Disturbed We Are Not Called By Appropriate Names
If we do eventually call one another comrades...
Would we then become communistic socialists?
Or would we remain the social fools,
We prefer.
And disturbed we are not called by appropriate names.
With a more political correctness accepted.
Even though the environment has long been changed.
And the name calling we choose to keep the same,
To defame in disgust.
In a more truer definition of us.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What Is It They Don't Understand?
Why haven't they boarded the lifeboats?
~They first wish to discuss,
Political correctness and social etiquette.
And what 'is' or isn't poetic.~
AND...
They 'are' aware of the ship sinking?
~They first wish to discuss,
Political correctness and social etiquette.
And what 'is' or isn't poetic.~
What is it they don't understand?
~They first wish to discuss,
Political correctness and social etiquette.
And what 'is' or isn't poetic.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the matter of the maintenance and rearing of children the Anarchists would neither institute the communistic nursery which the State Socialists favor nor keep the communistic school system which now prevails.
quote by Benjamin Tucker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Juvenile Offenders Act
The Juvenile Offenders Act gives soft-on-crime judges an out,
While the names of young criminals don’t get published throughout,
The statisticians do surveys that say everything is fine,
And it doesn’t matter who got off with a whole bunch of crime.
The people don’t have referendums nor required to vote,
And young criminals know they can get away with it and gloat,
The height of political correctness with lawyers by the score,
Nodding and waving as the criminals walk out the courtroom door.
Are we the only people in the world with these stupid laws?
As the judges, the lawyers and the pink socialists applause,
Where can we find a politician that really means what he says?
How do we go about getting binding referendums these days?
poem by James Bredin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Impoverished Existance of Political Correctness
Political correctness
Is not definitive, by in or an outward of any projections
It but mere reflection of the times
What is right now
What guarantee of certainty for tomorrow
So these words in their impoverished existence
Could mean something
Or Could mean nothing
It's all an inheritance of chance
Gamblers know this game all to well
Another loss is the debt that must be paid
So when you speak of political correctness, express its possibilities of change.
With properties that can be rearranged.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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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
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Slime Crawlers
Obsessed with correctness,
And images sublime to define themselves.
Yet their quality of life is beset by decadence.
Although they would prefer to be discreet...
Any secrets revealed are quickly thrown to the streets.
And received well by the gossipers!
Embellishing what they hear...
As if given sweetened treats.
'Ssshhh...
Come here.
You will not believe what I heard...'
While those obsessed with correctness...
Are known to deliver their pretensions,
Complete with a squeaky clean image...
And intellectually delivered speech.
Some are teachers.
Politicians.
Lawyers, doctors, preachers...
Close family members, acquaintances
Associates and close friends.
But often those obsessed with correctness...
Are the first to beg forgiveness,
From hidden sins they've enjoyed...
Once they have been detected!
However...
Not voluntarily professed,
Of course!
These slime crawlers,
Prefer to masquerade their temptations.
Afraid to expose their attraction for gutters...
And low life visited,
With agendas that are uniquely scheduled.
When not tampered or caught off guard.
Eventually to reform with authored books...
Explanations, talk show appearances.
And God's mercy for years spent,
In selfish deception.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Call me what you want
Call me what you want,
You can push me around,
Make fun of me,
Call me names,
All your doing is calling yourself your own family names,
I am the mirror you are the bee,
Whatever you say or do it reflects off of me,
So you can go ahead call me names do whatever makes you happy,
Cause in the end all your doing is hurting yourself cause are nothing but a bully that has a low-life and have nothing better to do but make fun of people.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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Vast Improvement
She told me to stop calling her a bitch,
So I did.
It was clear I shouldn't.
She told me to stop calling her a lazy cow!
So I did.
I couldn't any longer!
She told me to stop calling her a pig.
So I did.
So much of that was hidden.
But I was not ready to stop calling her a slut!
And she knew this.
She accepted she could expect some compliments...
But making such vast improvement in a short period of time,
Overwhelmed the both of us!
She has come a long way,
From being just a common whore!
