Droning On
Some exist to live...
Within a repeated tiredness.
A routine assured to deliver sameness.
And living each day to address the same issues.
As if nothing on Earth is subjected for change.
Some exist to share conversations,
As if lifted from a script...
With very poor direction!
They, of course
Prefer to remain in leading roles.
And the listener is expected,
To react with excited anticipation!
Knowing what is heard...
Again will put them to sleep!
And awakened by a poke,
To joke...
How thought provoking the exchange.
And meditating on a response...
Was what had taken place.
Although a deep nod...
Is written all over one's face!
And that still leaves no hint,
For one who continues to speak.
Even snoring doesn't keep them,
From droning on!
No matter 'if' the nodding 'is' intended!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Ant
A sixty feet long ant
With a hat on its head,
That doesn’t exist, that doesn’t exist.
An ant pulling a cart
Full of penguins and ducks
That doesn’t exist, that doesn’t exist.
An ant speaking French,
Speaking Latin and Javanese,
That doesn’t exist, that doesn’t exist.
Hey! Why not?
poem by Robert Desnos from Storysongs (Chantefables) (1945), translated by Dan Costinaş
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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If The Surface For Them Did Not Exist
If the surface didn't exist,
Many wouldn't have a thought to cling to.
Many wouldn't know,
Which gossip heard was true.
If the surface for them did not exist.
If the surface didn't exist,
The many dependent on having lives not their own...
Would be lost without being told what to do.
Many absolutely would not have a clue...
How to find their way around,
Without following in someone's footsteps.
If the surface they sniffed did not exist.
And if the surface for them did not exist...
They would not be able to sit alone,
Doing something completely on their own...
And appreciating life,
With the minding of their own business.
If...
The surface for many did not exist,
It would be taumatic for them to seek a thought process.
Many would not know where or how to begin.
So many are accustomed to living lives that are shallow.
With an ability only to identify with that...
Which is supplied and arrives to them surfacely.
Even a dog sniffing tries to find a place to bury a bone.
And doing that alone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sameness They Only Embrace
The wealthiest person in the place far from financial renown
And the poorest one is very poor in the poor Country Town
Where everyone knows everyone your business not your own
And even family secrets by everyone else known.
This not a Town for migrants not many migrants live here
The locals do not embrace difference that's how it does appear
But of course there are exceptions though their type in the minority
Who speak out for the fair go in a place of cultural poverty.
Not a place of great commerce and few evolved thinkers live here
In the pubs they talk of work and football between spells of guzzling beer
They feel happy in their sameness it is difference they do fear
Though quite knowledgeable in football and their football heroes they revere.
A small rural Town in the country a few hours drive from anywhere
A place of a small population where many things in common they do share
The people with a fondness for sameness and sameness they only embrace
And if to them you have different interests amongst them you feel out of place.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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2.03 Childhood - Youth - Old Age
The three around the fire sitting,
Gossiping of Life and its doings,
Reached a point thought provoking,
Of their journey and life prevailing. [1]
CHILDHOOD:
“Please do not leave me at this time,
Youth, do take me in your prime,
For I an entertainment will but be,
With playful antics in life’s journey.” [2]
YOUTH:
“No! You can not accompany me,
As struggles exist in my journey,
Your playfulantics will but not be,
In my stride of any necessity.” [3]
When on Youth tiredness grows,
Childhood memories do then glow,
But Old Age with its aged face,
Now stares at Youth in this race. [4]
OLDAGE
“Of no use it be to remember him,
You move ahead now in this game,
Childhood once gone never returns,
Forget Childhood - Love me in turn. [5]
Struggling ahead as you had moved,
Your tiredness now I shall remove,
Come on my lap relaxingly do lie,
And sleep with my pleasant lullabies.” [6]
Thinking of Childhood - its payful taps,
The Youth now lies in Oldage’s lap,
Who caressing with weak trembling hands,
Sings cradle songs of eternal sleep grand. [7]
poem by Munnan Misra
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God Is The Entity
I don't live my life on a discounted escapade.
