Despite The Lies, Deceit And Torment
People with selective memories,
Always want others not to remember...
What it was they had done.
Especially to those who have survived,
To heal from wounds to live happy lives...
Despite the lies, deceit and torment,
Some enjoyed inflicting upon them.
And...
Coincidentally,
They remain the same people today...
Who selectively 'choose' to forget,
What it was done they did decisively to others...
With a purpose to damage and affect their lives.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Conditioned That Money Should Be Prized
When people are conditioned,
That money should be prized...
Of course their own lives,
Are going to be worthless to them.
With the use of color of their skins,
Light in complexion or dark as night...
Their minds with insights may be encased in,
The mentalities fed are to use this as a weapon,
To defend or ignite one's bigoted and racist appetite.
When people are conditioned,
That money should be prized.
When people are conditioned,
That money should be prized...
Of course there will be deceit.
Of course there will be told lies.
And those who champion the marketing of images,
Aren't going to consciously reflect true beauty...
As it should be.
Beauty will be selective.
And chosen as a commodity.
To sell to those impressed,
And depress with suppression...
Those weakened through enforcing a belief!
When people are conditioned,
That money should be prized...
Of course there will be deceit.
Of course there will be told lies.
When people are conditioned,
That money should be prized...
Of course their own lives,
Are going to be worthless to them.
Of course they are going to feel subservient,
From birth until their lives end!
When people are conditioned,
That money should be prized...
Those who get and hoard it best,
Will have others believe...
Their minds are at rest!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Always Remember, Never Forget
I will always remember
I will never forget
How forever
Can be ended in one minute
I will always remember
I will never forget
How people lay down their lives
All for the freedoms i get
I will always remember
I will never forget
How love can last forever
And only memories can be left
I will always remember
I will never forget
All the memories that are left
poem by Arianna Loshnowsky
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There Is Nothing Uncanny About It
It is just uncanny.
And quite a mystery to me...
Why acts or violence,
Inequities and disparites...
With a rise of racial tension,
Could exist to affect the lives of so many.
How can you explain this movement,
That seems to have come...
To change all of our lives so drastically.
'What are you talking about?
Is this another rumor?
Or a new TV show?
Everywhere I go,
People choose to exaggerate or embellish...
The slightest thing.
If people didn't live accepting their denials,
We'd all be living a better quality of life.
And there is nothing uncanny about it.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Way We Were
Spoken:
Well you ladies out there
You know what im
Im talkin bout ya
But you wanna know something?
Did you ever try to remember or
Or just place up a memory in your mind
And it always seems so far away
So hard to find
Memories
Light the corners of my mind
Misty water-color memories
Of the way we were
Scattered pictures
Of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another
(oh yesterday) for the way we were
Can it be that it was all so simple then
Or has time rewritten every line
If we had the change to do it all again
Spoken:
Tell me, how many of you would live your lives again
I would too
You girls?
Memories
May be beautiful and yet
Whats too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget
And so its the laughter
We will remember
Whenever we remember
The way we were
The way we were
Whoaaahhhh
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Their Closest Relatives
People hypnotized and transfixed,
Have grown more accustomed
To their movie productions.
And those creative emotional TV shows.
So accustomed to myths,
People are.
And the praying to what is believed,
To what has been embedded
In their minds,
Exists.
People do not wish to be told,
About the thought process of Nature.
And how that goes.
Or about Earth and Mother Nature.
The relationship between them.
How that works and what they know.
People wish and desire to accept,
They are more powerful
Than that which 'allowed' them life,
And gave to them breath.
People reject with a dismissing of this,
That which gifted them and permitted their lives.
People have grown more accustomed,
To their movie productions.
And those creative emotional TV shows.
Yet,
Give zero respect to their closest relatives.
The Sun, The Moon
And how together,
They affect their lives lived here on Earth.
People have chosen to become accustomed,
To ignoring as if they do not hear or listen.
Or are aware of them with comprehension.
People choose not to accept this as is.
People choose to believe from that which exist,
They are not born from it.
People choose for themselves to believe,
For them
There is no connection to perceive.
Even though what is they can not conceive,
Flows through their veins and bleeds!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If People Did What They Enjoyed
If people did what they enjoyed,
There would be fewer people in debt.
With an identifying who there were.
And the Joneses living next door,
Could live their lives without fearing...
Who tries to keep up with them.
Once they decided...
Living basically was a choice.
And something they did not have to do.
Preventing health and mental issues.
As well as an economic crisis!
If people did what they enjoyed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Heeding the Call to Their Expectations
Initiators, instigators, implementators...
