Cries That Led Them Into Protective Battle
A mass induced prepared to crush.
An explosive promise to bum rush,
And hush.
Delays what was portrayed...
As aggressive bleeding to inflict,
With a quickness that would not dismay
A cause for rebels to cheer.
But a leaking of greatness,
Unrelentlessly squeezes.
Increasing debates,
To end destruction of applied hate.
Discriminating voices...
Find their choices,
Diminishing to choose between abusing tactics.
And cryptic delusions of values upheld.
The cost of this,
Has eroded myths!
Foundations once solid and sitting bold...
Now on the threshold of being sold,
To those on foreign lands controlling resources.
Maintaining the gold and observing the unfolding.
As quick as a light switch,
Constantly on...
Now off to find many blind!
And those preparing the script for conflict,
Could care less.
They are not obsessed with biases.
Or racist deeds they manifest!
Pockets they fill with greed to gain.
One aim only is their game...
To leave the masses in pain!
No shame seeps from these evil demons.
Too true they know...
Those who have not,
Will fight themselves over the remains!
Even if realities kept,
And slowly peeled from foreclosed doorsteps...
Becomes nonexistent.
And with cries that led them into protective battle,
Sweeps them into a chaotic madness!
To struggle over dust,
On turf that has rusted!
And no one can claim they own.
As instigators have initiated deceit...
Feast together,
Where they have flown!
Yet unknown to them...
Descends from skies to hide from them Sun,
Are The Masters of true rule.
From the heavens who come to shock the awed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Fantasy Fits
Encircled riches...
Possessed in protective clutches.
Prizes awarded to raise influence,
And materialize a gain.
Without common sense attached...
Since this is not a matching game.
A perception of greed,
Feeds this haunting curse increasing.
Freedoms decrease...
From this abusing crush!
They can not see themselves,
Licking fingers...
With thick drippings of incompetnce.
Backed up against walls,
Fenced and closing in!
Stalled...
By leeching façades.
Odd they are,
To self inflict wounds and scars unbothered.
Choosing to ignore the power of God...
In rituals sobbed to keep misspent resources.
Selecting rejections and who remains endorsed!
Messages Mother Nature sends relentlessly,
Leaves not a dent...
On these minds in scenes routinely gluttony bent!
Exploiting shores that are way off course.
And kept distracted,
Are those entrenched in entertainment whims.
Fretting to maintain good credit standings sustained,
With stains of a stenching detriment!
Drained to locate borrowers who will lend.
While foreclosures come to hint...
A dwindling comes to crooked pockets to leave just lint!
'Spending limits come to those plugged into fantasy fits.'
Resistance drifts,
On playgrounds erected on soundless gambling risks.
Coming to drown those in profound debt!
Shifting from those with...
To those with nothing left to lose,
Or could care less about any of this!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Of a Useless Need For Assumptions Done
Presumptions have reached the junction,
Of a useless need for assumptions done.
It will be clarified as to which way...
Today is heading towards.
All mysteries will become nonexistent.
And those deluded with beliefs...
Fantasized by the applied means of deceit,
Will soon see for themselves...
An agreed upon reality reached.
And...
No one will dispute!
A delivery of an effectiveness,
That shall not be debated...
For purposes to refute.
Since what comes will not elude them!
Or anyone on planet Earth to refuse...
To leave with choices to accept or reject!
Or feel the neglect of being excluded.
The real deal descends upon us all!
With eyes and ears opened.
Mouths shut!
And breaths that are deeply taken.
Truth as it is...
Without hint of manipulation.
Or beliefs some have chosen,
On others to inflict!
This will not be lifted,
From varied religious affliations.
Truth as it is...
Has arrived to be revealed.
And coming to a mindset near you!
To shock and awe...
With lessons,
Of mass introduction!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Disquieting Silence
Every argument raised and disclosed,
Has resulted in an environment exposing misdeeds.
Fragmented by incompetent self indulgence.