Every bill delivered to my address...
Has just my name on it.
And they all get paid.
Because I've arrived at an age,
It is expected I get assistance.
And whatever I get I like to think I'm deserving.
Since I've never lived with a selfishness.
And most of my life I've been in service to others.
And to others I have served.
Very few times I've accepted hand outs given to me.
Especially knowing how easy it is for others to speak falsities.
About what they do in quantity...
And neither quantity nor quality from them do I receive.
God is The 'Entity' that has blessed my life tremendously.
Of this I have witnessed with no pretensions to exist.
And those who have come to go out of my life...
From me they knew as one to give,
And any taking was done was in respected appreciation.
I don't live my life on a discounted escapade.
Every bill delivered to my address...
Has just my name on it.
And they all get paid.
And if anyone has ever thought,
My life has been one of a free ride?
Not one of them has a clue,
As to why I strut with pride with my head held high.
It is what I have inside of me that God has allowed.
And about this I am not confused.
In fact...
I may be accused of being 'too' proud!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Time does not exist
time does not exist
we made it up...
imagine you ask someone
for the time and the
reply 'time is a fabrication of
the mind to cope with change.'
you'd think them to
be strange.
but the more you think about it
the more sense it makes.
time does not exist
when you finally comprehend it
everything else becomes a lie,
science will make no sense
history will not be in the past
time does not exist
what else doesn't exist...?
poem by Jeremy Rascon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Then Had Flaws
Did you believe I would slit my wrists.
Because I realize,
A relationship between us did not exist?
I knew when entering it,
Baggage you carried.
And issues with honesty you could not face.
Remember...
I approached you.
Knowing all of that I chose to embrace.
Did you believe I would slit my wrists.
Because I realize,
A relationship between us did not exist?
What made you think I had no consciousness?
And who convinced you,
You were that attractive?
Remember...
I approached you.
Knowing all of that I chose to embrace.
And you then had flaws.
No matter how others,
May today discover none to erased.
You then had flaws.
And I remember all of it.
There will be no splitting of wrists of balling of fists,
Because of you.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Live In World
To live in world as man or woman
You can prove as true human
Who stops you from living as you like?
This idea must remain at heart and strike
Noble people are those who live on with ideals
Their life is simple but in fact very real
They have nothing to hide or make deal
It is always their endeavor to have sympathy and feel
Human race is not what we have made
We need enough of digging with spade
The earth can be made soft and fertile
The garden can boom in its own way with style
We have forgotten the basic values
Humanity is not realized with its dues
If we can’t give good or worthwhile to anyone
We are shame on earth and hence claim none
Not everybody can be assured of lovely life
As everybody is expected to walk on an of knife
It can be made rosy and worth to live
If we adhere to and respect the life of others and believe
If you bow your head with respect
No one may have any kind of grudges to react
You will be given due weight age and recognition
Your word may find right place with consideration
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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?? ???? ?? ???.. She Remains
?? ???? ?? ???.. she remains
?? ???? ?? ??? ???? ???? ??
??? ?? ???? ???? ???? ?????? ?? ???? ??
??? ?? ??? ?? ???? ??? ?? ???? ???????? ???
?? ????? ?? ??? ?? ?? ???? ?? ???? ???
She lives with constant state pf fear
Doesn't speak well as if forced to bear
Nothing abnormal has taken place for her
Yet she is very much tense and continues to bother
???? ???? ?? ?? ???? ?? '???? ???? ?? ??? ??? ??'
'????? ?? ???? ???? ?? ?? ????? ?????? ?? ???'
???? ????? ?? ?? ???? ??? ?? ?? ??? ?? ?? ??
?????? ?? ???? ?? ???? ?? ?? ?????? ?? ?? ?? ??
I teased her by saying "moon has surfaced on earth'
Lovely face is here to play havoc and cause the death
She lost her temper when sarcastically commented
Withdrew suddenly and absented to resent
?? ?? ???? ?? ??? ???? ???? ?? ????????? ???? ????
