Composed Of Mind
Silence is mostly appreciated,
By those composed of mind.
Unrested egos seek to be soothe,
With vocalized encouragements...
Coming from outside sources.
To store within as if to comfort.
Believing that a peace follows.
Only to feel a vanishing appeal.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What You Get Is a Pinch to Feel
I'm here to bite not to lick.
Or to soothe blemished egos.
I'm not one to sit and kiss a bruise.
Nor spread honey,
On an attacking wolfe's lips.
What you get is a pinch to feel.
I will not keep things deluded,
For your appeal.
I wish to keep things real.
It makes life more appreciated.
And to leave the deceit of thieves...
To plot their misdeeds,
Upon minds fantasized about 'their' realities!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Autumn Rain
While I sit here and ponder
I don’t see I’m drowning in my pain,
I was blinded by the sorrow
My tears have left a pool and a stain,
My heart was left broken
My mind was in a darkened haze
I’m sitting here dwelling in my final phase
Far away from my glory days
Ingrained in my mind
Are deep memories of pain,
The days of yesteryear bridges never fade away
A painful tragedy like thunder in my veins
But never are they washed away by the rain,
They embody me and so are here to stay
I lost myself so long ago
There’s no one I can blame
Autumn rain falls on me with
An eternal sunrise that never climbs
Autumn rain coming down
Another shattered soul in the lost and found
I feel I’m vanishing, vanishing gone
In autumn rain
I feel I’m vanishing, vanishing gone
In autumn rain
poem by Daniel Richards
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Within
The comfort of one's place,
Does not come from the outside.
It is the comfort one has inside that reflects.
And that is kept rejuvenated from one's perception.
A development of one's peace of mind,
Over time is constructed.
And not determined by anyone's agenda.
The comfort kept that comes to one deserving is within.
'Any happiness I have is not based upon your decision.
I know this is traumatic.
And the more I stay away from that which isn't me...
I feel a peace increase I wish I could sell.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Soothe Sayer
Open up your eyes, see the world around you
It's not what we thought it was. it's not what we were told.
Flashing signs before us. they're even reading the last rites.
All our systems have failed us. now they've turned out the lights.
Soothe sayer. the miracle's just begun. what a cool player.
Love is the only one! soothe sayer.
New age, millenium. the coming of the new messiah.
Wall street, big businesses, pretending it's alright.
Preachers lost in ministry, while the sinners laugh and mock.
Angels watching helplessly the final ticking of the clock!
Soothe sayer. got you on the run. what a cool player. love is the only one!
Soothe sayer. got 'em on the run. what a mind blower. love is the only one!
Soothe sayer.
When you walk that rocky road, you need food to feed your soul.
I'll help you with that heavy load, until you reach your home!
Your not alone!
Soothe sayer. the miracle's just begun. what a cool player.
Love is the only one. soothe sayer. soothe sayer.
The devils on the run. what a cruel player.
Love is the only one! soothe sayer!
Open up your heart. look up in to the sky.
Feel the energy around you and know that we must try.
Love's the new reality, the true saviour of this world.
We're gonna live through this insanity. you better hold on to me guru!
Soothe sayer. soothe sayer
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Harlem Rain
R.sambora
The old man down on the corner
Is downing in his pain
I can see the sorrow in his eyes
His tears, the leave a stain
The streets have left him broken
Hes in the final phase
Its been a long hard road
From his glory days.
Theres a tatoo of his sweetheart
Fading on his arm
He talks of painful tragedy
How he lost his lucky charm
His memory is clouded
From the thunder in this vein
Hes vanishing, vanishing gone
In the harlem rain.
Harlem rain coming down
Another shattered soul
In the lost and found
One more night
On the street of pain
Getting washed away by the harlem rain.
On desperation avenue
The devil takes his toll
Where the pushers and the poverty
Slowly claim your soul
When you reached the realization
That you just cant break the chain, no
Youre vanishing, vanishing gone
In the harlem rain.
Harlem rain coming down
Another shattered soul
In the lost and found
One more night
On the street of pain
Getting washed away by the harlem rain (harlem rain).
In your seach for tender mercy
No one seemed to care
The faith that used to be your crutch
Is now your cross to bear
You last yourself so long ago
You dont know who to blame
Youre vanishing, vanishing gone
Vanishing, vanishing gone
Vanishing, vanishing gone
In the harlem rain.
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Familiar With the Routine of It
People who inflict pain on others,
Do not feel the intensity of it.
But they are quick to seek
A forgetting in one's forgiveness.
And relying upon that happening...
To ease the guilt of their transgressions.
They have become too familiar with the routine of it.
And the sincerety has long been missing from their eyes!
Why do they wonder in surprise...
That a peace of mind as described,
Has never been their experience?
Nor comes to comfort them in their darkness!