And contradictions upheld with blatant hypocrisies.
Overwhelmed by indecent and decadent depths!
For many decades swept,
Under a rug to keep philanthropic acts of deceit,
Neatly kept!
Although known and shared behind false smiles bared.
And revealing a pain no longer hidden by restraints.
That can be maintained to masquerade treason.
Or complaints of depleted resources hoarded.
The reason their barks are now loudly heard,
To confuse those upset.
Believing their best interests are being threatened.
By a charading chase for terrorists,
On foreign lands nesting!
As they who fight these aggressions...
Try to free themselves of pests!
Those of greed have succeeded.
And yet the mess harvested,
Is not of their doing!
This with innocence they profess.
As they squirm from their own applied screwings.
Scattering investments from bolstered crests!
But no one of clear consciousness,
Can accept the doings of the deeds done.
Watchdogs selected to protect their treasures...
Scholarly dressed have been the best of scum!
And the bleeding that comes,
Affects everyone...
Into a disquieting 'silence' that stuns!
And shocked they can not hock,
Their worthless pretensions...
As darkness descends upon their whims to rule,
And conquer!
As easily as rewritten history shielded in the past!
These are not the days for those transgressions...
To praise themselves in victory,
At the expense of those victimized!
And televised rescue opportunities to prove,
They are and have been always...
Scrutinized for their goodwill!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sold
The ground and foundations.
Temptations solicted from staid traditions.
Beliefs...
And those who held them.
Sold for profit.
And nothing had stopped it!
Values and standards.
Smokescreening hoodwinkers...
And bribes from crooks,
Who stole like bandits.
Liars who used deceit to hide.
Sold...
Like pieces of meat!
Diced and spliced...
In divisions before eaten.
Beholding their boldness.
And unfolding a way of life cheapened.
But...
Never would they conceive,
All of their degradations...
And treasures,
Spoken and told...
Would be sold!
To the first who offered a bid!
For a desperate situation...
Seeking a quick way to sell a mess,
To rid!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Something Transcends
Many aren't prepared to leave,
Realities consistent with myths.
Foundations explored and introduced...
With solid knowledge and built on proof,
Now find those who once believed...
Perplexed by revealing hidden truths,
Received as they torment in grief!
Wars and conflicts that exist,
Have ancient cultures quite betwixted...
Between concepts created,
And finding these origins inflated...
Subjected to debate,
Without solutions to produce
A certain and accountable unquestioned fate!
Something transcends,
From the Universe that descends.
To scatter some in masses,
Into shelters to hide.
While those in patient faith await...
Stand to observe this magnificence,
In a joy that makes them convinced and elated.
Whatever 'this' is that comes just could not be!
Has eyes wide enough to pop...
Jaws dropping in a wordless stop!
An 'intelligence' greater than anyone could conceive,
Announces to us all in a shocking discovery,
They've come from a place they describe as 'Eternity'!
Leaving those in religious divisions,
Together astounded fixed...
To stare in a total collective freeze,
That nips their self righteous fits!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bleeding In A Pool Of Shame
Some people are prone to condon,
Their distasteful behavior.
To make any claim whatsoever,
With a justifying of their misdeeds.
And this they do,
With a censoring done to others.
With attitudes they will excuse.
As a standard of values,
They monitor to ensure...
Others they choose to suppress,
Keep endeared and respected.
Some people are prone to condon,
Their distasteful behavior.
To make any claim whatsoever,
With a justifying of their misdeeds.
Only to witness their own credibility,
Bleeding in a pool of shame.
No matter what it is that the cruel people do,
They'll be bleeding in a pool of shame.
And no matter what the evilness people may choose,
They'll be bleeding in a pool of shame.
No matter what deceitful people choose what they do.
They'll be bleeding in a pool of shame.
No matter what those evil people choose for you,
They'll be bleeding in a pool of shame.
No matter what it is that the cruel people do,
They'll be bleeding in a pool of shame.