And I adored her struggles even more.
Eventually she proved to me...
She could be a better dog than I!
And, somehow, I was proud about that!
Since we agreed to monitor our achievements.
Now...
Neither one of us look the parts we conveyed!
And that has made our relationship unique.
No one now can tell we were victims of the streets!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tis Breath, Then...
tis breath, then...
wrought with infinite longing,
that called light from darkness,
and being from non-being.
that, spent as wind,
calling forth waves from oceans,
calling forth land from water,
blowing dry and forming.
tis breath, then...
calling male and female to join.
calling trees and mountains to tangle.
defining hill and valley,
both far and near.
calling forth fire from imagination,
calling thought from inertness.
calling music from stillness.
tis breath, then...
calling tribe unto tribe.
creating gods from reflection.
calling souls from dead bones,
naming names, defining eternity,
calling forth desire, hunger, and wonder.
calling forth construction and ambition...
calling forth ego!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Black or White - Political Correctness
Black, black is beautiful
All colours are meaningful
But Obama is not black, he is mixed race
Think about it; absorb this at your own pace
I'm weighing the two
Like I always do
In all fairness, in this world of madness
This is what I call 'Political Correctness'
Obama is not black but mixed race
Take a look at the color of his face
He is light skinned, not even dark
But they chose to call him black
I'm weighing the two
Like I always do
With a white mother and a father that is black
The ignorant masses prefer to refer to you as black!
Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Stay the same
As time has changed and seasons have past
We've developed a bond that will forever last.
As we say good-bye in this our final year
We try to hold back those overpowering tears.
We remember those time that seem so long ago
As we grew up together through highs and lows.
We knew this day would eventually be here
But had no idea of its overwhelming fear.
The years have flown by but the memories remain
These faces and names will always stay the same.
So as you go out into this world unknown
Always remember there's no place like home.
poem by Katie Evans
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Teddy Bears
Up to the age of four years old
Edmund was called ‘Little Ted’,
but the day after his fifth birthday
he was called something else instead.
For his birthday he was bought a teddy bear
and of course that night he took it to bed.
The very next morning he told his mummy
the bear was to be called ‘Little Ted’.
Two ‘Little Ted’s’ would be confusing, said mum
so you ought to change your name.
Because you’re bigger we’ll call you ‘Big Ted’
and then your names won’t be the same.
‘Big Ted’ and ‘Little Ted’ became great friends,
and went everywhere together,
upstairs and downstairs, indoors and out,
and in all kinds of weather.
One day ‘Big Ted’ and his mother went shopping,
and he saw an even bigger teddy bear.
He whispered to his mother, “Don’t you think
‘Little Ted’ is looking worse for wear? ”
She knew what he was getting at and said,
“You can’t replace ‘Little Ted’ just because he’s worn, ”
and he said, “I don’t want to replace ‘Little Ted’,
but another teddy would help to keep him warm.”
“By what name would it be known? ” she asked.
“Well, it’s only right that he should be ‘Big Ted’,
and then everyone will call me Edmund,
which is what I prefer to be called instead.”
poem by Orlando Belo
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I’m Divine
You yelled at me
and called me names,
that’s o.k. I’m still the same,
See I haven’t changed.
for I am divine,
and ageless through
the end of time.
So call me names till
your blue in the face,
I will have left
this planet
a better place,
and you might
be filled with disgrace.
Written on April 10,2011 by Christina Sunrise
poem by Christina Sunrise
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We Laugh At Their Independence
We only do what we believe is expected from others.
Many do.
And the few who choose to carve their own paths,
Most laugh at their independence...
With a mocking of them too!
Some do.
Until they prove there are those amongst us,
Who are truer fools as if addicted to the showing of it.