Whatever you want to call people,
Who create their own dilemmas...
With an inviting of rage,
To then put the blame on someone else...
For actions they will not admit,
Are of their own making.
Although accuse those they say and do...
That they want out of their lives,
For not doing enough to help them...
When faced with a crisis,
Are those they despise publicly...
For not doing what they want done,
BECAUSE...
They are entitled.
And they wonder why their lives,
With whatever natural disasters they face...
Have come to affect them,
In places...
Where they have gone,
To isolate themselves...
Yelling for calls for 'help'!
Do the best the can to prioritize,
Their madness.
From 'who' or 'whom' or 'what'...
Do they believe,
Will come rushing to their aid?
Heeding the call to their expectations?
The very same people,
They have attempted to eliminate...
From being too controlling,
In being instrumental in their lives.
To dry their weeping eyes.
There is no doubt why people who shout,
Are being today...
More ignored.
With a focus that shows them to be,
The reasons why any progress is stalled.
Not only are these people 'nutts'.
They are clearly the ones needing to be locked up.
To allow humanity to rid its fences.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Is This Possible
Is it possible,
That some go out of their way...
To be noticably lacking of any skill,
Other than theft.
With no thought process,
Unless it is borrowed.
Is it possible?
Is it possible not to comprehend,
What creativity means?
Is it possible to clearly plagiarize,
Every concept that is seen...
And still declare one's originality!
Not only is this possible.
People have survived copying others' lives.
But to totally deny someone else's involvement...
Is the reason why some folks choose to hide,
While they continue to thrive off lies undetected.
Is this possible?
Not only is this possible...
That's how some people believe life works!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Life Is Truly Like A Stage
If we filmed all our lives,
Would people watch us as we cry,
Would people listen to our lies,
Would people sorrow as we die?
If our stories were to be told,
Would people let the stories unfold,
Would people notice us be so bold,
Would people love us as we grow?
If our lives were to intertwine,
Would people drink it as a wine,
Would people lurk as we shine,
Would people sit as we dine?
If we had a song to sing,
Would people listen to everything,
Would people know our love is like a ring,
Would people know you are my queen?
If we all had an undying love,
Would people let it fly like a dove,
Would people turn to the gods above,
Would people know of our true love?
If I had one thing to give,
Would people know your love is why I live,
Would people know the joy, to me, you give,
Would people know for your love I'd jump a cliff?
If you had one thing to take,
It would be my soul so great,
Now that people know my fate,
It is that my love for you came too late.
poem by Matthew Jenkins
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Once Enjoyed and Invited
We are not in those times anymore.
When people would choose others,
For their own ignorance...
Unstopped and revolving,
Through the same turnstiles...
To explore and bore.
More people are awakening,
To what time 'today' is.
With less of them wasting it,
To let go and live.
The ones who found gossip,
Whispered from ear to ear.
Find it almost impossible...
To ignite any intrerest,
With someone equally inquisitive.
We are not in those times,
Anymore.
When people would choose others,
For their own ignorance...
To Explore increasing boredom.
And more and more,
People are re-evaluating values.
Finding it difficult,
To do as they choose...
And have others listen too!
Once enjoyed and invited,
People seem today quicker to admit...
A deeper meaning sought,
Than the routine of nonsense...
That finds them sick of it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Can Hear You
i am here i can hear you.
but just like them i need not bother.
we are all free
we have our own light
freely given
we are responsible for our own lives
now
you too, no one can be responsible for you.
if you die, die alone.
if you cry, cry alone.
if you smile, and laugh, that is a decision.
if you die, that is a decision.
if you live, that is another decision.
a choice.
an ocean of choices.
an ocean of choices over a continent of options.
take your pick
and be yourself.
me? i choose to live. I choose to be happy.
i choose to be responsible. I don't bother sad people
or happy people.
I scratch my back when it itches.
i set the correct time for my ejaculations.
i sit and relax at my own pace.
i take a walk and breathe. I fill my lungs with so much air.
I float like a cloud. I jump like a grasshopper.
I see like the sun.
I fly like an eagle.
I get high sometimes
and get so low sometimes
but i care about myself
and live my life the way i want it.
i don't humiliate myself with making other people responsible for me.
I can do it.
I don't want other people to drive my car for me
i have hands.
I don't let people open the door for me
i have fingers.
I live my life. That is my business.
I am a breather, that is what i do.
When life does not have meaning anymore
like a wall
i bump it on the wall and then i go.
I know where. I decide that too.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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People In Other People's Lives They Have Never Met
Are you that person,
To take what you hear...
