Declining Comprehensions
Void of perception...
An introspection,
Some don't understand.
Many are inflicted with mind limits.
With no benefits...
To assist this supply,
That has gotten out of hand.
Face to face with truth,
Is useless without eye contact.
Saying something as fact...
Can not be backed up by heresay!
Yet
It happens
But it shouldn't!
Yet it does and can offer,
Considerations for conflict.
This is the kind of sick that is unaware,
Of it existing.
No one explores a better way.
Than the shutting down of borders,
And the closing of cracked doors!
Leaving everything to be driven,
Down the drain!
With claims of no one listening!
With an opened ear.
And everyone seems to fear,
Not being competitive in displaying more anger!
As we take seditives for this and that,
Just to keep ourselves...
Acceptably pretentious.
We do this consciously!
And self-righteously,
Standing in the path of others.
Those who beg for wanting less,
Than they already have!
Void of perception...
And how this rejection,
Stunts our very growth!
No matter who has been taught,
To pass judgements...
Based on declining comprehensions!
Every scene of this memoir,
In this age of reversing progress
Withessed,
And written about these times...
Will reveal detail upon detail,
A fast lip flipping delivery given.
A show of classic ignorance paraded,
With dignity and pride attached!
And masses attacked...
For disapproving this movement!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Free Yourself and Let It Go
Deflated ego?
You think I say the things I do to you,
To deflate your ego?
I am hoping my assistance,
Helps you get rid of it.
And seeing no benefit in being limited.
And that's what your ego has done!
Made you believe you are number one.
And everything you do is correct.
Without a self examination...
Needed to allow you to live your best yet.
Deflated ego?
I may say some things to you that upsets.
I may even criticize something you do,
You accept as your best.
I might even attempt to strip,
That façade you charade.
Since it's your ego that has you 'tripped'...
When you see it for what it is,
You will realize your greatness has nothing to do with it.
In fact it is keeping you,
Inflated with bs and other nonsense.
Deflate your ego?
You think I do that,
From a threat I feel.
To diminish you in some way...
So I would have a greater appeal?
And deflating your ego would give me thrills?
You need to free yourself and let it go.
If you believe that keeping it,
Inspires a greater you with heights to reach!
Free yourself and let it go.
That ego you've got stunts your growth!
Free yourself and let it go.
That ego you've got stunts your growth!
Free yourself and let it go.
That ego you've got stunts your growth!
Stunts your growth!
Stunts your growth!
That ego you've got stunts your growth!
Stunts your growth!
Stunts your growth!
That ego you've got stunts your growth!
Stunts your growth!
Stunts your growth!
That ego you've got stunts your growth!
Stunts your growth!
Stunts your growth!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Has Been Earned
What more can be believed,
When only one belief is given.
One can be set free...
When truth is not a perception of life.
But received as an acknowledgement of it.
And that is not a perception...
To be defined by someone's acceptance,
Or rejection of a presence full of light!
One's awakening to the 'self'
Provides all truth defined!
And a peace of mind like that discovered and found,
Is not a debate subjected to confusion or mental conflict.
Awaiting one to be attached and baited.
Scraped over hot coals to be heated.
To fulfill a use...
Until that has been done to deplete.
In a despair that mistreats with deception.
It has been earned!
That peace of mind that comes one finds.
Burning with desire,
That rises one from an entangled mire.
Freed and cleared of such divisions.
Uncompromised by doubt!
One should not invite confusion of any kind.
Not in these times when that is readily available.
Beseech and reach for a higher consciousness,
That pleases.
Share it...
And release someone,
Who feels trapped and shackled...
Attracted to a designed bondage.
Enforced by practiced limitations known!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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For No Apparent Reason
Those gifted with selected memories,
Never seem to admit...
Their presence at the scene of misdeeds done.
And yet can express to the minutest detail,
Of what someone else to them has inflicted.
As they were innocently being attacked,
For no apparent reason.
While they did the best they could,
To make attempts to comprehend the sense of it.
And this they wish,
With a re-telling of such events...
As convincingly as possible.
However...