And those who have done this,
Seldom seem to have learned a thing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If The Truth Is My Due
I would prefer praise to criticism any day
But for as long as people their truth to me do say
And with lies not defame me in any way
I will 'cop it sweet' with me 'twill be okay
Yet some people even whilst speaking the truth
By their words alone do seem lacking in ruth
Even the truth spoken crudely can leave a mental sting
The great power of words can be a hurtful thing
Yet the truth is the truth and can never defame
It is with your own actions that you sully your name
Due to jealousy or a sense of revenge some with their words are cruel
And with their words to character ruin light the fuel
I will accept the truth if the truth is my due
For as long as you say of me of me what's true.
poem by Francis Duggan
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From Unclean and Putrid Ends
In deep shit!
And denying the depth
Or which asses created it,
Does not alter the smell!
Or how long this stench will stink!
When begun...
It was neither the time
Or place
To take a dump!
But those who have been spoonfed crap
All their lives,
Surround themselves with those who too are familiar
With squatting down and thrusting disgust,
Whenever and wherever they please!
That is the disease they find excuses to spread!
Nothing has really changed!
The unbelievable odor,
Once accepted as a passing fume...
Is now being detected as an addicting gas,
From unclean and putrid ends.
Excrementing in mutual agreement!
And creating an atmosphere of sheer pain.
For those who remain quietly unbelieving...
This is what they chose!
Hoping
With crossed fingers,
They were going to receive a lifetime of roses!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Devoted and Truer Fools
Those who 'use' to be the ones,
Depicted as fools.
With a diminishing done,
To any influence they might have had...
Have not been the fools,
Many were led to believe.
With a choice to ruin their integrity!
It seems those fools,
Had always worn tailored made suits.
And deceived with fake impressions.
Diluting those minds without a conscious.
And it seems as though,
Those who have followed the ones...
Impressing with dress and promises,
Have been made devoted and truer fools.
And today they know this.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Man Gave Names To All The Animals
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal that liked to growl,
Big furry paws and he liked to howl,
Great big furry back and furry hair.
Ah, think Ill call it a bear.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal up on a hill
Chewing up so much grass until she was filled.
He saw milk comin out but he didnt know how.
Ah, think Ill call it a cow.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal that liked to snort,
Horns on his head and they werent too short.
It looked like there wasnt nothin that he couldnt pull.
Ah, think Ill call it a bull.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal leavin a muddy trail,
Real dirty face and a curly tail.
He wasnt too small and he wasnt too big.
Ah, think Ill call it a pig.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
Next animal that he did meet
Had wool on his back and hooves on his feet,
Eating grass on a mountainside so steep.
Ah, think Ill call it a sheep.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal as smooth as glass
Slithering his way through the grass.
Saw him disappear by a tree near a lake . . .
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Those Dissenting Make No Sense
Those dissenting make no sense.
They wish to keep things as they are.
In a backward movement...
That breeds a continuum,
Of a falsely fed decadence.
Anyone who speaks of change,
They wish to proclaim as insane.
And defame their names.
With a wish of blissful ignorance...
To remain for them without shame.
Those dissenting make no sense.
They choose to debate with conflicting arguments!
To keep themselves quite demented,
And quite dense.
And attack they will,
To fulfill their aims.
Ensuring no one becomes enlightened.
Ensuring no higher consciousness,
For them is gained!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Divine existence
We can’t deny divine existence
There should not be wrong notion or insistence
It is for us to know real value and its place
Hough there is fast life with mad race
We have polluted thoughts and environment
Every action of our speak of adverse comment
We have left no room for slight adjustment
Only selfish motives behind every movement
You are strong individual and remain continuous
You can prefer to act role that can be called dubious
Yet the reality may remain as it is for time to come
We have to adjust accordingly and welcome
You should not try to see the hollowness of sky
Your mind should not be perturbed and ask why
The stars may twinkle and moon may appear without fail
You should set priority, set target and avail
You can’t disregard sweeping change
Even person tend to become fragile with age
The environment too may witness gradual transformation
We must analyze and respect the relation
Kings have disappeared and despots have taken over
Public is tired of and now finding shelter or cover
This may also find disappearance in phased manner
The change has to come later or sooner
You can remain mere spectator
The gradual change is simple indicator
You got to live with changing world
As you are supreme with your soul which is not yet sold
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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