??????? ??? ????? ?? ???? ?? ???? ???? ????
???? ????? ???? ???? ???? ??????
??? ????? ???? ???? ???? ????? ????
I thought of and resorted to do something
To bring her back in smile by naturally acting
I was not ready to see her in angry mood
Thought to retrieve before it got out of control and misunderstood
???? ?? ???? ????? ? ???? ?? ??? ???? ????
??? ??? ???? ?? ???? ??? ?????? ????
??? ????? ?? ???? ??? ?? ???? ??
?????? ??? ???? ??? ???? ????? ??
I thought of teasing her little more
Rub the salt on wounds and explore
To see how does she suffer from cruel joke?
How she reacts with tearful face under smoke?
????? ???? ? ????? ???? ????? ?? ???? ??
???????? ?? ???? ?? ?? ???? ?? ?????? ???? ??
?? ??? ????? ??? ?? ????? ???? ????? ???? ????? ?????
???? ?? ??? ?? ?? ?? ????? ??? ???? ???? ?????
She is no fool to understand change
Time being let down but not too fool to manage
But it has worsened to such stage that she didn't want to give in so easily
I too firmly decided not to agree that readily
??? ?? ????? ??? ????? ???????? ??? ????? ????
?????? ??? ???? ?? ????? ??? ?? ?????? ??
??? ???? ?? ??????? ?? ???? ??? ??? ?? ???? ??
???? ?? ????? ??? ?? ??? ??? ???? ??????? ?? ???? ?? ??
She realized it soon and accepted
Retrieved the lost position and respected
Smiled gently as if nothing had happened
Moon face lit up and showed as it did not take place even
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Time For Change
Mundane predictability
Dawns on me like the sunrise
There's no unknown within the place
Where I exist
Mechanic like occurrence
Of each days routine
With prosaic efficiency
That steals the dream
If you always do what you've always done
And you always sing what you've always sung
Then you'll always get what you always had
If you always go where you've always been
You'll always see what you've always seen
And you'll always be who you always are
It's time for change, can't live like this no more
It's time for change, can't live like this no more
The insecurity of difference
It threatens my very core
It wraps and binds me up
To the comfort point
song performed by by Quench
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If You Don't Exist
then who will exist
for you?
who will record
who you are and what you
have done?
nobody.
nobody.
nobody
but you.
because just like you they also
think that they don't exist
come to think of it
if all of us do not exist at all
then who exists?
nothing
nothing
nothing
it is simply absurd when the world
moves and no one is
existing
i don't exist too.
because i have learned
to live.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Knockin’ On Heaven’s Book
On heaven’s book
You go knocking
With hope to enter
A merciful piece,
A paradise' place
Which would avoid
All evil’s faces
Settled as a hook.
Such place doesn’t exist
And it will be vain
To knock at any doors,
Thinking that behind,
Heaven and Hell
Can be separated,
Can be isolated.
Such place doesn’t exist.
As long as there is
Night gloom then day light,
Heaven and Hell
Are from the same material.
The two sides
Of one single whole.
Heaven as Hell
Exist only in us even,
Deep in our heart.
The battle settles there,
And nowhere else.
On heaven’s book
You go knocking
With hope to enter
A peaceful land.
and this land does exist.
Its name is
YOUR SOUL
And it’s made
Of the same material
Than Heaven and Hell:
E.T.E.R.....N.I.T.Y
Note: dedicated to Shashendra Amalshan's poem 'The Devil's hook and the Heaven’s book'
poem by Jeffe Ovie
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Bellevue Academy
All the time I am asked...
Where it was that I had been educated?
Before I can part my lips,
I am told I speak like one with intelligence!
Of course immediately I am amused.
And I listen to the list of schools mentioned:
'You live in Connecticut?
Oh, you must have gone to Yale?
Or Wesleyan?
Or UConn?
But then again...
Harvard is close by as well! '
I got my initial training at Bellevue Academy.
Then at Arsenal Prep.
And at Northeast on Westland.
