Conditions To Heal Go Ignored
What can not be erased or faced,
Surfaces time and time again to disgrace.
An embarrassment does not aid,
In the replacement that degrades.
And not admitting the affects,
That still shows its defects infesting...
Will not disappear,
If it is apparent and made clear...
Conditions to heal go ignored.
And decay advanced is not abhorred,
But induced by the use of further excuses.
And condoning a decaying,
Constantly replayed to deny subsides.
And can no longer hide realities observed!
Although blemishes seen are not fantasized...
But inflicted as dessert being served.
And described as 'problems' to be addressed.
As the burning of one's nest clouds desires,
To progress beyond what is shown...
But lacks acknowledgement!
There is no empathy.
Not when greed is the priority to feed.
And repeated disgust is welcomed to numb!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Too Well Known
So many now are attempting to defend themselves,
Out of situations they have created.
So many are in denial their activities,
Have placed them in jeopardy.
And today they seek others to see them differently.
They wished erased what they can not face.
With a replacement of something that is not so ugly.
But it is much too late for an empathy to them to be shown!
Their 'realities' inflicted upon others...
Has been too well known!
And I could care less,
About their refreshed and awakened points of view.
There has been too many yesterdays,
That much agony they have put me through.
And you too!
And based upon that alone...
They will find I am not the forgiving kind!
You can decide for yourself,
What it is you should do.
And please do not allow what I say,
To influence you.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Keeping My Mistakes Replayed
Keeping my mistakes replayed,
Is just too much.
With a play decaying,
Out of touch!
And...
Erases what we gave to save.
Keeping my mistakes replayed,
Is just too much.
With increasing hating...
Rough enough,
To...
Knock me out on my behind.
Not taking a chill pill that could heal,
Erases what we gave to save.
To let the spilling of milk just build,
Erases what we gave to save.
And a pouting grouched over mole hills,
Erases what we gave to save...
That kept manifesting raged days,
And made me run away.
Yes.
Made me run away.
Keeping my mistakes replayed,
Is just too much.
With a play decaying,
Out of touch!
And...
Erases what we gave to save.
Keeping my mistakes replayed,
Is just too much.
With increasing hating...
Rough enough,
To...
Knock me out on my behind.
And that time is not mine to find.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Facts Have Been Subtracted
Regardless of those statements you've made,
To anyone who has given you time to listen.
I was the one who accepted your blemishes and flaws.
I had been the one,
Giving you time to disrespect mine.
And I was the one...
To turn my back on another one of your excuses.
And I am sure any empathy you have manged to gather,
Facts have been subtracted...
From your version and depiction of truth.
And of this I am certain from witnessing your past.
Since your routine suffers from a much needed update.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Intentional
No matter what may be done or said,
When that action in time takes place...
Someone will feel left out instead.
Not because of the action,
Done or said.
But how it was related when instigated.
Whoever made it fun for one,
To berate another with a blurting tongue...
The day will come,
When a similar deed is repeated.
With a singing of a song sung,
Or a tune heard hummed.
With no exit to ignore it to escape or leave,
The perpetrator remembered...
Will then be seeking empathy.
That no one with heart and soul intact,
Will care to release to relieve.
To set one free from memories.
This Earth is not flat,
It looks as if round.
And rotates on an axis,
To return to a place of origin always found.
And that is a fact when one sits to think,
Of those thoughts trapped to sit cemented...
In intentional inequities inflicted to sting and meant!
Inflicted to sting and meant!
What goes around...
Inflicted to sting and meant!
Comes around...
Inflicted to sting and meant!
What goes around...
Inflicted to sting and meant!
Comes around...
Inflicted to sting and meant!
It is all quite intentional.
'Never accuse me again,
Of not having substance! '
Inflicted to sting and meant!
'Never...
Inflicted to sting and meant!
Accuse...
Inflicted to sting and meant!
Me...
Inflicted to sting and meant!
Again! '
Inflicted to sting and meant!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Flip That Coin That Had Been Dished
It is all quite obvious.
No one should concern themselves
With being labelled unpatriotic.
Or anti-establishment...
With nonconformist inclinations.
Or be told with the boldest of self-centered greed...
'If you don't like it 'here',
Go back from where you came from! '
A statement frequently used by those who abused,
The rights of others blatantly!
And of course they had already been 'there'...
Stripping the land of its resources.
And turning those on their own homelands,
Into their own personal slaves!
