Daily Appetizers
The best way to generate an interest,
With a focus fixed on an enemy.
Is to create one.
With bits that are fed in doses that increase.
Division, chaos and promoted conflicts,
Have proven there are those...
Who are skilled with unquestionable expertise,
In fields to undermine the advantages of peace.
And the best are solicited, hired and paid,
To ensure fear and hatred are daily appetizers.
With many becoming more unafraid,
To go beyond their temptations to nibble and taste.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Temptations Teased Ruthlessly
Just because one shows promise.
And enjoys participating,
In playing a highly skilled game.
Does not make one qualified,
By the association.
Being patient eventually reigns.
And an attention given is not solicited.
What makes one undeniably qualified?
Realizing a work ethic is applied.
With devotion and sacrifice...
Prepared to put aside a favorite meal.
And remaining focused showing couth.
Despite temptations teased ruthlessly.
This too can be proven to be ignored.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Saying the unspeakable
Such as President Obama
may not say it; but I
who am nobody, may speak it:
the God of many names and One
does not wish division;
you and I (there are no others?)
do not wish division;
who makes division?
Why do all seek an ‘enemy’?
The dispossessed invent an enemy
on whom to blame their plight;
the rich invent an enemy
to excuse their greed;
those who worship God under one name
make enemy of those who worship God
under another name;
even those who worship God under the same name
make sects in order to invent an enemy;
is it because it is easier
to make an enemy than a friend?
is it easier to fear
than to love?
is it easier to hate
than to love?
is it easier to count to two
than think of three or one?
do we feel more powerful
if we have an enemy?
and now we fire at enemies
invisible beyond the horizon..
are enemies more attractive
to our life than friends?
Tell me, poets, tell me, sages;
tell me, saints; oh tell me God;
tell me, arithmeticians:
when division multiplies
our enemies, why do we
so love division?
The God of many names and One
makes division in Himself
with love and without hate;
you and I (there are no others?)
love each other all the more
in the sameness of our differences;
does human kind
now hate itself so much?
who thinks division, loves division?
makes an enemy of otherness?
forgets that God is One?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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If It Is There To Be Given I Am Here To Receive
Can you give me something more,
Than less than your professed best?
I've been waiting to be impressed...
Since you let it known,
When you 'try'...
You can produce much better.
At least show me the evidence you are trying.
I wouldn't be such a pest.
But you were the one who stated,
I knew nothing about good taste.
Okay...
I'm done with your serving of appetizers.
I am now prepared to nibble on the main event.
If it is there to be given I am here to receive.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Now I Nibble
Where are my feet?
Once placed on solid ground.
Why am I now unsure of my steps?
When my eyes were directed,
To fresh places I found.
Why do I question,
My place in this World?
Where are those faces...
Once full with life,
I knew!
What has happened overnight,
When I once felt safe and secure...
My dreams and wishes,
Would stay fixed and motivated.
Strong with appetite!
Now I nibble...
When once accustomed to huge bites.
Now I nibble without a taste that delights.
Now I nibble just to keep my eyes,
From shutting tight!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Not Paid To Be Consultants
Although it is said,
Those living their lives...
In deprived neighborhoods,
Have no clue...
As to how to correct their own dilemmas.
Others from the outside,
Of their own comfort zones...
Are solicited and hired with good wages paid,
To ask those most affected by obvious negligence...
Who are not paid to be consultants,
As to what is it they believe is most needed.
Many wish to see only their hands,
Picking from the cookie jar.
And others enjoy the idea...
Of scrambling amongst themselves for crumbs.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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B.y.o.b.
When trust has been destroyed...
Who is going to ensure,
Appetizers on a menu...
Suit the taste,
Of guests
Others feel compelled to keep eyes on?
Someone served is going to get a chill first.
And a bill left to be paid,
By the one least prepared to receive unexpected stares.
And an appetite for what has been ordered,
Gone!
Some folks are not into false presentations.
Or the smell of sour cuisine.
Leaving those unaware of what is going on behind the scenes...
Realizing these types of functions,
Are better left 'boo-fayed' and dysfunctional!
With no one to feel they have to 'eat' what they do not like!
Bring what they wish to be dished.
And...
*B.Y.O.B.
'Bring-your -own-bodyguard'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Highlights Of My Life
I'm not the one to criticize,
The value of what is wrong.
Or weigh with unquestionable decisiveness,
That which is chosen is correct and right.
Nor am I the kind to nitpick, fuss or argue to fight.
I am the kind that's going to live with a focus.
And weeding to clear that which comes to dim...
The highlights of my life.
Many wish to see themselves winning not to lose.
While some deceive with tricks to menace,
Someone to abuse.
More than a few are confused,
As to which direction to choose to move in.
I am the kind that's going to live with a focus.
And weeding to clear that which comes to dim...
The highlights of my life.
