Deluded By Images Of Correct Values
Feeling imprisoned,
With a mate sharing space...
And growing to hate,
Isn't a relationship...
That is blessed to discover,
Eventual bliss...
Interpretated as proper social etiquette.
However...
There are still many left,
Hanging onto idealistic visions.
Aging faster than dust can collect on typewriters.
And a gallon of gas remembered purchased,
At less than a buck.
With that dollar spent returning some cents.
And common sense?
Well...
Staying together for the sake of children,
Is not only a mistake.
It is a catastrophe that promises the function,
Of a long lasting life of dysfunction...
For any 'kid' enforced to live through this,
Without being emotionally affected.
And convinced to be of good behavior,
Means to be totally crazed...
These days!
Removed yourself from these situations,
For the sake of sanity.
Whatever to anyone 'that' should mean.
Perhaps being less obvious...
One drives a 'vehicle' without a full tank.
And getting home before being pushed,
To one's limit starts.
Whatever it takes,
To keep from being charged for domestic abuse...
Becomes an added issue to face disgracefully.
Dysfunctions of all kinds already represent,
A tolerance for ignorance.
And hypocrites deluded by images of correct values...
Seem to be behind the marketing to sell this sickness,
At higher the price we all eventually are 'taxed' to pay!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A Gallon Of Gas
Ive been waiting for years to buy a brand new cadillac
But now that Ive got one I want to send it right back
I cant afford the gas to fill my luxury limousine
But even if I had the dough no ones got no gasoline
I went to my local dealer to see if he could set me straight
He said theres a little gas going but Id have to wait
But he offered some red hot speed and some really high grade hash
But a gallon of gas cant be purchased anywhere for any amount of cash
I can score you some coke and some grade one grass
But I cant get a gallon of gas
Ive got some downers some speed all the drugs that you need
But I cant get a gallon of gas
Theres no more left to buy or sell
Theres no more oil left in the well
A gallon of gas cant be purchased anywhere
For any amount of cash
Two extra verses from long version:
I love your body-work, but youre really no use
How can I drive you when I got no juice?
Because its stuck in neutral and my engines got no speed
And the highways are deserted
And the air smells unnaturally clean.
Its got power-assisted overdrive and carpets on the floor,
But its parked out front just like a dead dinosaur.
And Ill be paying off the bank for 45 years or more.
It should go 100 miles an hour,
But its never moved away from my door.
Who needs a car and a seven-forty-seven
When you cant buy a gallon of gas
Who needs a highway, an airport or a jet
When you cant get a gallon of gas
Theres no more left to buy or sell
Theres no more oil left in the well
A gallon of gas cant be purchased anywhere
For any amount of cash
You cant buy a gallon of gas
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Authority of Self Expression
Who are you to choose what I do is not suitable?
And...
Who made you the authority of self expression?
Who fell ill and was left crazed?
Who announced you a scholar of prim and proper ways?
Chill that lip around me, please.
My days weren't hand fed by a highly paid nanny.
Nor did I grow to know life through chit chat and gossip.
However...
I have experienced 'intelligent ignorance'.
You know...
The kind that is confined to reading books,
To uncover an interpretation of correctness and etiquette.
Written by someone who deplores common sense.
And suffocates from a corked behind.
That is the way from here it looks.
As if someone is walking,
Trying their best to hold tightly onto a thin dime.
Who are you to choose what I do is not suitable?
And...
Who made you the authority of self expression?
And...
Who announced you a scholar of prim and proper ways?
Who fell ill and was left crazed?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Despicable And Disrespecting Ways
Appalled and giving looks of disdain,
They with their exclusive and self righteous memberships...
Snear at others with blemished records.
From a past long ago regarded as youthfully spent.
And affecting any chance today they may walk upon water.
Of course...
These are the same people,
Who annoint themselves keepers of etiquette.
As passers of the ultimate judgements.
They also create the rules.
And 'makeup' the laws too.
And they who declare themselves above dirt and dust,
Have been the same ones supporting...
The marketing of decadence.
The very garbage surrounding us.
They are same ones driving up and down...
Trashed streets in deprived neighborhoods cruising.
Hoping anyone is soliciting to sell themselves,
As fresh meat.
And those of the self righteous,
Pay for a few minutes to get a quick taste.
Wasting no time showing their bravery,
To jump in someone's face to say...
Who in their past has done acts of sleaze.
And who is not qualified,
To be a role model representing their high standards.
And who should be idolized by children,
Who neither can write nor read or speak English properly.