And living grand.
As they watch them suffer...
From an assortment of dire conditions.
Even today,
This is documented!
With a pretense,
Of how they wish to have them saved.
To teach their children the act of charity!
As they masquerade their demented ways.
I think it's quite clear...
Those that have been thrown out of their own homes,
By their own greed and treachery.
Wish today,
When they prayed...
They had wished they had done so,
To mend their own selfish wisckedness.
That now betrays,
Their superior wishes
To see themselves worshipped...
As rulers over others.
Instead of victims of their own ignorance!
But then again...
Some lessons aren't learned,
As much as they are repeated.
To feel the heat of burning.
Over and over again.
Most of them enjoy implementing self defeat.
As if they miss...
The hell they receive.
Now being self inflicted,
By desires to feed...
A gluttonous unlimited greed!
Bleeding from their beliefs,
To bring themselves everlasting sorrow.
With a truth abandoned.
But emphatically...
A process,
To become traumatically confronted.
'Why do you insist upon being so racist? '
I beg your pardon!
I am not a racist at all.
These are merely observations,
From one who had been oppressed...
By another's restrictive, inclusive happiness!
You can call it an unsweetened delivery of thought.
If you wish...
To flip that coin that had been dished.
Rusting or not!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Give Me Not Which Does Not Feed
Give me not which does not feed,
Not now!
Or stop the quenching of my thirst,
To have my needs I wish met first.
I've sought avenues,
Where I have fought to pay dues.
And they've been paid,
'As' I continue to pave my way...
Through ever changing obstacles,
That have attempted to keep me...
Distant from connecting with the realities,
Of my desires that would please!
And erased from teasing,
Those sacrifices I have made.
Indeed!
I have worked my tasks,
To satisfy that grasp!
And so sweet it would be,
To see my dreams come true!
For me.
To undo delusion and fantasy!
Give me not which does not feed,
Not now!
Nor allow a nibbling needlessly,
With nonsense that has been known...
To bleed my emotions shown!
Growing once...
To throw away more than twice,
A nitpicking on my nerves nonstop!
Coming as I doubted...
Although greeted uninvited sorrows!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What Game Show Is This?
Why should I wish to be updated,
To a defective way you approach...
And look at life?
Why should I be constantly reminded,
Those choices you made...
No longer feed your appetite?
Getting your misdeeds out of my sight,
Is nearly impossible these days.
You blocked your own path...
With thoughtlessness.
And for this...
You expect me to delay,
My desire to go my own way?
And for your mistakes...
I should pay?
What game show is this?
And why are you soliciting me to play?
Why should I wish to be updated,
To a defective way you approach...
And look at life?
Why should I be constantly reminded,
Those choices you made...
No longer feed your appetite?
You wish to have your realities filmed!
I am not seeking that kind of attention.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Into The Wilderness
Always there will be those,
Going out of their way as if chosen...
To inflict their wicked misdeeds upon others.
Only to arrive with feelings they discover,
Has left them to grieve wishing forgiveness.
Knowing...
Time has not come to heal their wounds.
And those who have been picked to be inflicted,
With wounds...know this.
Even attempts made trying to hide them,
Still sit not to be forgotten.
And the repeated visits with bitterness,
Sometimes may take them on long drives...
To 'trip' into the wilderness just to cry...alone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Without A Fear Of Being Smeared
What neccessitates,
An urgent and immediate response...
With a preventing of decay,
Has joined the marketing of peace.
As something declared as a priority.
Like education and jobs!
And the outsourcing done of both...
To feed those teased by greed.
But...
As a lucrative commodity?
Nothing beats an updating of a repeated fad.
Kept fashionable until something else comes along.
Or someone who has the backing to make an attempt,
To awaken people from their nonsense.
Without a fear of being publicly smeared,
By those who have embedded delusions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In Opposition and Obstinate
In opposition and obstinate,
Are those who refuse reform...
To upset any progress of success.
They would rather let...
Their own mothers bleed to death,
Than to take one step forward...
Out of their present state,
Of an obvious darkness.
And why are those in opposition,
With an obstinate condition?
It is a control factor...
They see slipping away,
From greased palms dripping greed.
An economy no longer strong,
Or able to feed a known feast of gluttony...
Is gone.
And an acknowledgement of a desperate reform,
Has most wishing they can prolong,
The signs and affects of an approaching storm!