And no matter what the evilness people may choose,
They'll be bleeding in a pool of shame.
No matter what deceitful people choose what they do.
They'll be bleeding in a pool of shame.
No matter what those evil people choose for you,
They'll be bleeding in a pool of shame.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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That Kind of Deceit and Treason
No one on Earth
Can be that blatantly ignorant.
No one would set up a scheme,
To destroy their inner being.
And to launch a campaign,
To claim it was initiated by someone else.
Just to have the masses begin to fear themselves.
No one can be that evil.
To plan that kind of deceit and treason,
For reasons to declare a victory.
So few could profit and share this deed.
One that shatters peace.
One that is declared to pay a debt.
Owed to those living with growing economies.
Overseas.
And outsourcing jobs to support...
More dollars to themselves to feed!
Is that why this was done?
To create terrorists...
And them call them our enemies!
That is hard to believe.
No one can be 'that' low!
Lower than a snake...
Under rocks that breeds!
No one on Earth
Can be that blatantly ignorant.
No one would set up a scheme,
To destroy their inner being!
And to launch a campaign,
To claim it was initiated by someone else.
No one can be that evil.
To plan that kind of deceit and treason,
For reasons to declare victory.
To line the pockets of those in need,
To feed a gluttonous heartless greed.
No one is that demonic.
And if so...
Who would that be?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Son That Grew From Lust.
I’m the son the grew from lust, my heart beat dust like a rust nail. I cursed the day I rush out the wound. To be consumed by hate. I’m doom to wait my salvation at state.
I’m the Son that grew from lust, I’m touch by hush. I try to push the tears out like rain clouds.
Lust, it’s such a crush to my soul; I don’t rush to the grave. Time is plush a mince to us. But, I don’t fight to get rid of this hurt that sink my heart, and leave me ajar.
Son, they say, “like father, like son”, but what makes a father leaves his son.
To battle with guns on the street, to battle with life that cheat, and to battle with hate that eat us.
poem by Junius Barnes
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Hoax
As they stumble over the crumbling of their foundations...
They still insist they must persist,
To inflict their standards and values.
But a hoax has provoked most folks.
And the joke invoked has them now in tears.
The gloom and doomers have appeared.
They wish to soften the effects of their demise.
Quick they try to cover all told lies.
To hide their deceptions with an injection of relief.
And a promise to restore a greatness,
Anyone of a consciousness can see...
Has been a game for thieves to play,
At their expense and ignorance.
Those precocious folks learn to hoax,
Early.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Divisions They Have Created
Observing those taking offense,
Against policies and initiatives they implemented...
Is like listening to someone complain,
About the price of cigarettes and gasoline...
While waiting in line to purchase them at any cost.
People have grown accustomed to debating themselves.
As if those overhearing them,
Become attracted to the redundance of the limited topics.
Divisions they have created,
Have outdated realities.
They refer to the 'others' as those on the 'left'.
And yet,
They are 'right'...
With their insignificant infighting complimented with backbites.
Their own divisions they have created,
Escalated devastation.
Clearly they are a people of greed,
Wanting more of it for themselves to feed.
With an outsourcing of jobs...
For cheaper labor to pay as their economy slipped away.
They were the ones to oversee this travesty,
As a means to quietly lift themselves...
To the land of abundant gluttony.
Divisions they have created,
Deletes the fact of their discreeted deceit.
As their own hands dipped
While a diminishing of beliefs of those values and standards,
Were going unpoliced!
They speak of a greatness only reviewed on sporting fields.
They speak of a greatness on streets of decadence no one feels.
To lead is to know how to follow.
To greed is to know how to follow those like this who lead.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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POW/MIA Remembrance Day
POW/MIA Remembrance Day
(Third Friday of September)
Thousands are still missing
From those Wars of the past
Slowly, some are coming home
To grieving Families, at last.
Some found in unmarked graves
On foreign lands across the sea
With the science of DNA
To reveal, their true identity.