These are the same people,
Who annoint themselves keepers of etiquette.
Passers of ultimate judgements.
They also create the rules.
And 'makeup' the laws too.
Look around!
Who allowed the quality of life,
And foundations of kept standards and values...
To crumble down?
The poor, hungry and homeless?
Victims of not being deceivers, crooks or blatant thieves.
And they are brave enough to look in someone's face.
The ones who place themselves on high pedestals...
To say,
Who in their past has done acts of sleaze.
And who is not qualified to represent their high standards.
While expressing themselves to be forever hypnotized,
By their fantasized delusions.
And despicable and disrespecting ways on display,
Boasting about what they have, who they are...
In social name dropping sessions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Licensed
Just how ignorant can a deepened ignorance be?
Can it be leased?
Or sold as one's property?
If one is to sell their's...
In today's economy,
Will they become considered as wise?
Becoming wealthy,
To discover they have been despised.
Will those marketing common ignorance,
Be recognized at all?
Since there is currently a surplus of it...
And those who are certified and licensed,
Can not prove their ignorance is truly authentic!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Proud To Exist To Witness Possibilities
I am glad I represent a generation aging.
With an acceptance to reminisce and reflect,
Upon the times I have been blessed to remember.
I am glad to be able to think with a thought process,
That connects with a wish to daily adventure.
And welcome a maturity I have earned.
With all that being conscious of it has to offer.
Although I will admit,
A loneliness when so many are dismissing...
There are phases of life that should be natural.
And understood with observations undenied.
And moving forward instead of backwards.
Or remaining down to earth unchanged.
As many aging with their delusions intact,
Would like to claim with a sameness of sanity.
But isn't that what stagnation is?
A stubbornness that is fixed in place.
With ways that begin to collect ignored dust.
And being stagnant and stale, unchanged...
Is something I don't consider fresh or impressive.
Or sparkles as if proud to exist to witness possibilities.
Not if one is to grow and experience what life is.
Or come to realize this adventure isn't here to last forever.
I am glad I represent a generation aging,
With an acceptance.
I am glad to be able to think with a thought process,
That connects with a wish to daily adventure.
And welcome a maturity I have earned.
With all that being conscious of it has to offer,
As a life I have learned to live...
To appreciate, explore and not take for granted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Be Free of Not Having Children
My mother would have my sister and I...
As kids,
To go look for a nice sized switch.
Then strip it before she whipped us with it!
And then dared us to cry...
As if we weren't already hurting inside.
Then made us stand up straight,
As if at attention.
Telling us not to roll our eyes.
And not a word she wanted heard mentioned.
One day I did something...
And I chose from my mother to run.
I was stunned she was running right behind me fast.
She snatched me by the neck,
And proceeded to spank my ass!
Disciplined?
My mother played softball,
And my father had been a boxer.
Do you think I have survived all these years...
Trying to out foxed those two.
Knowing what they could do...
And convinced they did well at what they did!
Disciplined?
We were not told twice,
To do something again they said they did not like.
And my father did not have to raise a finger.
All he did was use his eyes.
'Daddy, please! Don't look at me like that! '
But my mother on the other hand,
Commanded well our ship!
Whenever she began to raise her voice...
Mimmie and I knew we were heading for something quick!
And crying we would do first...
Because we knew there was no exit!
I can hear my mother's voice today.
If I had threatened to call 911.
She would hand me the phone and tell me to dial.
And if the police should arrive...
They would discover a missing child.
Both of my parents were extremely humorous.
However...
My mama did not play,
If we did not obey!
In those days when parenting
Was out of the hands of the government!
And although we may have grown up 'slightly' dysfunctional.
Dysfunctions and all...
Today?
We are happy we grew up the way we did.
And if I had children,
Living today as these 'hardhead' children do...
I wouldn't dare them to call 911.
That option?
Not available!
Not if I'm to play poppa.
No!
They wouldn't get a chance to!
And I might be visited as I sat in prison!
But any child of mine...
Would get a rod struck to their behind.
Like lightening...hot and sizzling.
Sparing me the grief that today's parents find.
My children would pay me attention.
And we together would share respect.
Perhaps that's why I live my life blessed.
To be free of not having children!
I could not stand by as they lived lives,
Attracted to standards bathed in degradation.
I'm not 'that' patriotic!
And to live without feeling guilt...
Or in a remorse,
That leaves me in debt AND regret!
I am grateful to be that blessed...
Yes.
I know my limitations.
And I am glad I do not have children,
Insisting to see me pushed to them!
I love my life lived...