There is just one problem in the doing of this.
There are too many people,
Making claims they had been victimized...
Randomly.
Without having any knowledge of their participation.
And the eyes of those who choose to remain sane,
Do their best to keep at distances invisible...
To the doings of those refusing any hints of reality.
Or the phenomenon of the presence of truth.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Trapped
You say you don't believe in this.
Or do you believe in that.
You don't believe in a Supreme existence.
Although you do verify your presence as fact.
And in listening to you,
I wonder where your mind is at!
We all live on a planet that is not man made.
And nothing in the Universe,
Relies on you or your point of view.
Without the Sun...
Your life as you know it,
Would not have begun.
And still you disbelieve...
The trees and the complexities,
Allows you to breathe.
And your choice to be here...
Was from your perception to concieve?
You say you don't believe in this.
Or do you believe in that.
You don't believe in a Supreme existence.
Although you do verify your presence as fact.
And in listening to you,
I wonder where your mind is at!
You certainly have been ill informed.
And your own ignorance has kept you trapped.
So your purpose here is accidental?
And you are going to ensure,
You will leave this scene...
As a tragic crime commited as witnessed?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Is the Kind of Life
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
We are born to believe,
What is fed to us.
This 'feeding' is received...
And what is perceived,
We with others retrieve with like minds!
Preferring to find those of the same kind,
With like 'experiences' shared without fear!
And fear keeps us all indoctrinated to accept doubt!
Isn't that what marketing peace is about?
With the realization it will never be found...
As we rely on the production of conflict and confusion,
To always be identified!
Knowing that as well as we do.
And hoping this in our lives stays around!
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
And is kept alive to thrive...
In comfort zones,
Until the day we die!
Leaving those who defy these 'truths'...
Spilling their guts out in confession booths.
Or squeezing themselves to sit in pews...
As they listen to hypocrites from pulpits preach,
To leech on minds already screwed and confused!
And this is the kind of life,
We all have come to love!
Listening to teachings,
That 'demons' from hell have no wings...
Allowing to be demoralized on Sunday,
Learning more about the devil...
As we hear these 'disciples' sing!
And this is the kind of life,
We all have come to love!
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Doors of Perception
The doors of perception of heaven and hell
should always stay slightly ajar,
nine lives need we not to distill truth whose bell
can clearly be heard from afar.
The doors of perception, of second-sight, close
before who would tolerance bar,
but whatever beliefs one looks into, each shows
awareness that life’s on a par
with the spring of the salmon as upstream they swell
though ‘retour à la source’ scales can scar.
Successful soul’s progress sheds superfluous shell
as earthworm evolves into star.
(21 April 1989)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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In His Eyes! And Ours
Times then were lived,
Within our means.
We valued being clean.
Respected as expected.
This is what everyone did without neglect.
And embraced hygiene!
This was a fact of life known and seen!
Sold on concepts of a desire to learn.
Wanting to comprehend lessons taught...
That broadened our lives with a competitiveness.
With a fear of limits ignorance welcomed.
And we then wished no part of this.
We sought to grow.
And this assisted with an identity dignity presented.
Times then were lived within our means.
To deceive...
Was then thought to be despicable.
To cheat and lie about it,
Did not excite or sit well...
With those who suffered through the consequences,
Of their ways that dismayed.
Today...
People talk the 'walk' but do not walk the talk.
People say they have good intentions.
But leave no evidence of it seen.
Today...
People talk about their standards and values.
As if this is held in an exclusiveness.
And a membership is required for this to be addressed.
Today...
People are obsessed with their possessions.
Their good credit scores and loans they can obtain.
Because they have maintained status given,
Although they keep blemishes hidden...
That may reveal their tainted names.
And they cheat.
Lie.
And deceive!
With lifestyles lived well above their means.
And yet,
When suspected...
Nothing about them is respected.
Nor do the judgements they pass on others...
Keep tax collectors from locking them out,
From foreclosed homes they bragged about.
OR...
Do they 'today' have the means to feed, protect
Or shelter themselves,
In peace.
Times we lived then,
Were lived within our means.
