Doings Done By Neighbors
The cost of false recognition,
Doesn't occur in the minds...
Of those with a ferocious appetite,
To shine.
At the expense of lost integrity.
To say they have none,
Would be grossly understated.
And so below par,
As to shame anyone devoted...
To do their best,
From the depths of a soul that is felt.
And not an empthy vessel pre-occupied,
By the doings done by neighbors...
Who take pride they can respect,
Their own privacy and others...
They do not neglect.
From behind and within their own walls.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
No Matter How Many Apologies Come
A breached integrity is difficult to mend.
Any outreaching extended,
Doesn't heal but offends.
A conscious intention is known for what it is.
No one who says they respect someone,
Will protect themselves...
With a lie that's done.
That's a breach of one's integrity.
No matter how many apologies come.
And for anyone who says that is being sensitive,
Have no respect or integrity to offer.
And surely none there to be known as it is to give.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Two Sorts Of Spiritual People
There are two sorts of spiritual people one false and one true
The former scarcely worth knowing to the latter respect is due
And many false spiritual people as we already know
And their numbers in thousands if not in millions do grow
Wisdom and spirituality they try to claim for their own
But the seeds of their self professed greatness in falseness are sown
Just power hungry people suffering of low self esteem
Not what they want you think they are that's how it does seem
Their need for respect and recognition they do take too far
And yet many of the naive in awe of how marvellous they are
The truly wise and spiritual recognition never do crave
And our respect for such people we only should save
The difference between them like the difference between a plastic and a real rose
But the honourable in minority one would have to suppose.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Classic Are The Reactions
Classic are the reactions,
Of those given advice!
But have a need to attack,
Those they approached...
For advice that is solicited,
Not once but more than twice.
That advice was not taken,
By those now shakened.
And today they are on the scene...
Disliking the circumstances,
Those choices they themselves made...
That embarrasses them,
And publicly demeans.
With only themselves left to blame,
For not taking the advice...
To avoid their outlandish claims.
They now wish to inflict,
An emotional pain...
On those who unselfishly,
To their aid came.
With an escaping of responsibility...
And an accusatory slandering,
Of names to defame.
As they take to the streets,
To shame others in deceiving campaigns!
Hoping that such organized ignorance...
Will smother their insecurities,
With an attention that gains!
Like a child who cries, 'Victim'...
To their own applied lies.
'No empthy for me,
So they must bleed.
No empthy for me,
So they must bleed.
No empthy,
No empthy...
So they must bleed! '
~What is that all about? ~
Just some folks who made decisions,
And hated the outcome of their choices made.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Maybe the Economy Is On Your Mind
I will assist you,
But not at the cost of my own expense.
Why does this sound so familiar?
'Well...
If you don't mind me saying this.
But the last few times,
You just said...
At my own expense!
There was no cost involved.
Maybe the economy is on your mind? '
Is that your idea of a joke?
Your attempt to introduce comedic material,
At 'my' expense?
'Once again...
You changed what you've said.'
Forget it!
Can you hear that?
Petty motherfuhhhh...
'Yes...
I'm still within listening distance! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Respect Poem
_________________________________________
Resp ect your elders all if they deserve;
Respect your servants who will serve;
Respect your father for tilling the soil;
Respect your mother for her love and toil.
Respect all teachers who gave you the knowledge;
respect your parent who will pay for your collage
respect your friend who saved you from the ledge
respect yourself from not going to the edge.
they are so many things we tend to say
giving respect does not come everyday
don't reject, don't regret just correct
but don't forget to bloody respect.
respect it something i like
doesn't matter if your wrong or right
doesn't matter if you black or white
doesn't matter if your rich or poor
doesn't matter what the hell you own
doesn't matter what way were you born.
________________________________________
poem by Dbhker Don
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Walls
Walls of stone and walls of brick,
Some walls thin and some walls thick,
Walls so high and walls so low,
Walls to hide and walls to show.
Walls quite short and walls quite tall,
Some walls, last well, some walls fall,
Walls for comfort, walls of hate,
Walls for security, walls ornate.
Some as a barricade, some to support,
Walls of wood and walls of iron wrought,
Walls as a barrier, walls to enclose,
Some are to sit on, some to lean and doze.
Walls we build ourselves, these aren't good,
Walls for privacy, walls that have stood,
So many years through weather foul or fine,
Walls, that are yours, walls that are mine.
Brick by brick they are built to last,
Whether built now or in the past,
They shelter us from so many things,
And shield us from whatever this life brings.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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May your neighbors respect you, Trouble neglect you, The angels protect you, And heaven accept you.
Protected By A Masquerading Kept
When a people willfully 'and' knowingly,
'Forcefully' allow themselves to deceive.
Others who are unaware of it,
Is clearly a lack of integrity or an honesty felt,
That is not there within the minds of the doers.
And.
This is an act comparable to treason.
How can anyone again give support,
When it becomes revealed.