Without displaying a rage that drives me crazed,
And confined!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Obligated to be Crazed
Obligated to be crazed!
It seems that way,
Where the people's minds are
These days.
Poisoned by foods processed and packaged.
Tainted by liquids,
Whether alcoholic or faucets tapped.
Chemicalized soft drinks and sugared cereals...
Leave our children hooked.
And parents left with empty pocketbooks.
Obligated to be crazed!
It seems that way,
Where the people's minds are
These days.
Those claiming to have faith,
Feel unsafe in their homes.
They call themselves 'christians'
But pack guns to protect themselves...
From lifestyles they have condoned!
They are the ones believing they have rights,
Of all kinds.
Even to self destruct...
In racial divisions,
They've been conditioned to keep up!
And like ducks following 'quacks'
To be led like sheep to dead ends!
These same folks provoke others in conflicts...
They inflict and then insist,
There are needs to defend.
Enlightenment for them,
Means to incite bitterness and not peace!
Blaming their standards and values have diminished.
And they would feel more secured,
By the hiring of more police on urban streets.
Obligated to be crazed!
It seems that way,
Where the people's minds are
These days.
But a self examination,
That has increased their degradation...
Is too obvious although not admitted.
That this is mindset praised.
Demented!
And obligated to be crazed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Decide To Take Flight As An Aging Fugitive
When did a common sense,
Once adored find its end?
And when did insanity...
Become one's welcomed friend?
I remember the days,
Those crazed were ignored.
Never did I think...
Folks like this would be adored.
Enforced conflicts,
Have been admitted addictions...
Few can quit.
With no one self examining...
The cause and effect of any of this!
When did a common sense,
Once adored find its end?
And when did insanity...
Become one's welcomed friend?
'You,
Old man...
Have ideals that have hit the fan.
And gone away like every yesterday lived...
Leaving people like you,
To chose to be a captive hostage...
Or decide to take flight as an aging fugitive.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Freed From Quantitative Measures
Too many traditions have been enriched,
By proper etiquette.
And what is deemed as political correctness.
An evaluation taking place,
Have many coming face to face...
With what makes them happy.
Some are finding happiness,
Is not being self absorbed with the wishes of others.
And a desire to return to a quality of life,
Freed from quantitative measures...
Pressured by the onslaught,
Of egotistical impressions to make...
For the sake of being accepted,
Has increased in the exchange...
Of what is more valued.
Too many traditions have been enriched,
By proper etiquette.
And what is deemed as political correctness.
These depictions have been subjected to rapid change.
With a simple hug from someone touched,
The only desire sought these days.
And a sincerity felt has become more precious.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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$10 a Gallon?
$10 a gallon?
For what?
'Does that really matter now?
When it approached
One dollar per gallon...
You should have voiced your concern then!
Not when your pockets have gotten thin.
And deepened to hold more lint!
You want to make cents?
Put these sunglasses on.
Grab a twig from a bush...
And get to begging!
MAYBE...
You might gain some sympathy,
From someone who recognizes you are in disguise.
And they are in the mood,
To share with you their good attitude.
IF they have some of 'that' left! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Best Of Images That Represent
Expensive is the ongoing investment made,
In ignorance.
No longer is it cost effective,
Deciding who sees and who stays blind.
Or the act to praise some with an uplifting done,
While leaving others behind.
Who made the decision,
To choose those to represent high ideals?
Who made the decision,
Selected standards and values...
Would be the best etiquette?
Who decided to mess up everything like this?
And who self righteous,
Will ever admit...
Something has gone terribly wrong,
In their insistence persisted...
Of this permitted existence.
Expensive is the ongoing investment made,
In ignorance.
No longer is it cost effective,
Deciding who sees and who stays blind.
Or the act to praise some with an uplifting done,
While leaving others behind.
Who made the decision,
To choose those to represent high ideals?
Who made the decision,
Selected standards and values...
Would be the best etiquette?
Who decided to mess up everything like this?
And please,
Don't let it be...
The act of illegal aliens.
Or those homeless and hungry,
Pleading on their knees.
Wishing to give the best of images that represent,
The quality of life and those highlights of a great society.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Domestic Violence
Burned to a crisp,
And blistered by it.
Some may not come to expect,
A direct announcement one might get.
From one sharing a relationship...
That time has come,
For the two of them to split!
Burned to a crisp,
And blistered by it.
Some signs are subtle.
Like an introduction made,
Of a new face someone has laid.
Under unusual circumstances.
When a spouse or a mate...