With the disregarding,
Of the lightening and rumbling thunder!
Unyielding they are...
Like a spoiled child fixed,
To a tantrum encouraged...
To leave those accustomed to it when it comes.
In beliefs what is done will go away if ignored.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Brewing Scent Of Freshly Made Coffee
It is no longer a matter of them telling the truth.
No...It isn't!
And it should be a concern for those who know it,
As it exists in their gut and as it has to them meant,
From observation, felt and experienced as presented...
That those who use other than truth to tell,
Actually are not convinced others are aware they lie.
Since alibis and excuses behind which they hide,
Has been something done to do all of their lives.
And their delusions have become their defense mechanisms.
But today,
Those embellishments exaggerated are easily chased away.
And facing consequences as a result of their defenses,
Has created their dilemmas and conflicts with their entitlements.
Some people will create right in the face of others,
There own versions of what is going on.
With eyes are pure as those seen coming from children.
And this isn't given as an option to express,
Their difference of opinion to address.
This comes from refusing to accept the absence of alternatives.
And what has taken place is immediately from them mentally erased.
Leaving feelings of abandonment,
By those who have been fantasized all their lives.
That is why they protest with a nonacceptance of a reality that is!
Although those realities as they are have never before to them been felt.
And no one seems to acknowledge,
The brewing scent of freshly made coffee...
There!
And everywhere in the air for all to get a deep whiff of it.
'That 'smell'?
What is it? '
~I have not a clue.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Will Not Allow Pests to Piss
Say what you will,
Among others of your ilk.
Others who 'bah' together like sheep,
In uniformed disagreement.
Together with increased ignorance received.
With similar skills to squeal in protective weakness.
However...
If you and I have not made eye contact,
And neither of us have made that a fact known!
But you and 'your kind'
Have made your active backstabbing shown,
Do not 'assume' your sleazy activities,
Go unnoticed.
And by me unaddressed.
I enjoy the fleecing of sheep!
On my terms.
Since I've grown to identify defects,
Hampering the progress of my footsteps!
And I will not allow pests to piss on me secretly!
My way of acknowledgement,
is to seek with a preciseness that is not overblown.
I'm one who loves to stage outrageous raids.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Commendable
If only you,
Were the only one...
Who actively participated,
In the ruining of lives knowingly...
With such a fluid acknowledgement.
But you were not.
Although you admit,
Having some influence over it.
That you have come forward,
To apologize...
With empathy expressed.
And sympathy addressed in your eyes...
Is quite commendable.
However...
Will your confession,
Restore lost lives?
And lifestyles erased by those who survived?
Until what most believe is an impossibility,
But you can do effectively...
To be witnessed by everyone in disbelief.
You can consider your apology...
As suspicious as a rumor that honey is now made,
Synthetically.
And that is being produced with your guarantee,
By someone who discovered...
The secrets left,
By disappearing and missing bees!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When That Door Closes
Were you upset,
By those who took you and your efforts for granted...
In the past?
'Yes.
And I have taken measures,
To ensure that 'never' happens again.'
'Never' is a strong and sometimes changing word.
Perhaps you mean you 'hope' this to you,
Will not happen again.
'I've identified my attachment to those who 'try'.
And those who 'try' are proned to make excuses,
Induced by alibis!
Well...
I no longer empathize with procrastinators,
Who abuse my empathy.
And do what they wish to do later.
As if it's okay to do that to me!
I recognized who they are.
And that's all it takes...
For me not to experience another heartache.'
You speak of this as if it is the ending of a relationship.
'It is!
When the passion leaves...
Why wish for it to return and be repeated?
When it is clear it has gone,
And there is no coming back?
Never can those feelings be restored as they were.
Like an exit through an opened door,
When one closes it little emotion is attached.
With a forward movement that takes place.
Not to close it to knock on it again!
What sense does that make? '
You might have left something inside?
'You mean like a pride one denies?
Not here.
When that door closes...
It is as if it had not existed.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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All That There Is Now In Existence
The importance placed upon appearances,
Only affects the mindset of those...
To effect with less progress made,
In the taking of steps to adventure.
And...
Looking forward to remain limited in experience,
Is a choice one chooses to refrain from getting involved...
From that which is guaranteed to fade away.
Without admitting to the waste of a gift given.
And to awaken much too late to appreciate,
All that there is now in existence to explore...
Without the need to validate or seek in agreement,
A judgement with others that has been passed.