And we were taught to be grateful.
To feel we were blessed.
And we should express this to God.
On a daily basis kept routined!
Like promises we made to ensure we had good hygiene.
And then God...
And only God,
Will make sure our lives lived were lived right!
In His eyes!
And ours.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ban The Void
Ban the void.
Tch.
Ban the void.
Tch, tch.
Ban the void.
Tch.
Ban the void.
Tch, tch.
Grandma stopped baking cakes.
Tch.
Ban the void.
Tch, tch.
Brought me my first heartbreak.
Tch.
Ban the void.
I told her I couldn't take it.
She 'had' to bake another cake for me!
Tch.
Ban the void.
She said she was going on strike!
Tch.
Ban the void.
And even though I didn't like it!
Tch.
Ban the void.
She's not gonna cook in the kitchen,
She's itching to do something else to please!
Tch
Ban the void.
Tch.
Ban the void.
She brought herself a brand new car.
Tch.
Ban the void.
Tch, tch.
And drove to wherever she wanted.
Tch.
Ban the void.
She said she had her own special needs.
And will come and go whenever that need pleases!
Tch.
Ban the void.
I got so annoyed...
And I tried to stop that void deep down in me!
Oh...
Ban the void!
I couldn't go to sleep!
I dreamt of grandma's baking,
And it teased me!
I even cried my eyes.
But grandma's sweet potato pie kept creepin'.
Oh...
Ban the void!
Ban the void!
Oh...
Ban the void.
Grandma loved her brand new car.
And never got one ticket,
For her speedin'!
Ban the void.
Tch.
Ban the void.
Tch, tch.
Ban the void.
Oh...
Dedicated To:
In loving memory...
Clara Louise Countryman Pertillar
'Miss you, grandma! '
Love,
Larry
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sculptor
he first sculpted a very shapely body of a woman
thin arms, slender body, soft fingers,
porcelain smooth skin
supple breasts
complete with a face
and other
body parts to the last detail
possible
then he sculpted the man
the usual man with strong arms
gentle eyes and well chiseled
thighs
complete with a face
and other body parts to the last detail
possible
he is so kind enough
to leave the two
in the privacy
of their new found existence
that his chisels
and hammers gave them
despite the fact
that he is gay
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Move On With Your Charming Ways Fixed To Leech
You requested my assistance,
In your questioned delivery.
And when I insisted that I could not...
You began to offend my dignity.
And instead of getting angered,
I respected you...
And suggested to you with hints.
To only have you say to me...
My way to you did not make sense.
You requested my assistance,
In your questioned delivery.
And when I insisted that I could not...
You began to offend my dignity.
And now when I don't respond to you,
With an expressed interest...
You want to defame my intentions meant,
By claiming in public with derogatory statements...
What you think about me,
To those who have no clue about your indignities.
And like I have stated to you once before,
It is not me but you,
That must open your own doors.
My experience in doing this for myself,
Is not transferrable to anyone else...
To decide what it is I have pursued for years,
Takes for them too much time to accomplish.
Because work and sweat is involved with some tears.
And like I have stated to you once before,
It is not me but you,
That must open your own doors.
I am not assigned to be anyone's butler,
Doormat.
Or slave!
I may offer to assist,
But when my assistance is regarded useless...
Move on with your charming ways fixed to leech.
Don't stab me in the back,
Because your insecurities wish to see me bleed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Have The Touch
The time I like is the rush hour, cos I like the rush
The pushing of the people, I like it all so much
Such a mass of motion, do not know where it goes
I move with the movement and ... I have the touch
Im waiting for ignition, Im looking for a spark
Any chance collision and I light up in the dark
There you stand before me, all that fur and all that hair
Oh, do I dare ... I have the touch
Only, only
Wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact with you
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Give me the thing I understand
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Shake hands, shake hands.