Is caught in broad daylight,
Making obvious advances.
Other signs are more direct!
Like catching a spouse or a mate,
Making arrangements for a date!
And that date shows up...
To immediately strip,
And both expose naked butts!
THIS is a 'clue'...
Someone has been fooling around,
On you!
And cares less what it is you do!
I would think this relationship...
Has lost something 'valued' too!
Wouldn't you?
Burned to a crisp,
And blistered by it.
Some may not come to expect,
A direct announcement one might get.
From one sharing a relationship...
That time has come,
For the two of them to split!
And to prove this...
Someone dares to incite,
Domestic violence!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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All Kinds Of Time
The clocks running down
the teams losing ground
to the opposing defense
the young quarterback
waits for the snap
when suddenly it all starts to make sense
he's got all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he takes a step back
he's under attack
but he knows that no one can touch him now
he seems so at ease
a strange inner peace
its all that he's feeling somehow
he's got all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he thinks of his mother
he thinks of his bride to be
he thinks of his father
his two younger brothers
gathered around the wide screen t.v.
he looks to the left
he looks to the right
and there in a golden ray of light
and there his open man
just like he planned
the world is his tonight
he's got all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Increasingly Addicted
Cultural and self hate issues,
Will remain to stay...
For those unable to face them to correct.
With a choosing to view them not as foolish,
But choices made embedded forever to accept.
And people living where hate crimes exist,
Have been fed with beliefs what is done is moralistic.
With a hoping that a praying of truths away...
Will someday validate their animalistic ways.
Many are embarrassed by realities.
Believing themselves immuned...
From truth obvious and seen.
Too many have been taught truth demeans.
And many are rooted in concepts held,
That if a telling of a lie is kept long enough...
Their denials will rise to heights.
And facts that exist will vanish from their eyes.
Cultural and self hate issues,
Will remain to stay...
For those unable to face them to correct.
With a choosing to view them not as foolish...
But tools to use to abuse for amusement.
Labelling people evil who speak with truth,
To keep lives lived unchanged and deluded...
Only transfers those minds medicated on fantasies,
To become increasingly addicted...
Limited and mentally sick.
For all eventually wishing to awaken from this!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Road We Travel
We all have our varying points of views.
Upon the onset of choosing our paths.
And eventually,
Those experiences we have...
Teaches us,
To become less judgemental of others.
With an acceptance and insight,
Of everyone's individual rights...
To live their own lives,
In ways we may not like upon sight.
With less attempts to implement our own values.
Although this is hard to do.
Especially when the direction of those views,
Have been critically enforced upon our 'different' visions.
And...
Hopefully,
Learning...
As we age and self reflect upon the process of life,
That the road we travel...
From wherever the route that leads us to it,
Confusing and sometimes baffling...
Narrows with a broader sense of comprehension.
With a willing to listen and not predict.
And we become more understanding,
With an empathy easier given that's quick...
To those decisions people make for themselves.
Realizing mistakes made to recover from them,
Is a part of life that becomes more and more familiar.
To discover the similarites of this journey we have taken.
With a freeing of a feeling,
To be more exposed amongst those who know.
And caring less,
Who has yet to arrive.
Knowing one day they will.
Just as those who made it did.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No Values / No More Lonely Nights
I hear them telling me that you're selling off the furniture
And even keep my personalized autographs
You might as well go all the way and sell your granny to the zoo
And while you're at it, may I go to my psychiatrist ?
He's making money out of making me laugh
But I don't mind , I wish that I could say the same about you
It seems to me that you've still got no values
Oh you know you're not so hot, no values
And I'll be glad if you went away again
No values . . . no values . . . no values at all
The city shark is at the dark and of the alleyway
You pays your money and you takes your choice
The artful dodger says he wants to pick a pocket or two
But you, you've taken up a place in high society
A personal friend of messrs rolls and royce
Got them all convinced that everything you say to them is true
It seems to me that you've still got no values
Oh you know you're not so hot, no values
You know you've got a lot, but no values
And I'd be glad if you went away again
No values . . . no values . . . no values at all
I like your wife's smile, I like her car
If I had your lifestyle, I wouldn't go far wrong
On the waters of life you row your boat
Into the strongest tide that you can find
On the darkest of nights we were two of a kind
We went through it all before the tide went out
And left us stranded on the shore
How was I to know
How was I to know
Well you ain't got no values
You know you think you're hot, no values
You know you've got a lot, but no values
And I'd be glad if you went away again
No values . . . no values . . . no values at all
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Keep The Sabbath-day Holy
'Remember Man, to keep Sabbath holy',
The Third commandment of God clearly says;
And if you can't, 'twill be your own folly;
Your life gets spent wholly in worldly ways.