Leaving those to do this...
Free to continue to misunderstand,
How precious a treasure is until it is gone...
From one's grasp.
As 'what ifs' are whispered to never whisper again.
With a silencing that becomes apparent.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sleeping With The Numb
Waking only to feel nothing.
Just let me be.
Let me sleep so numb.
Pain is nonexistent in all extremities.
Time tics by and by.
and still nothing has changed.
still the same. who cares about that
guy who use live with the inflicted pain by
you over again and again.
hes just a stain and now its time to clean up.
waking to only feel nothing.
let me be. let me sleep so numb.
remember nothing. a nonexistent past.
house that burnt down and with it
all my memories accept for me being constantly numb.
A drug induce state should be one most kids celebrate.
but not this one. it was so fake.
Waking only to feel nothing.
let me be.
let me sleep so numb.
skin melts and still nothing,
i bleed and still nothing,
hit in the head and still nothing,
salt in the eyes and still absolutely nothing.
where are all the feelings
I'm so suppose to be feeling.
waking up only to feel nothing.
let me be.
let me sleep so oh so numb
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Whatever It May Be that Affects
What,
Ever it may be that affects...
You have it in yourself,
To disconnect it.
Whatever it may be that affects,
You have it in yourself...
To disconnect it.
Whatever it may be that affects.
Whatever it may be that affects.
A loneliness you wish to rid!
Whatever it may be that affects.
Emotions breeding to feed on fears!
Whatever it may be that affects.
Whatever it may be that affects.
Heartbreak that can not escape the aching.
Let it go!
Don't let it upset.
You gave to it now from you erase it!
Whatever it may be that affects,
You have it in yourself...
To disconnect it.
Whatever it may be that affects.
Whatever it may be that affects.
Let it go!
Don't let it upset.
Whatever it may be that affects.
Let it go!
Don't let it upset.
Whatever it may be that affects.
Let it go!
Don't let it upset.
Whatever it may be that affects.
Whatever it may be that affects.
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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Nature
Weather constantly changes.
No character, only dynamic.
Dull and dreary,
Or bitter and cold,
Or bright and shiny.
This is mother nature.
She is of this world.
She dictates the mood.
She affects mine.
Emotions, constantly changing.
Personality has dynamic,
But lacks character.
It is constantly changing.
Bitter and resentful,
Frustrated and annoyed
Happy & joyous.
This is human nature.
It is of this world.
It dictates our mood.
It affects another.
Mother nature cannot be controlled.
For she is not ours.
Yet mother nature controls me,
Though I am not hers.
Together, we must exist.
We must accept each as we both are.
Though one affects the other.
Based on emotion, not character.
During the storm,
The sky is still the sky,
The ground, is still the ground
The sun is still the sun.
This is the character of mother nature.
The snow may cover the ground,
But the ground remains.
The clouds may cover the sun,
But the sun remains.
Character is always constant.
Nature affects character.
Character is patience, kindness,
Compassion, empathy, forgiving.
Plain and simple,
Our character is love.
Human nature covers human character,
Although it might not be seen,
It still remains.
It is simply covered.
For the mother is of this earth,
The father is of the next.
Emotion defies logic, as logic can defy emotion.
Follow logic?
Or follow emotion?
One cannot follow both.
This is Father God.
Character is not of this world.
It asks us to do right.
Affecting all around us.
It is the silver lining that reminds us.
The sun never disappeared.
It was just covered by nature's emotion.
Even behind the clouds,
It still shines bright.
As does my love.
For which I will live,
Will determine my legacy.
I am the sun.
I am warm.
I am a son.
I am love.
I have a Father and a Mother.
I love them both,
But which defines my creation?
Which one is my first?
Which is my last?
Which is my everything?
First was,
Last is,
And everything always will be.
Like a scale,
One pan determines the position of the other.
The centre, will never change.
It determines the balance.
Human nature on the pans.
Character in the center.
In which do I put my faith?
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Conditioned to Feed
Isn't it easy to defame and shame another?
And in public profess to an innocence addressed.
Many are conditioned to feed on deception.
To protect themselves and insecurities.
While finger pointing and finding fault.
But not admitting to their own frustrations...
And/or to their own evil misdeeds.
People like this seek pity and empathy.
As they disable emotions of those too blind to see...
They are demons in sheep clothing...
Pretending to be in sympathetic need!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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