JPAC was formed to find them
Around fourteen hundred, to date
And for loved ones seeking closure
It surely, never is, too late.
They think, forty thousand left
They might be able to recover
As they follow leads and tips
From, one country to another.
Some remains, may be lost forever
Like those Heroes, resting in the Deep
But, to bring those others home
Is a solemn promise, we must keep.
It’s a very noble thing they do
As, they go, and search, and find
Those, who died for our Country
For, we must, leave no one behind.
Every year we have a special day
To, remember those still lost
To, renew that promise to them
No matter what, it may cost.
Del “Abe” Jones
09.18.2008
Can you look beyond the shallow
Can you look beyond the shallow?
To find a deeper meaning which is true.
Can you look beyond the shadows?
To find a philosophy for you
Can you find hope in times of madness?
to bring you through your despair
can you find strength and guidance
in the books over there
can you find faith
in actions good works and deeds done
can you find solace when the game is lost and not won
can keep both eyes open
when others with prejudice are opposed
can you find meaning where there seems to be none or it is supposed
, then my friend you’ll never lose and the battle will be half won.
For how we perceive and what we believe
Makes us whole
a heart that looks beyond the shallow
will find what it looks for it will find its goal.
poem by Daniel Hooks
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When The Heavens Shed Tears
the final war to purge and purify this sacred world - vilified.
one culture interred with righteousness, weaved from deception.
down on bent knees we cry for salvation.
upon death we feast with blood soaked deceit
destruction creeps but demons don't speak.
for the truth makes hearts bleed with sorrow
so angels watch the funeral march
and wait for a desined tomorrow
preyed upon by the pestilence of avarice and ignorance.
from the cradle to the grave we forfeit.
freedom to the ranks of slaves
demons dance to a black symphony
as the war comes quick to a close
and angels on high look down
in disgust to a dead earth that circles below
when the heavens shed tears
a sordid dusk rapes their sun-sorched machinery of disease.
this brutal path we tread etched by tears of the damned.
the art of salvation crafted by hands that would kill... that would kill
a wasteland,
a ruin is all that remains as this iron-age dissolves life to commodity,
our souls committed to atrocity,
no sort of prayer can save us now but...
still we will fight down from the heavens into the arms of my mother earth.
to burn the cradle of civilization - returned to dust,
still we will fight down from the heavens
song performed by by Undying
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Deep Within The Bowels Of Foreign Wombs We Search
Deep within the bowels of foreign wombs we search,
For something.
Anything...
That reveals a familiarity.
An acceptance discovered,
To claim and not reject...
If its presence upsets.
Beginning thoughts that initiate conflict.
With a probing that dissects.
To then attack if not reflecting...
What we are limited to perceive.
And yet...
Deep within the bowels of foreign wombs we search,
For that which expresses on it's own turf...
What it is as it exists with intentions to leave undamaged.
And if it can not be labelled...
We declare war against it.
Until we find it can be recognized to benefit our interests.
At an expense that creates havoc and dismay.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Keeper Of The Seven Keys
(m&l - weikath)
Make the people
Hold each others hands
And fill their hearts with truth
You made up your mind
So do as divined
Put on your armour
Ragged after fights
Hold up your sword
Youre leaving the light
Make yourself ready
For the lords of the dark
Theyll watch your way
So be cautious, quiet and hark
You hear them whispering
In the crowns of the trees
Youre whirling round
But your eyes don t agree
Will o the wisps
Misguiding your path
You can t throw a curse
Without takin their wrath
Watch out for the seas of hatred and sin
Or all us people forget what weve been
Our only hopes your victory
Kill that satan who wont let us be - kill!