Something that eludes them.
This 'peace' rumored to exist in minds!
They can not pay for it...
Even if they wished!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What Is It That You Understand And How?
The only time you will come to know,
The agony of my pain...
Is when you find yourself alone,
And there is no one who will come...
To soothe with comfort.
Or struggle in the sharing with you to feel it.
I'll say that again!
The only time you will come to know,
The agony of my pain...
Is when you find yourself alone,
And there is no one who will come...
To soothe with comfort.
Or struggle in the sharing with you to feel it.
I'll repeat this if I have to...
But,
I doubt very seriously...
If you have a clue as to how I feel.
That's why I am quite surprise to hear you say,
You understand.
What is it that you understand?
And how?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Silence Of Edgar's Mind
Edgar had an evil approach
to his writing and to his
poetry that he composed
inside his mind and on
the paper that he wrote
upon.
His characters inside
his stories and poetry
had a shattered affect
that seem to have consumed
his mind as he wrote inside
the silence of his mind.
The silence of Edgar's
mind, gave him the evil
and the turmoilless thoughts
that shaped his short stories
and poetry into what it became
today.
But when i read his
poetry i can feel
his tortured soul
having so-much contorl
over him, that him
begins to battle
with his chastisng
emotions and his soul
That was forever making
him write the poetry
and the shoet stories
that he was chosen to
write until the end of
his life that he lived,
As he found himself
so desparately etched
with the loneliness
of being who he was as
a person.
As i got inside the
silence of Edgar Allan
Poe's mind i found a
constant struggle of
selfless-convictions
coming undone before me
as i read his work out loud.
poem by Erie Morganmaples
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What It Is That Does This
Sometimes I have to force myself,
To shut down and turn off.
Sometimes my need succeeds,
Unrested.
And I am at a lost,
To find an excuse...
To direct this 'energy'.
That 'boost' that uses me.
Believing I control.
And I am the boss.
But I am not!
And I wish I could tell you,
Who is!
Or what it is that does this!
Although I may know why.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When Words Aren't Enough
I don't know what to say...
I know,
When does that ever happen,
Right?
But,
You've left me speechless
And,
I don't know what to say.
Sometimes,
There is nothing
To
Say
Because
Words can't convey
Can't soothe
Don't help
Aren't enough.
There are those times
When
Silence
Says more than words ever could.
It brings its own comfort,
There is an understanding there..
With
Silence
Because
Sometimes
Words are too much,
Yet
Not enough.
poem by Rabia Minhas
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Perfect Peace
I ponder deeply in my mind
For thoughts of peace and how to find
It only comes from deep within
You cannot fake it or pretend
Real peace comes when your mind is at rest
Knowing through life you've given your best
Believing in a greater power than we
Holding no grudges, being totally free
Having no ill will against neighbor or kin
Knowing the peace maker is living within
Giving of self to help others in need
Looking for nothing in return for a deed
Being true to one's self no matter the price
It's better to give until it becomes sacrifice
If you want to feel that total release
Then try all of this and you know perfect peace
poem by Brenda Whitlock
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What to look for in a mate
What to look for in a mate
Look for someone who makes you feel appreciated
Search for someone who you appreciate too
Find that someone who you feel has been fated
To share life and fortune, be faithful and true
Discover someone who, when you talk, listens
Seek out someone who shows faith and kindness
Pursue that someone whose soul seems to glisten
Who, to selfishness and prejudice shows only blindness
Look for someone, who first looks out for others
Someone who feels on your level, not above
Embrace the one who will hug, yet not smother
Let not appearance guide your search for your love
Firstly look for someone who makes you feel appreciated
Someone who you know will never wander or lie
And….If they fit all the above, and are good lookin to boot
Snatch them up, treat em’ good, til the day that you die
poem by David Whalen
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We are all treading the vanishing road of a song in the air, the vanishing road of the spring flowers and the winter snows, the vanishing roads of the winds and the streams, the vanishing road of beloved faces.
quote by Richard Le Gallienne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Self Called Nowhere
Im sitting on the curb
By the empty parking lot
Of the store where they let me play the organ
Im waiting for my ride
But I want to wait inside
Of the store where they let me play the organ
But Im thinking of a wooden chair
In a room at the top of a stair
And Im looking down the stairwell
At the vanishing dot
On the map of the spot
Let me take you there
The dotted line
Surrounding the mind
Of a self called nowhere
Its a thing named it
In a bottomless pit
You cant see it there
The sunken head
That lies in the bed
Of a self called nowhere
Standing in my yard
Where they tore down the garage
To make room for the torn down garage
Im looking for my car
But I must have sold my car
When I needed to buy an electric organ
But Im thinking of a wooden chair
In a room at the top of a stair
And Im looking down the stairwell
At the vanishing dot
On the map of the spot
Let me take you there
The dotted line
Surrounding the mind
Of a self called nowhere
Its a thing named it
In a bottomless pit
You cant see it there
The sunken head
That lies in the bed
Of a self called nowhere
Nowhere
The vanishing dot
On the map of the spot
Let me take you there
The dotted line
Surrounding the mind
Of a self called nowhere
Its a thing named it
In a bottomless pit
You cant see it there
The sunken head
That lies in the bed
Of a self called
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peace, Maurice
Peace,
Maurice.