Someone they had once followed,
And given respect.
Had no respect 'first' to give to themselves!
In retrospect.
And.
To continue a parading of a charaded,
Self righteousness,
Protected by a masquerading kept.
Should offend anyone duped,
By a display of such ego!
Neither regretted or shows an interest in correcting.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Calling GOD (No Answer)
Tired and stressed, my body aches
Bitter and cold from past mistakes
Tears are rolling down my cheek
Our saviour Jesus I long to meet
My mind was content when he was close
But now his distant my minds exposed
Im falling apart and feeling lost
My soul was sold but at no cost
Satan's slave is what ive become
Drugs ease my pain till my brain is numb
My minds being poisoned in a wordly way
Depraved and enticed to weak to pray,
before I lost faith I cherished his every word
Now, Lost in the darkness, I let my sights get blurred
The cost to pay for giving into temptation
I life of sin with no salvation.
poem by Nic Hillen
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Sonnet: Respect
Respect your elders all if they deserve;
Respect your servants too who you well serve;
Respect your father for tilling the soil;
Respect your mother for her love and toil.
Respect all teachers who gave you knowledge;
Respect your friend who saved you from the ledge;
Respect all good minds who advised you good;
Respect the man of God who gave soul’s food.
Respect all strangers who were all Godsends;
Respect your foes who taught you self-defense;
Respect those evil men who you troubled;
Respect the tempter who well you misled.
Respect your conscience which tells you what’s right;
Respect your God who is your Friend and Guide.
poem by John Celes
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Half Mast Flags
What was,
Maybe the 'is' we celebrate.
But the 'now' we live,
Deserves much more attention...
Then we give it!
To decide that a time that leaves...
And greatly taken for granted,
In a quick reflected assessment.
Has less than an impact than it does.
Is a neglect.
Although in ceremonies we respect,
There is a praising of ourselves.
With impressive feelings aroused.
And conducted in a pomp...
We circumspect in a masking of opulence.
And consciously under appreciated,
Are those moments we share...
And currently breathe!
There is a disbelief...
Too commonly discussed.
With a purpose to achieve it.
Displeased about something,
That should pleasure.
But doesn't measure up,
To those high standards...
We have allowed to fall down.
Stays fixed around our daily movements.
And yet expect,
We do...
Those half mast flags to flow,
In honorable breezes that capture imaginations.
As we stand in devoted silence.
With donations of lust in our minds to deliver.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Foolish Pride
There are times, we have what's called,
foolish pride and then there comes a time,
when we should cast it aside! Having too
much pride, can stand in your way and in
many a case, it just doesn't pay! You have
to know, when to say, enough, is enough,
why wait, until it's worse and the going, gets
rough? In some instances, it's okay to have
a little pride, be aware, when it gets out of
control, as too much of anything, can make
you, a lost soul! Don't let pride, stand in your
way, if you want to get someone's attention,
do it, in the proper manor and you won't have
any, intervention. So there you have it, you
know what too much pride, can do, try to
be cognizant, of what is, the best for you!
poem by Audrey Heller
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Cry of a Soul
What passion it was
anger or lust
who knows what
that turned him into a beast.
Stifling her throat, lest she cry
he infringed her modesty.
With her senses numbed
she sank into oblivion.
Like a loath, she lies ever since
vegetative she has been since:
she- who chose
to nurse our wounds and soak our tears
with tender smile and hands of care.
Now like a loath there she lies.
She cannot stand or even stir
neither eat nor even drink,
speechlessly, in space she stares
it's all hollow, nothing is there.
' She is in coma' doctors announce.
' Alive, she is' judges pronounce.
But, let me ponder:
is she alive though not dead.
Benumbed, she is
her senses do not work.
But what of soul,
doesn't it suffer?
Wasn't it hurt when she was raped?
Doesn't it hurt even now,
as her colleagues
under the cloak of sympathy
daily transgress her privacy.
Hush hush talk all around
and looks of pity that abound,
mercilessly they hurt the soul.
'Human right' that we pride
is all sham
a matter of shame!
Soul in her body still resides
in agony it still does cry;
when will it all end?
These Are New Days We Live
Difficult it is,
To maintain a persona...
Of righteousness.
With a squeaky clean integrity.
When one has been revealed to be...
An abuser of truth,
Who tell lies consistently.
Difficult it is,
To use the same tired tactics.
When one has been discovered,
To have been undermining others.
With no shame connected to it!
How can someone like this,
Retrieve a dignity?
Or come face to face...
With those backstabbed and disgraced?
How can anyone replace,
So much time 'wasted'?
Difficult it is,
To maintain a persona...
Of righteousness.
With a squeaky clean integrity.
When one has been revealed to be...
An abuser of truth,
Who tell lies consistently.
And lives a life that secretly deceives.
There is only one alternative,
Someone like this chooses...
When that 'cat-has-been-pulled-out-of-the-bag'!
Although,
The fact of the act of this is quite sad!