You re the keeper of the seven keys
That lock up the seven seas
And the seer of visions said before he went blind
Hide them from demons and rescue mankind
Or the world were all in wili soon be sold
To the throne of the evil payed with lucifers gold
You can feel cold sweat
Running down your neck
And the dwarfs of falseness
Throw mud at your back
Guided by spells
Of the old seers hand
Youre suffering pain
Only steel can stand
Stay well on your way and follow the sign
Fulfill your own promise and do whats divined
The seven seas are far away
Placed in the valley of dust heat and sway
Youre the keeper of the seven keys
That lock up the seven seas
And the seer of visions said before he went blind
Hide them from demons and rescue mankind
Or the world were all in wili soon be sold
To the throne of the evil payed with lucifers gold
Throw the first key into the sea of hate
Throw the second key into the sea of fear
Throw the third key into the sea of senselessness
And make the people hold each others hands
The fourth key belongs into the sea of greed
And the fifth into the sea of ignorance
Disease, disease, disease my friend
For this whole worlds in devils hand
Disease, disease, disease my friend
Throw the key or you may die
On a mound at the shore of the last sea
He is sitting, fixing your sight
With his high iron voice causing sickness
He is piaying you out with delight
Man who do you just think you are?
A silly bum with seven stars
Dont throw the key or you will see
Dimensions cruel as they can be
Dont let him...your power
Throw the key...!
An earthquake, squirting fire, bursting ground
Satans screaming, and earth swallowing him away!
Youre the keeper of the seven keys
You locked up the seven seas
And the seer of visions can now rest in peace
There aint no more demons and no more disease
And mankind, live up, youre freee again
Yes the tyran is dead, he is gone, overthrown
You have given our souls back to light
song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I shall come
I shall come again
To suffer the agony and pain
To finish the unfinished task
Take everybody on heels and ask
I am shot in head
Slowly loosing conscience and unable to lead
Yet comrades are taking me away
To save nd ask secrets on the way
I have waged relentless struggle
Against oppression to ward of trouble
For poor people and unprivileged class
In another word a struggle for entire mass
I may loose life in jungle
The fight must be on and no stoppage of struggle
It is holy and sacred
It must be on and led
Born, live and depart in time
Cycle goes on and repeated sometimes
Everything is reused and taken into use
God has made us interdependent to choose
To keep people under yoke is crime
We are now in new age and must act with time
Colonial rule is over yet mentality remains same
Who shall come forward and legitimately claim?
I may be gone forever with no memory left behind
Yet some traces may be later likely to find
That may be day of people to rejoice
Chant the national song with one voice
I would love to take rebirth and come back
To see the people and for their love sake
I shall prefer to die thousand deaths for their cause
The birth is just an opportunity and not at al any loss
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Center of Golden Trinkets
The greatness of this land...
Goes uncelebrated on foreign soil,
Where oil is abundant and sold to enrich...
The lives of those upon land God has chosen,
For 'them' to nourish and enrich themselves!
'May the eyes of the wise open! '
No one can fake an ownership that does not exist.
The consciousness of the Earth will not permit it!
A divineness given has made some minds sick...
With a wicked self centeredness that is going to be punished.
'May the eyes of the wise open! '
Integrity kept was not swept away by the feeding of greed.
It stay and wanted to share resources.
Forces proceeded to addict a mindset to things.
Increasing the need to fill empty spaces with waste.
And the luxury of bad taste.
With the acceptance of disrespect.
As well as a lack of discipline...
And that which is connected.
'May the eyes of the wise open! '
Dishonesty became the treason of pride.
Not too many hid that they lied to get what they wished...
And did.
What.
They.
Wanted to do!
Dishonesty became the treason of pride.
Not too many hid that they lied to get what they wished...
And did.
What.
They.
Wanted to do!
Integrity kept was not swept away by the feeding of greed.
In fact...
Any who had any of that left,
Wept!
And helplessly stood by to watch their country bleed.
Dishonesty became the treason of pride.
Not too many hid that they lied to get what they wished...
And did.
What.
They.
Wanted to do!
'May the eyes of the wise open! '
The greatness of this land...
Goes uncelebrated on foreign soil,
Where oil is abundant and sold to enrich...