'Reeeeeaaaalllyy?
They must be exclusive!
I have never heard of them.'
They no longer exist!
But yes...
They were quite prestigious.
And I am not the only alumni,
To have been blessed by the teachings...
Or the discipline received.
Unfortunately,
These institutions are gone.
But not the achievements of the people.
They are all over the place...
Dropping just a 'hint' of their greatness!
'Where did this take place again! '
Hartford!
'That's what I thought!
Harvard...right? '
Whatever!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Essentialness
Subjected to the essentialness of things.
There is a mood that dictates,
The essentialness of things.
When the importance of 'it' is given...
And how much of a priority is placed.
But should we wait in debate,
To enhance an effectiveness?
Or chase it with impatience,
If there is a mood that dictates.
Subjected to the essentialness of things.
And when it comes...
It brings its own taste!
A certainty not to go to waste.
And maybe subject to change!
Replacing what has been debated.
Subjected to the essentialness of things.
Like something one has eaten...
Does not meet a later craving,
One had envisioned to devour...
And let satiate without it becoming sour.
Subjected to the essentialness of things.
When discussed in the hour,
Of exchange.
Or at a later date.
Arriving when it does...
And not considered to be late!
To deliver an anticipated freshness.
Subjected to the essentialness of things.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sleeping Soul.
Breaking out of normality.
Bringing forth a new reality.
The rules are being written as we speak.
A table sits before you but does that mean you have the time or money to eat.
Trick or treat, time to face those demons.
All in the mind.
In land with such fertile soil how can that ever be.
It just doesn't make sense to me.
Still they're those who still walk in the cold and lonely streets.
So many promises have been made.
So many promises have been broken.
WAKE UP, WAKE UP!
A soul so dormant.
I poke it with a stick and it still doesn't move.
What will it take for true change?
I remember that day when an angel whispered to me.
It soothed all the anger right out of me.
But it never silenced this heart.
Blood forever pumping as it continues to beat.
To hell with death or defeat.
Yet some day in the same stroke they're both something I'm destined to meet.
But I'm still here.
So till then.
I will abandon nothing.
Friends can be remade.
A damsel in distress can still be saved.
The flow and course of time can even be changed.
It not a game.
Never was to me.
Even though some thought so.
Their is not a day that goes by that I don't question why.
Why all the suffering, the brutality, the ignorance, the hate. the greed.
I listen to my echo, knowing so many questions will never be answered.
Because we've allowed ourselves to become the cancer.
Infecting society with indifference.
Saying to our selves that could never happen to me.
Till your on the bottom you'll never be the one looking up.
Expectations high, disappointments grave.
No easy way out.
Not for me.
Hasn't been for a very long time.
Living a life of barter and trade.
Trying not to become a monetary slave.
What I need should never come that easily.
Convenience is a complication indeed.
Nothing to do is nothing to live for.
Obesity is a sign of this gluttony.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Seele Im Raum
It sat between my husband and my children.
A place was set for it—a plate of greens.
It had been there: I had seen it
But not somehow—but this was like a dream—
Not seen it so that I knew I saw it.
It was as if I could not know I saw it
Because I had never once in all my life
Not seen it. It was an eland.
An eland! That is why the children
Would ask my husband, for a joke, at Christmas:
“Father, is it Donner?” He would say, “No, Blitzen.”
It had been there always. Now we put silver
At its place at meals, fed it the same food
We ourselves ate, and said nothing. Many times
When it breathed heavily (when it had tried
A long useless time to speak) and reached to me
So that I touched it—of a different size
And order of being, like the live hard side
Of a horse’s neck when you pat the horse—
And looked with its great melting tearless eyes
Fringed with a few coarse wire-like lashes
Into my eyes, and whispered to me
So that my eyes turned backward in their sockets
And they said nothing—
many times
I have known, when they said nothing,
That it did not exist. If they had heard
They could not have been silent. And yet they heard;
Heard many times what I have spoken
When it could no longer speak, but only breathe—
When I could no longer speak, but only breathe.