Today,
Chasing troubles away takes commitment.
Today,
Having good things to say conflicts.
Today,
People are finding playing games and tricks...
Helps them exist in the chosen fields of 'their' battles.
Many wish to see themselves winning not to lose.
While some deceive with tricks to menace,
Someone to abuse.
More than a few are confused,
As to which direction to choose to move in.
I am the kind that's going to live with a focus.
And weeding to clear that which comes to dim...
The highlights of my life.
I did not select a mission to abandon it.
I heard a voice within me familiar.
A voice so strong that called.
I'm not the one to criticize,
The value of what is wrong.
Or weigh with unquestionable decisiveness,
That which is chosen is correct and right.
I follow a voice within me familiar.
And on my path it is with me day and night.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Enforced With A Focus Fixed
Being alone and wishing to be,
With an acknowledgement of it.
I chose to experience removing myself from limits.
And with the doing of this helped me to realize,
I depended on the feeding of my weaknesses.
And when I faced this doing to prove I could do...
With a self examination to improve,
I became enforced with a focus fixed upon it.
I had to divorce from my emotions then too sensitive.
And with a taking I did...
I took the oars to row my floating boat back to shore,
To never again ignore those obstacles.
Being alone and wishing to be,
With an acknowledgement of it.
I chose to experience...
Distance!
And I became enforced with a focus fixed.
Divorced from my emotions then too sensitive,
I became enforced with a focus fixed.
With a focus fixed.
And with a focus fixed...
I divorced from my emotions,
Then too sensitive.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Focus
focus
focus on god
focus on freedom
focus on forgiveness
focus on sweet speech
focus on treasures
focus on humility
focus on commitment
focus on mind
focus on success
focus on health
focus on healthy transformation
focus on goodness
focus on laughter
focus on fun
focus on angel
focus on sweetness
focus on wealth
focus
poem by Johnny Walks
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Bogus Doses
Your rolling overexposed bogus doses aren't deep.
To keep them away from a 'vision'.
Your rolling overexposed bogus doses aren't deep.
To keep them away from a 'vision'.
Don't leave with a notion to soak,
Your bogus doses will get any info from me.
To keep me away from what's been 'visioned'.
Your rolling overexposed bogus doses aren't deep.
Not deep enough to cloud...
A 'vision'.
Your rolling overexposed bogus doses aren't deep,
To keep them away from the 'vision'.
Whatever that you do,
Has been done and 'thunked! '
With a doing of it in most eyes like a basketball dunked.
Swish, swoosh that's it.
And people who have seen this have a 'vision'.
You can't exchange the truth for a dollar.
Or change its appearance to ensure it fits.
Swish, swoosh that's it.
And people who have seen this have a 'vision'.
And people who have seen this have a 'vision'.
Swish, swoosh that's it.
Swish, swoosh that's it.
And people who have seen this have a 'vision'.
Take your bogus doses.
People who have seen this have a 'vision'.
And to witness focused.
Whatever that you do,
Has been done and 'thunked! '
With a doing of it in most eyes like a basketball dunked.
Swish, swoosh that's it.
Swish, swoosh that's it.
And people who have seen this have a 'vision'.
Now take your bogus doses.
Take your bogus doses.
Now take your bogus doses...
Away, away!
Now take your bogus doses.
Take your bogus doses.
Now take your bogus doses...
Away!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If The Intention For Peace Was Reached
The madness that is there,
And some have declared...
Is for them in the sharing of it!
Is there for them to declare,
Ruin upon humanity.
If it is recognized for what it is,
And attempts are made to prevent...
An existence of it,
Is a legitimate undertaking.
Only,
And if...
It is not presented,
As a natural occurrence.
It isn't!
There is nothing natural,
About the spreading of a disease.
Prevention would not be mentioned,
If the intention for peace was reached.
Conflicts, chaos and division....
Have been made neccessities of life,
By those wishing to inflict,
A desperate attachment they have...
To self destruct!
And those validating a destruction,
To maintain a peace...
Worship the wicked ways of demons.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Constant Reporting Done of Threats
The constant reporting done of threats,
To advance fear in a projected animosity believed.
Intentionally keeps the mind tunneled visioned...
In acts to protect,
Effectively one's nest...
Constantly.
And,
Makes a life lived in search of 'peace'...
Great marketing for those,
Who seek a hatred kept to keep.
With weapons made to be sold!
For the ones working up a sweat that upsets.
For the purpose to reflect,
A bravery known to be courageous and bold.
The constant reporting done of threats,
Creates an indulgence...
Of an increasing release of evil,
With a slice of exciting devilment...
One is prodded to expect to get.
By those who are skilled...
In the playing of war games,
As if in a tournament of chess.
With a hunting done of enemies.
And those proclaimed to be terrorists.
Yet...