The lives of those upon land God has chosen,
For 'them' to nourish and enrich themselves!
But others too impatient to wait for God's command...
Believed they only had to steal to find themselves the chosen.
To find themselves the center of golden trinkets to adorn,
And distract!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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God As Opium Of The People
one of the greatest misunderstood
quotations in all of human history
derived from an attempt
to examine religion from
a purely objective focus a
new scientific perspective
so what is the new yardstick?
this new analysis and critique
class religion; quoted by theist
and atheist to impress masses
The true origin of famous quotation
religion is the “opium of the masses”
is as we shall see; far more complex;
than generally commonly portrayed! ! !
Marx defined religion by only
two primary criteria; divisible
as materialism related analysis;
an expression as either material
realities or as economic injustice
Marx claims problems in religion
are ultimately problems in society;
a medically examined; probing test
reference would be; ‘religion is not
the disease, but merely a symptom’
Marx’s criticism of religion; was
it is exploited; by the oppressors
to make the people pliable accept
distressing; experiences; endured;
due to poverty; social exploitation! ! !
funny how when men achieve great deeds;
they claim all credit; while resultant action
consequences of all errors; of induced greed;
is all political propaganda blamed on Creator
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Feeding of Their Greed Has Ceased
Who are they that sit,
With pouting lips...
And balled fists?
'Those who refused to see life as it is.
Those who viewed the truth,
As something that is negative! '
But why are they angered by the revelation of it?
'They see themselves as positive,
And resist to believe...
Their realities have been deceived.
And those who spoke of these times that are here...
They have chosen to resist them too,
In the hopes that showing force...
Will show what is known and true,
Takes another course.
And turn their gray skies blue.'
And all this time they wasted,
Celebrating decadence?
They had no trouble accepting that!
'Yeah...
But they can't afford that anymore.
They have been laid off from jobs.
And their doors have been padlocked.
With many of their homes foreclosed.
In other words...
Their values have been diminished?
Egos have been crushed and publicly finished.'
But I thought they represented high standards?
With christian outlooks moralized in religious beliefs.
'Please...
Only if they can pay to have their smut and gutter ways,
Smothered
By the price they paid to keep them hidden.
But those days are gone for them! '
They are bittered by the prospects of revealing their sins.'
Oh.
OH!
Now I understand!
They are angry because the cost of hiding their pretensions,
Are now out of their reach?
'Exactly!
That's what this is all about!
If any of this was about God...
None of there 'displeasures' would have existed,
In the first place! '
The feeding of their greed has ceased!
And preachers who preached to them evil...
Will find fewer of them feeling freed,
Greeted as they leave their Sunday seats.
'Yes...
Exactly!
It's all so hypocritically blasphemous,
Isn't it? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Relevant It Isn't
The cost of living
Getting out of reach.
The English language,
Taught in schools...
Becoming overruled,
As not the only language to be used.
Outsourcing now is an acronym for loss.
While those on foreign shores,
Rule as the new boss.
Relevant it isn't!
Not to those blind to this.
Values once upheld and shared.
Standards of life disrespected and bared.
Crime and corruption now seduces like a treat.
And welcomed like a lost friend,
Eager to meet on urban streets.
Relevant it isn't.
Not to those blind to this.
Trapped in racist sentiments.
Mindlessness connecting this.
A consciousness limited to selfishness!
Self examinations go dismissed.
A finger pointing is quick to lift.
Relevant it isn't.
Not to those blind to this!
Politics dropping lives like flies.
Using alibis to deny a truth that hides.
And whose interests are left in the banks to dry?
Relevant it isn't.
Not to those blind to this!
But to those demystisfied...
Can not cry enough teardrops,
From their swollen eyes!
It's the pitifulness of it,
They wish can be admitted with this weeping!
Dripping like rain...
But gaining little attention,
From those drugged and entertained
By their own self importance.
And 'that' to them,
Is the only relevance that makes sense.
And even that has weakened in priority.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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