To be fact and not fiction?
Have you ever disliked someone,
Because of what you've heard?
Did you ever disrespect anyone,
To one day regret paying attention to gossip?
Helping to spread the rumors...
That defamed and shamed lives that were done.
And you had been the main one...
Wishing to pass on fresh innuendos to come.
And one day...
You just happen to meet,
The nicest person someone else introduced to you...
As the two of you met,
Coincidentally on the street.
And there you were,
Feeling embarrassed with remorse...
You and others,
Were the reason this person was divorced!
Well...
You are not alone.
There are so many people in other people's lives,
They have never met.
Nor have ever seen before...
Until they actually meet!
On the street or socially...
With wishes they could find someone like that,
To come home to and be happy to love.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hated Shadows
Happy people
with happy faces
Do happy things
in happy places
Little to worry
little to care
Never are sorry
never are there
Through the Viel they live
they cannot see
people around them
people like me
People Invisible
people Divisible
We are not important to happy people
we do not exist
broken shadows of broken people
Happines Glows
Shadows can not exist
With their happy lives
their happy husbands and happy wives
their happy bars
their happy cars
they shine brite
like stars
The shadows
look onto the light with envy
knowing they cannot co-exist
feel hopeless
lost
sedentary
singular
Hated.
poem by Jon Trahan
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Effects of what Others Do
Don't you dislike those implications?
I know I use to.
Especially the ones made,
By those who owe their lives to you.
The ones who have lied to others...
Who now have everything surfacing,
To have people see them...
As the fools I knew.
Those are the ones who like to take credit,
For things they did not do.
And today they want to prove themselves,
By overcompensating their judgements passed.
Only to find themselves,
Trapped by lies and deceit believed...
Buried in their past.
To now see what they've done now being trashed.
And not by me!
By that reflection they see.
'What goes around comes around.'
My mother use to say.
And, 'God don't like ugly, boy.
So you don't be that way.
He knows what's going on.
You'll see that one day.'
And as I've aged and matured,
I see the effects left by what others do.
With the attempt made to ruin lives of others.
And I know if they could have their druthers,
They would wish their feelings now felt inside...
Would not cling to linger as truths they can not deny.
'There is a reason WHY for everything.'
And I...
Use to dislike those implications made.
But I must say today I realize as I empathize...
Those I had despised,
Ruined their own lives not mine.
I'm not the one sitting with wishes,
I had lived a more righteous life.
I am happy living the life God to me has given!
With a conscious free and glad I had listened.
And did not rush to revenge those judgements.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Coincidental
If I had not been there,
For several people...
They would have had different lives.
I know this!
And they...
Well,
Just prefer not to acknowledge it.
Instead...
They would like to classify my involvement,
In their lives...
As coincidental.
IF...
They are not,
In selective memory mode.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lives Isolated and Divided
Is anything ever stolen...
One's own property?
To declare and sell...
In a written exchange,
Documented and agreed.
Does someone already sitting,
On land when others come.
Have a say at all to what happens...
When visitors make a home,
And overstay their welcome.
Can one group say which rights belong to them?
With an exclusiveness...
To pick, choose and dismiss.
And use lies and deceit,
To change the history of it!
How is authority given...
To those who claim they are great?
When time is spent in defaming slander...
To berate those they historically hate!
And why do they say they dislike Europeans?
When they are all descendents of them.
Isn't their religious leader...
Beloved and lives in the Vatican?
Perhaps they wish to keep their 'divisions' blissed.
With distorted visions...
That a deluded diversed people,
Can live their lives divided and in isolation...
And actually thrive in an existence like this.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Happy
Dont got a pretty girl who loves me alot
Dont got a fast car that looks real hot
Dont got a fine pad or stereo
And I dont do well in the school where I go, go, go, go, go
But Im happy, happy
Im happy though the world is upside down
Im happy that we all made it through another day
When I pick up the phone I still remember what to say
Im happy that my brain still lives inside my head
Most of all I think Im happy
Happy that I aint dead
I read the paper, I saw the news
All those people out there singin the blues
They get excited, why dont they just relax
All we got to do is kick back, back, back
And be happy, happy
Happy though the whole world is ready to blow
Im happy that I made it through another day
When I pick up the phone I still remember what to say
Im happy that my brain still lives inside my head
Most of all I think Im happy
Happy that I aint dead
I know a guy with plenty of loot
Youd never catch him in a two dollar suit
Hes got gold chains, plenty of rings
He told me money, it dont mean a thing, dont mean a thing
If you aint happy, happy
Happy though the whole world is upside down
Be happy that you made it through another day
When you pick up the phone you still remember what to say
Be happy that your brain still lives inside your head
Most of all I think Im happy.....