Oh, what a pleasure hearing Sunday Mass,
And taking part in God's great sacrifice!
God made the six days, for man's sake; Alas!
The Sabbath day is God's just asking price!
What guilty feelings fill my heart when I,
Don't go for Sunday's Liturgical rites?
A good habit for soul's sake should not die;
God's candle in our heart, it serves to light.
Can I not spend just one day for God's sake?
'Tis worth the swim in Elysium- God's Lake!
poem by John Celes
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Your Assessment Pleases
If I had no embedded indoctrinations,
Or a thumb to suck when I was young.
Would I be as stunned to discover,
Those unaccustomed to living in the projects...
Had less dysfunctions,
Than the ones I was 'told' I had?
Especially when I grew up in a time,
When all my neighbors kept their doors opened.
And parents disciplined not only their children,
But any child within their reach.
And those who lived in suburbs then,
Would pretend they did not sit on toilets.
And I often wondered about that.
Since my mom would often say...
'Just be 'you'.
Let others folks think they have silver spoons in their mouths.
And walk around with their butts on their shoulders.'
For a very long time I looked for this.
I wanted my mother's visions to be validated.
~Ma?
May I ask you a question? ~
'What is it now...
Larry? '
~Check this out.
I've been looking all around for folks,
With silver spoons in their mouths.
And butts on their shoulders.
I walked all over too!
Where did you see this? ~
'Boy?
Something is wrong with you! '
My mother had her way of telling my sisters and I...
We were 'different' children.
If I had no embedded indoctrinations,
Or a thumb to suck when I was young.
Would I be as stunned to discover,
Those unaccustomed to living in the projects...
Had less dysfunctions,
Than the ones I was 'told' I had?
And I think about my childhood every now and then.
Wondering about all of those 'fortunate' and well dressed children.
Living in the suburbs.
And why they seem to have more problems then we had?
And why those 'kids' now with children...
Can't seem to hold themselves accountable,
For allowing the world to get sooo
Crazed!
'Boy?
Something is wrong with you! '
~Thank you, Ma!
I 'think' I know what you mean.~
'That's good to hear.
Now prove it by leaving me alone,
And go outside to play...
Like you're a 'normal' child.*
~Again...
Your assessment pleases.~
*Boy, if you don't get outta my face! *
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lantern
he lit his lantern and
walked out on the porch,
with his old dog
by his side....
he could see the wind
walking through the trees,
wrapped in the stillness
and comfort of darkness...
how long had it been?
25 cents a gallon gasoline,
Marlboros,25 cents a pack!
working all week for 55 dollars....
sawmills, factories, milking cows,
a hoe and a gallon jar of water.
hanging the gears on his old truck...
cold beer, making love all night....
civil unrest and high ideals,
bulletproof, with a taste for danger.
then the children came... working
more for less... till he became invisible....
and the world careened into madness,
enough was never enough....
and all his dreams fell to dust.....
the wings of the eagle rusted.
standing alone, with his dog,
peering into the night....
listening to whispering ghosts....
listening... for the voice of love....
for the sound of his
own heart beating!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Hurry Up! The Authorities Head This Way
What part of insanity,
Has your endorsement and support?
Forget about all of that,
Common sense with sanity talk.
That has long been aborted.
And away from reality,
People have walked!
Or screamed their way...
Into a rehabilitation cage.
To be monitored with instructions...
For a possibility of returning back,
To take their place...
In a society completely and totally crazed.
What part of insanity,
Has your endorsement and support?
You must choose a side very soon,
Before you've been labelled...
A maverick misfit!
Or someone with an attitude...
That expresses one to be a bad sport!
People have walked!
Or screamed their way...
Into a rehabilitation cage.
To be monitored with instructions...
For a possibility of returning back,
To take their place...
In a society completely and totally crazed.
Hurry up!
The 'authorities' head this way!
What part of insanity,
Has your endorsement and support?
If you decide right now,
To be one out of your mind...
They may leave you alone.
But I recommend don't hesitate.
Since independent thinkers...
Are quick for them to find!
'What are 'you' going to do? '
Me?
I'm prepared to tap dance.
And sing, 'Ol' Man Ribber'.
'You mean 'river'! '
No!
It's 'Ribber'.
Trust me.
Here they come!
Start shuffling.
And...
It's 'Yus Sah'!
You got that?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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