And a running away to hide is done.
To protect one's pride...
In familiarized denial!
That's it.
One puts oneself on trial.
To self inflict their own judgements.
That's it!
To run and hide has become their custom.
Too many people like this,
Can be observed as mentally sick!
And too many people like this...
Have gotten away with it.
In the past.
But these are new days we live!
Revelations like these eventually heal.
With no patience left,
To give time to those who slander and kill...
Minds!
At the expense to fulfill their own 'will'.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Perceptions
At what cost,
Did you manage to keep your balloon afloat?
At whose expense,
Is that smile upon your face...
Permanently etched,
Not to show a trace of fear.
At what cost,
Did you manage to keep your balloon afloat?
Who kept the clouds away from your shine?
And...
How is this happening all the time,
When I am certain what you see does not exist.
Who did you listen to that convinced you to do this?
And how high is that balloon you see flying?
At what cost,
Did you manage to keep your balloon afloat?
At whose expense,
Is that smile upon your face...
Permanently etched,
Not to show a trace of fear.
Just how near or far are you,
From my own learned perceptions?
And sometimes confused and conflicted by deception.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Critical Acclaim Unlawful
never written out
published words
for false friends
for shallow minds
what is given written
is for soul seekers
searching out meaning
encoded in set lines
never did
such scribes
seek out
unsolicited
your respect
your understanding
your acceptance
your tolerance
the continual hostility
ferocious viciousness
and rabid condemnation
of your critical review
only proves beyond shadow
of doubt this coded insight
was not conceived written
grasped or understood by you
a legacy of key dedicated words
gifted bequeathed unto posterity
is written for quest soul seekers
on journeys to concepts attained
some words are fine tuned
on receptive wave lengths
sign posting obscure pathways
byways leading to enlightenment
quite divine angels, assisting soul
seekers weary hard burdened, are
pointing fingers at vindictive you;
beware stone of stumbling atomized
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Out Of The Depths: Written After The Reformation Of A Brilliant And Talented Man
Out of the midnight, rayless and cheerless,
Into the morning's golden light;
Out of the clutches of wrong and ruin,
Into the arms of truth and right;
Out of the ways that are ways of sorrow,
Out of the paths that are paths of pain,
Yea, out of the depths has a soul arisen,
And 'one that was lost is found again.'
Lost in the sands of an awful desert,
Lost in the region of imps accursed,
With bones of victims to mark his pathway,
And burning lava to quench his thirst;
Lost in the darkness, astray in the shadows;
Father above, do we pray in vain?
Hark! on the winds come gleeful tidings,
Lo! he was lost, but is found again.
Found! and the sunlight of God's great mercy
Dispels the shadows, and brings the morn.
Found! and the hosts of the dear Redeemer
Are shouting aloud o'er a soul new born,
Plucked, like a brand, from the conflagration,
Cleansed, like a garment, free from stain,
Saved, pray God, for ever and ever;
Lost for a season, but found again.
'Out of the depths' by the grace of heaven,
Out of the depth of woe and shame,
And he blots his name from the roll of drunkards,
To carve it again on the heights of fame.
'Wine is a mocker, and strong drink raging.'
Glory to God, he has snapped the chain
That bound him with fetters of steel and iron,
And he that he was lost is found again.
Down with the cup, though it gleam like rubies;
Down with the glass, though it sparkle and shine,
'It bites like a serpent, and stings like an adder,'
There is woe, and sorrow, and shame in wine.
Keen though the sword be, and deadly its mission,
Three times its number the wine-cup has slain.
God, send thy grace unto those it has fettered-
God, grant the lost may be found again.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Love Song
How can I keep my soul in me, so that
it doesn't touch your soul? How can I raise
it high enough, past you, to other things?
I would like to shelter it, among remote
lost objects, in some dark and silent place
that doesn't resonate when your depths resound.
Yet everything that touches us, me and you,
takes us together like a violin's bow,
which draws *one* voice out of two separate strings.
Upon what instrument are we two spanned?
And what musician holds us in his hand?
Oh sweetest song.
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Farewell Notes... (Part Two)
no more wars! we cannot allow poverty and hunger to continue!
we have to live in a way that celebrates our diversity. we have
to listen to each other. every word we speak or write, has a cost.
whatever we must sacrifice for the truth is well worth the cost.
question, seek, doubt, try all things for their validity in your lives.
respect each other's paths, but walk your own. keep your hands,
hearts, and minds open. take the time to care, get involved.
my heart and soul are with you all... be at peace, nay, be peace!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Gall
At one time I responded freely,
To requests and invitations.
And sometimes gave unsolicited opinions.
I did this until a respect was lost.
With demands that I react...
To feed an expectation,
At the expense of my cost!
Who are these folks?
Who believe they can demand,
From one their time.
And showing no regard for them at all.
Who are these folks...
With this kind of gall?
I choose not to be around those who stink,
With conceit like that!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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