earth
in these times of dearth
Listen to the call my friends:
water for life
water for all
water for survival
water for food
water for stability
water for equality
One by one, people began to listen
of a new change rising on the horizon
But for some the call was lost
in hearts of heartless greed
who care not of water in time of need
And so the banks remained empty
of the stuff we call money
and many lost sleep at night
in a waking dream filled with fright
poem by William Waterway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Zero Zip Are The Benefits
Poofed in a boosting up to fluff.
Like a smooth cream puff of stuff.
But undeniably rough and tough.
And independently appearing to be mean.
Yet....
Just a moody individual adjusting to the scene.
Dedicated with a seriousness.
And not giving time to wasting lip.
Or one who sits around to start an argument.
There is no benefit...
The benefits are limited.
Zero zip zero zip are the benefits.
Poofed in a boosting up to fluff.
Like a smooth cream puff of stuff.
But undeniably rough and tough.
And independently appearing to be mean.
Yet....
Just a moody individual adjusting to the scene.
Dedicated with a seriousness.
And not giving time to wasting lip.
Or one who sits around to start an argument.
There is no benefit...
The benefits are limited.
Zero zip are the benefits.
And poofed up blown to be gone!
Dedicated with a seriousness.
And not giving time to wasting lip.
Or one who sits around to start an argument.
There is no benefit...
The benefits are limited.
Zero zip are the benefits!
And...
Too poofed with fluff and sent on!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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These Times
And soon the vaults were empty
of the stuff we call money
as many lost sleep at night
in a dream of deep fright
Horrific story after story was told
by folks we know, and in the news
by folks starting careers so new
by folks growing tired and old
Then came a call so bold
carried by The Voice of old
to be learned from our Earth
in these times of dearth
Listen to the call my friends:
water for life
water for all
water for survival
water for food
water for economic stability
water in the name of equality
One by one, people began to listen
of a new change rising on the horizon
But for some the call was lost
in hearts of heartless greed
who care not of water in time of need
And so the banks remained empty
of the stuff we call money
and many lost sleep at night
in a waking dream of deep fright
poem by William E. Marks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thorns And Thick Brush
Sometimes there is a reason why
Fluff rises to the top
Thorns and thick brush on paths
Can be a bit too much
To endure to secure
A clearing that provides
Undeniable understanding
That comes to strip one
From a fantasized past
And expected fluff
Entertains the senses
Rushed by an overflowing of reality
Pricking nerves seeking to be sedated
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not Afrocentric Enough
Years ago...
They acted as if,
I was an embarrassment to them.
Not Afrocentric enough.
Even though I had identity,
Branded on my 'strut-and-stuff'!
My name, Lawrence Suhuba
Yuroban selected.
Doubling the meaning of my given name.
Suhuba (Lawrence) now Lawrence S.
Proud of my heritage and having no shame!
None to confess.
Today I 'strut' with my stuff all over the internet.
Doing what I've done most of my life.
And that's write.
And I might have been an embarrassment to them then...
But 'them' not feeling comfortable to be who they are now,
Should embarrass them more!
Since having no identity today,
Makes little sense since everything folks have lived for...
To impress with materialism has diminished in value.
And everything they are has been invested in it!
My head is held high...
Most times.
If I am not in deep thought!
And...
I might not have a dime in my pocket.
Most times,
My mind tells me I'm worth millions!
And I look to the ground,
Just to make sure I'm not dropping any of it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stuff Like That
Stuff llike that
I get a feeling of melochany
Doing stuff like that
Brings back memories
Nostalgia
The way it used to be
The unity and promises
Made by other,
Regarding you and me
Stuff like was once so easy
Wonder people no longer do
Stuff lkke that
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Brutal
I don't sauté what I say,
With puffed up fluff!
When I 've had enough...
I get brutal.
I don't offer apple strudel.
Or beat around the bush.
I'm not into fuzzy wuzzy stuff.
Or get cuddly to patch things up!
I don't sauté what I have to say,
With puffed up fluff for you!
When I've had enough...
And the going gets tough,
I get brutal.
I don't offer apple strudel.
I get brutal.
Or chicken soup with noodle.
I get brutal.
When games are lame.
And the aim is the same.
Putting my name to shame.
And wanting me to take the blame.
For something I know,
From the start I didn't do?
Because you think it's cute...
To use me as a substitute!
I don't bite my lip...
And pretend I'm not pissed!
You try to do me in...
And then you turn around and grin?
Thinking I wont do,
What now you know I can and will...
To you!
Yes...
Your looks could kill,
But I wont be a pig in swill.
I will get brutal.
I don't offer apple strudel.
I get brutal.
Or chicken soup with noodle.
I get brutal.
When games are lame.
And the aim is the same.
Putting my name to shame.
And wanting me to take the blame.
For something I know,
From the start I didn't do?
You think I'm a wimp in a pink tutu?
With a tutti fruiti tattoo on my booty too?
I wont sauté what I say,
With puffed up fluff for you.
When I've had enough...
I get brutal.
I don't offer apple strudel.
I get brutal.
Or chicken soup with noodle.
I get brutal.
I don't sauté what I say,
Or look away...
With my dignity played!
Not me.
Oh no!
You see...
I don't offer fantasy!
I'll give you brutal.
That's all I offer to you,
Is the brutal.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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