Lifted by the Sunrise,
Coming from the East.
Energizing throughout the day.
To rest.
As the comfort of deeds done...
Settles you in contentment.
As the Sunset in the West,
Comes.
To leave you pleased...
With all that you've done!
Dedicated To:
Maurice D. Robertson
'Photgrapher extraordinaire.
And jazz buff...
To soothe the airwaves,
From a DJ's chair.
(WWUH-FM, Hartford)
With history of jazz artists...
And more to share! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Early Morning Silence
Sitting in the early morning silence
that hasn’t filled with
the approaching days gloom.
That time when the mind
has a chance to run free.
The early morning silence
when no one is around.
The intrusive world has not
invaded our space with idle chatter
from sources that surround us
making up our daily lives.
The early morning silence
we need to activate our mind.
You sit in the darkness
just before the dawn appears
enjoying the solitary that is temporary stillness
brings to your ears.
The early morning silence
when no one is around.
16 September 2010
poem by David Harris
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Feel the dark
Feel the dark, black as coal
and soft as velvet,
beneath your fingertips
Dark is upon the night
Darkness all about me
In my own solemn silence
The silence has substance
As thick as can be
Silence about me
As loud as a scream
In a nightmarish dream
It can terrify me
Silence has a feel
Of darkness in silk cloaked
As a desperate cry being choked
Phantasmic, yet real
As Quiet surrounds me
The silence has substance
The absence of presence
is deafening to me
Those sounds of silence
Cry out to those who seek
The companionship of shadows.
A vast endless vacuum
Of blackened day,
I am sucked into an existence
summoning the cold from the depths
Where darkness looms over,
It cradles me in comfort,
Blankets me with security.
Released from the mares that haunt the mind
And taken in by them
The shielding shadows of the dark,
I am embellished with life anew
And unleashing the fear the light kept hidden.
Away from the solitude reaped
By the scars of wounds that bite.
In a playground of discontent
with creeping shadows
In an asylum of euphoria,
Under the veil of darkness
Do I smile and frolic,
Soothed by the kiss of night.
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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I'd Like My Pockets To Be As Full
My days and nights,
And appetite to live my life right...
Is a quest sometimes,
That leaves me unrested.
I wish to share and seek happiness.
Not to reminisce those obstacles I've dismissed.
So many today seem dismayed.
Stuck in ruts they replay everyday.
And offering nothing but despair to express.
I understand those difficulties...
Especially the ones that come to test!
But I've discovered it was best for me,
To see my cup half filled.
I've discovered it was best for me,
Not to dramatize my ills.
Or over burden others with them,
In an overkill.
Today we all can say,
We've made mistakes and had heartbreaks.
Today we all can come to agree...
We are disappointed with 'something'
Connected to the economy!
I'd like my pockets to be as full,
As that cup I imagine filled with gold.
And I pull it.
Glad to drag it behind me!
My days and nights,
And appetite to live my life right...
Is a quest sometimes,
That leaves me unrested.
I wish to share and seek happiness.
Not to reminisce those obstacles I've dismissed.
Or bore anyone with the repetition of it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sins Of Omission
On the fringes of torso and lips
Straining to hear the voice of gospel choir
Pummelled plains and beaten fields
Were never broken in spirit within
But I feel like were coming around
Yes, I feel like were coming around
Tell me
Cloud burst teeming, insect wave and bite
Yes its true, we are not alone
Tv silence its a narrow entrance
Its a sometimes leading into future time
But I feel like were coming around
Yes, I feel like were coming around
I feel like were coming around
Sins of omission, no love
Sins of omission
I heard it once before in shepherds isolation
Over the horizon in blue and white now, now
Now overcome you can outrun it
When the roarings cease and the right stuff weaves and fits into your life
And I feel like were coming around
Yes I feel like Im coming around, tell me
Sins of omission, no love
Sins
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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More Elusive
A fallen leaf can not be revived,
Or returned to thrive on a disgarding tree.
A force implemented to do a will rejected...
Finds no success accepted.
We are here to conquer our own inadequate ways!
Share those discoveries,
And build together on that foundation!
Unsatisfied that our own nests have crumbled...
We then seek ways to shake others,
From their places of comfort!
Believing this destruction benefits a peace,
That grows more elusive!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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