It is the quality of life,
That suffers from insurmountable limitation...
From behind locked doors.
Yet...
It is the quality of life,
Harvesting strife and devastation!
To ensure division and distrust,
Becomes heightened on all shores!
To produce.
An inducing attraction for honorable death.
Oozing life from every...living...pore...that's yours!
Until the numbing affect becomes accepted.
Until no one living,
Lives...
To reject it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In precisely the same way money is often hired, and the hire paid for the use of it is called Interest.
quote by John Buchanan Robinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And What Comes to Visit
Fresh from the tabloids:
'We All Are the Aliens'
We all are strange and distant people.
Segmented with traditions implanted with restrictions,
And dissected to produce 'reason'.
Set within indifferences!
And mystified upon discovering,
Yet another development of natures' Whipped Mixtures'
Those in isolation...
In fear of their own reflections being threatened,
Are lost!
And have paid the cost to incite conflicts!
But today...
An end comes to their 'sickened appetites'.
A light bright beams.
The enormity of it,
Stops all movement quick!
And what comes to visit...
Will shut lips,
Forever...
About that which was known before it landed.
As 'Truth' descends with unquestionable power!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Add Onto A Collection Of Experiences
The choices made we make,
For our lives to ensure no heartbreaks.
Fixed to a perfectness approved.
To later realize a buyer's remorse,
Wishing for an instant removal from it...
Depends on what is to us received.
Or believed what to us has been sold,
As a purchase to increase...
Those accepted possibilities.
With definitive choices to choose our escapes.
It takes one being awake,
To recognize safety nets are not in place.
It takes one being unafraid,
To face the 'opportunity' to make mistakes.
With a feeling later to discover,
It is okay...
To live a life falling down.
With a getting up from the ground.
Just to add onto a collection of experiences.
And those we keep as priceless treasures.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Upon Recommendation
They elected to become better coons.
And with their masks fixed...
For employment purposes and cocktail mixes.
To prove they were worthy and skilled,
At mastering diversed appointed tasks...
If asked and obeyed.
Sometimes against their high paid wills!
Although a dignity of identity,
Had cheapened,
With temptations that weakened!
They were still comforted in knowing,
Their subservience was awarded well...
And welcomed,
By the liking of their peers!
Who supressed their images too...
Upon recommendation!
And trained to flaunt their 'arrivals'
With the best of etiquette,
To diminish 'hints' of ghetto traces.
Then 'introduced' for acceptable appearances!
After a series of planting well placed kisses!
On butts...
Of course!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Generator
We generate heat
We generate emotion
We generate a feeling
That is better left here
Than a memory on a wall
I'd rather cry than forget you
We generate pain
We generate suspicion
We generate a rumour that's sick
But a rumour that is probably true
I'd rather die than forget you
(i won't let my dreams slip away from me)
I'm talking sex motion
I'm talking 'bout fashion
I'm talking 'bout skin games
I'm talking 'bout secrets
(and i won't let my heart run away with me)
I'm talking temptation
I'm talking 'bout memories
I'm talking 'bout feelings
I'm talking 'bout emotion
We generate lies
We generate pictures
We generate a video film
That i couldn't let my best friend see
I'd rather lose than forgive you
We generate shame
We generate secrets
We generate a reason for living
And we generate a reason for not
I'd rather hurt than forget you
I can't believe that i'm here
I can't believe what i've seen
I can't believe what i'm doing to you
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Are We Growing Wise
Of National security we so often hear
Just one more example of power held through fear
We may be growing older but are we growing wise
We trust the power hungry and swallow their lies?
We only believe what we want to believe
And for to cling to power us they gladly deceive
For their love of power they create us and they
Why must we believe what these liars to us say?
About people we don't know from a bar of soap
When we vote people like them to power for peace can we dare to hope?
'Tis time we voted out the war men and give those for peace a go
'Tis from concilitary words not war words peace can only grow.
For to cling to their power only fear they create
And they tell us who to trust and they tell us who to hate
And for our choice of leaders on Election Day
In wars caused by hatred we all have to pay.
poem by Francis Duggan
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We're going to try to create some programs that are going to generate viewer interest and appointment viewing. We still will have news on Headline News.
quote by Jim Walton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Feeling Okay To Be Ignored
Being alone does not have to mean loneliness.
Or interpreted by others as a desperate existence,
For one who has chosen...
To live a life without accepting nonsense.
And feeling okay to be ignored,
When others believed one's actions were foolish.
And on a daily basis...
One like this does what it takes,
To ensure a peace discovered...
Is not replaced or exits to escape,
By others trying to find their way...
Through a chaos they have created to permit.
No phones to answer or knocks on the door,
Can take away what one has earned.
Not when one has found what one adores.
An arrival of a peace within and quiet restored.
One hopes to keep with a feasting kept...
With no regrets and forevermore.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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