Im happy
Im happy though the whole thing is ready to blow
Be happy that the sun has rised up again
That somewhere in this world I still got a friend
Be happy that the big one, it hasnt dropped yet
Be happy that you still got something
Something, something to forget
Im happy
(Im happy, so happy)
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Suffering From Head Wounds
Those told what to do most of their lives,
What to think, how to think...
What not to believe or listen to.
And who is stupid,
Because of their physical appearances...
Are those who are most traumatized,
By the sign of these rapidly changing times.
Not all...
But most people have been conditioned to believe,
That the unchanged color of a house...
Also determines what goes on inside.
No matter how many renovations have taken place.
Or evolving maturities of the people living in it.
All people will do is to talk about what they 'knew'.
Or what they've been told.
And...
Most of the time what is known,
Had been heard from one's now grown children...
Or a pet dog or cat,
Programmed to be reliable.
But not from the horse's mouth!
People rather beat their horses to death,
Repeatedly.
Those told most of their lives,
What to think, how to think...
What not to believe or listen to.
And who is stupid,
Because of their physical appearances...
Are those who are most traumatized,
By the sign of the times.
Without being medicated,
Few people are sure if and when they should...
Take a left or right turn,
Why and for what purpose.
And if they should or should not ignore,
Signs that warn them to yield and pay attention...
With caution!
People have been taught to believe and do as they please,
Because...
Well,
They are entitled to do so for the rest of their lives.
'Medic...
There's another one over here suffering from head wounds.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Find It Hard To Say
[Lauryn Hill Talking]
...I've written it about the whole Amadou Diallo situation...
...It was such a hot time in the city at that point, I was afraid that if I
put the record out, people would Misunderstand what I meant by "Rebel" and
they just take it to the streets...
[One and only verse]
Ok, yeah, alright...
I find it hard to say, that everything is alright
Don't look at me that way, like everything is alright
Cuz my own eyes can see, through all your false pretenses
But what you fail to see, is all the consequences
You think our lives are cheap, and easy to be wasted
As history repeats, so foul you can taste it
And while the people sleep, too comfortable to face it
His life so incomplete, and nothing can replace it
And while the people sleep, too comfortable to face it
Your lives so incomplete, and nothing can replace it
Fret not thyself I say, against these laws of man
Cuz like the Bible says, His blood is on their hands
And what I gotta say, and what I gotta say, is rebel
While today is still today, choose well
And what I gotta say, is rebel, it can't go down this way
Choose well, choose well, choose well...
...choose well, choose well, choose well
And while the people sleep, too comfortable to face it
Your lives are so incomplete, and nothing, and no one, can replace it
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no
And what I gotta say, and what I gotta say
And what I gotta say, and what I gotta say
And what I gotta say, and what I gotta say
And what I gotta say, and what I gotta say
Is rebel... rebel, rebel, rebel, rebel, rebel, rebel
Rebel, rebel, rebel, rebel, rebel
Repent, the day is far too spent, rebel... rebel!
Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up...
Wake up and rebel
We must destroy in order to rebuild
Wake up, you might as well
Oh are you... oh are you satisfied
Oh are you satisfied
Rebel... ohhh rebel
Why don't you rebel, why don't you rebel?
Why don't you rebel?
I'm fading myself down now...
song performed by by Lauryn Hill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Easier to Be Selective
Doesn't it seem easier to be selective,
When one's life has been materialistically blissed?
Easy it comes to pass judgements on others,
As if one has a purpose to do it!
Doesn't it seem easier when one has money,
To do with as one pleases?
To make demands and have them met.
And show disrespect without regret.
Doesn't it appear easier to live life without needs,
Or wants.
To purchase and/or throw away...
And maybe choose some people to taunt!
Doesn't it seem as if those people do what they desire?
Doesn't it seem as if it was just yesterday...
Those same people today,
Have been expose to be the biggest thieves.
Deceitful evil liars.
And now the ones on their knees...
Pleading,
To be forgiven for a world in dire straits.
One in which they participated to diminish...
A quality of life that has no escapes.
With conscious deeds to destroy humanity!
And this has evidence they wish not to admit.
Even 'if' they choose to charade and dismiss...
A degrading of their masquerades.
Much too obvious today...
For anyone not to witness it, .
To deny it does not exist!
With wishes the creation of these conflicts...
Would disappear and go away.
For a return of a selected chosen bliss...
Once loved when it betrayed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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