Any social occasion, hello, how do you do
All those introductions, I never miss my cue
So before a question, so before a doubt
My hand moves out and ... I have the touch
Only, only
Wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact with you
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Give me the thing I understand
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Shake those hands
Pull my chin, stroke my hair, scratch my nose, hug my knees
Try drink, food, cigarette, the tension will not ease
I tap my fingers, fold my arms, breathe in deep, cross my legs
Shrug my shoulders, stretch my back, but nothing seems to please
I need contact
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact
Tac-tacatac, tac-tacatac
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact
Tac-tacatac, tac-tacatac
I need contact
Ah, tac-tacatac
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact
I need contact.
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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P R I D E
Pride and armor
of a lineage, a perception
cautions and lifts inner to a
pedestal.........
lessons on its rule book
taught not to run back...
but fight back with dignity...
that is pride...
precursors wrote in regal ink
a kind of aura it transpires
a blend and its majestic ensemble
imprinted on a realm...
laurels from a bastion
a difference of a shield so strong..
royal drapes and its layers
vanished on sheets of democracy
but the blood veins carries
a blend...that holds power...
power to fight back with dignity
not to run back on tribulations..
not to fear back on defeats...
A circlet cosseted by ethnicity
on all odds and not to panic
on ordeals or die like a coward....
great grand mother scribbled before death
“Pride is not mind’s arrogance....
pride is mind’s power to hold self
on a revered and meaningful
pedestal....”.
poem by Rema Prasanaa
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Without going into too much detail, the end of my major action scene, after the climax of the scene, there was one little change that I suggested regarding the way things should turn out. It was in the detail of the tears of blood.
quote by Chiaki Kuriyama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thirteen
At first, this is the face I will show you
Shallow, thin, smooth
Then we feel each other, like some kind of
New found friends, I
Take another layer, and tell you, this is my face,
Some scars, and lines of age, and furrows,
Then we write many emails, and remember
Common things, like a certain familiarity,
Another layer is taken and exposed,
The face of a sick man, with some
Disappointments in his mind,
Some wounds, wrinkles, and so you
Think, are there other layers of faces still
To show,
Deeper, deeper is there another layer to show
Another face of this man?
Yes, there is another layer, more faces
Hidden underneath each layer,
As we go on, learning from ourselves,
And me learning from myself,
I will be digging for more faces,
Because I am never static
I am growing, and for each growth
Like molting
Another face comes out
Soon, I hope, I must come out
With the most beautiful face
The we can be both proud of,
It is just a matter of time
Depending on how well you have loved me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Faces and layers of faces
At first, this is the face I will show you
Shallow, thin, smooth
Then we feel each other, like some kind of
New found friends, I
Take another layer, and tell you, this is my face,
Some scars, and lines of age, and furrows,
Then we write many emails, and remember
Common things, like a certain familiarity,
Another layer is taken and exposed,
The face of a sick man, with some
Disappointments in his mind,
Some wounds, wrinkles, and so you
Think, are there other layers of faces still
To show,
Deeper, deeper is there another layer to show
Another face of this man?
Yes, there is another layer, more faces
Hidden underneath each layer,
As we go on, learning from ourselves,
And me learning from myself,
I will be digging for more faces,
Because I am never static
I am growing, and for each growth
Like molting
Another face comes out
Soon, I hope, I must come out
With the most beautiful face
The we can be both proud of,
It is just a matter of time
Depending on how well you have loved me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Have The Touch
The time I like is the rush hour, cos I like the rush
The pushing of the people - I like it all so much
Such a mass of motion - do not know where it goes
I move with the movement and ... I have the touch
Im waiting for ignition, Im looking for a spark
Any chance collision and I light up in the dark
There you stand before me, all that fur and all that hair
Oh, do I dare ... I have the touch
Wanting contact
Im wanting contact
Im wanting contact with you
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Give me the thing I understand
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Any social occasion, its hello, how do you do
All those introductions, I never miss my cue
So before a question, so before a doubt
My hand moves out and ... I have the touch
Wanting contact
Im wanting contact
Im wanting contact with you
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Give me the thing I understand
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Pull my chin, stroke my hair, scratch my nose, hug my knees
Try drink, food, cigarette, tension will not ease
I tap my fingers, fold my arms, breathe in deep, cross my legs
Shrug my shoulders, stretch my back - but nothing seems
To please
I need contact
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perception Of Love
It's not right,
That I find I am fighting...
Sleep at night.
Perplexed...
By your perception of love.
And I lay seeking...
With wishes to meet,
Your unspoken expectations.
It's not right.
It's not right,
That I keep reaching to heights.
Thinking I might be able to represent,
What I believe is meant...
When given your silent treatment.
I ask of you what is on your mind?
And each time you reply, 'Nothing.'
But my feelings do not lie.
There is something in you from me you hide.
And this you deny.
When it comes time for you to leave,
I get a hug without a squeeze.
And a distant kiss...
Far from passionate.
Is this the last time I will see you anymore?
Those thoughts race through my mind...
As I take a peek at you,
Walking away from my closing door.
It's not right,
That I find I am fighting...
Sleep at night.
Perplexed...
By your perception of love.
Or is that my perception that over re-acts.
As I am left...
Feeling a hopelessness without a single fact.
'Do you love me? ' I think to myself as I wish.
And maybe yours is not admitted...
Because you are just too afraid to know it.
And my willingness to show mine,
Has blinded you.
Yeah...
That's what it is.
I've made you too afraid to know it!
Whew!
Yeah.
That's what it is.
I've made you too afraid to know it!
Too afraid to show it,
Yet.
What a relief.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Taught To Fear And Suffer
Taught not born,
To hate.
Taught not born,
To fear.
Taught not born,
To discriminate.
And taught not born,
To jeer.
Taught not born,
To give.
Taught not born,
To take.
Taught not born to be of benefit to others.
But many bigots interfere...
With an infliction of their insecurities,
That smother one another.
Some are taught they are better than most human beings.
With a stunting of their own growth,
In isolated dreams.
And then their are those who confront others,
With obvious legitimate needs.
Ultimately to suffer from these misdeeds.
Taught not born,
To hate.
Taught not born,
To fear.
Taught not born,
To discriminate.
And taught not born,
To jeer.
Taught to greed selfishly!
Taught to deceive and steal like thieves!
And taught to cheat to succeed...
No matter who does the suffering and bleeds.
Taught to fear and suffer.
As a right,
To incite and ignite...
Fear.
As a right,
To incite and ignite...
Suffering,
Inflicted.
As a right to incite and ignite,
Fear!
Taught to fear and suffer.
As a right,
To incite and ignite...
Fear.
As a right,
To incite and ignite...
Suffering,
Inflicted.
As a right to incite and ignite,
Fear!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Fear Takes Over My Depression
This depression causes me fear
causes the fear in life to come out
the fear or confusion and the fear of loss
I try hard not to think of fear and this depression
but somehow the depression lets the fear back into
my body and lets the fear take over the sadness
I would rather feel sadness, pain and anger than fear
the fear that I feel makes me feel weak and worthless
I try to love but the fear steps into place once again
I am afraid to love cause I fear hurt
it's gray all the time in my head
while I try to make it look like it is all sunshine and rainbows
on my face with the smile i put on for everyone
while on the inside I wanna cry!
cause the depression lets my past come back
the flashbacks of the unwanted
unwanted that I just want to go away
I try to work through the problems but I still cant get it all out
I wonder if I talk about every incident step by step detail by detail
and bassically relive it, if that will take it away!
but here is that fear again from the depression
the fear of talking and reliving the past! !
my depression causes me fear!
.
poem by Juliana Willsey
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Fist and Fist
Guard the fist with another fist,
To foot the blame drifts so as to assist;
The fighting boasts, it treats, it mends
And resurrection created promise that sends
A message to the layers of the soul,
The being of a created one, in his bowl.
To befit the times we have begotten a kind
That dissolved the youth and its mind.
It was a company of strangers too much in peace,
That is how we differ in us, this is the centerpiece.
My actions have a crease, it spoilt me,
Where I prayed for some time and got to see.
This prayer is void as the cosmos
When I worshipped for someone close.
The encounter I experienced was mad,
I have to face the hairy scene as the sad.
poem by Naveed Akram
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