And, after some years, the others came
And took it from me—it was ill, they told me—
And cured it, they wrote me: my whole city
Sent me cards lilac-branches, mourning
As I had mourned—
and I was standing
By a grave in flowers, by dyed rolls of turf,
And a canvas marquee the last brown of earth.
It is over.
It is over so long that I begin to think
That it did not exist, that I have never—
And my son says, one morning, from the paper:
“An eland. Look, an eland!”
—It was so.
Today, in a German dictionary, I saw elend
And the heart in my breast turned over, it was—
It was a word one translates wretched.
It is as if someone remembered saying:
“This is an antimacassar that I grew from seed,”
And this were true.
And, truly,
One could not wish for anything more strange—
For anything more. And yet it wasn’t interesting ...
—It was worse than impossible, it was a joke.
And yet when it was, I was—
Even to think that I once thought
That I could see it to feel the sweat
Like needles at my hair-roots, I am blind
—It was not even a joke, not even a joke.
Yet how can I believe it? Or believe that I
Owned it, a husband, children? Is my voice the voice
Of that skin of being—of what owns, is owned
In honor or dishonor, that is borne and bears—
Or of that raw thing, the being inside it
That has neither a wife, a husband, nor a child
But goes at last as naked from this world
As it was born into it—
And the eland comes and grazes on its grave.
This is senseless?
Shall I make sense or shall I tell the truth?
Choose either—I cannot do both.
I tell myself that. And yet it is not so,
And what I say afterwards will not be so:
To be at all is to be wrong.
Being is being old
And saying, almost comfortably, across a table
From—
from what I don’t know—
in a voice
Rich with a kind of longing satisfaction:
“To own an eland! That’s what I call life!”
poem by Randall Jarrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Get Excited
(tennant/lowe)
--------------
(excited)
(excited)
(excited excited excited excited)
(excited excited excited excited)
(i get excited)
(i get excited)
We're both in the gutter, that's no surprise
What does it matter, when i look in your eyes?
We've lost all our money, we're thrown out of bars
We're lying in the gutter, but we're looking at the stars
I get excited, you get excited too (excited) (i get excited)
I get excited, you get excited too (excited) (i get excited)
I hear the sound of the subway, the sigh of the heat
The click of the visitors' heels on the street
The rattle of the taxi, the scream of the cars
The clatter of the dustbin and the beat of my heart
I get excited, you get excited too (excited) (i get excited)
I get excited, you get excited too (excited) (i get excited)
I don't know why, i don't know why (i get excited)
I don't know why, i don't know why
(excited excited excited excited)
(excited excited excited excited)
You're in my soul
My body moves to your control
Baby, i've been thinking about you
All night long, and the neighbours are talking
I don't know why, i don't know why (excited) (i get excited)
I don't know why, i don't know why
(excited) (i get excited)
We're both in the gutter, that's no surprise
What does it matter, when i look in your eyes?
We've lost all our money, we're thrown out of bars
We're lying in the gutter, but we're looking at the stars
I get excited, you get excited too (excited) (i get excited)
I get excited, you get excited too (excited) (i get excited)
I don't know why, i don't know why (i get excited)
I don't know why, i don't know why
(excited excited excited excited)
(excited excited excited excited)
(ooooooooh)
I get excited, you get excited too (excited) (i get excited)
I get excited, you get excited too (excited) (i get excited)
I don't know why, i don't know why (i get excited)
I don't know why, i don't know why (i get excited)
I get excited, you get excited too
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Can't Make What Doesn't Work
You can't make what doesn't work,
For me exist.
If it is clear to me,
My life's just fine without it.
I want to say that,
You can't make what doesn't work...
For me exist.
When my happiness,
Doesn't depend on it.
I have my own beliefs,
That satisifies my every need.
The memories that I keep,
Reminds me how I stood...
Up on my own two feet.
No you can't make what doesn't work,
For me exist.
If with a faith I took risks,
And decided that my own life I would live.
I have my own beliefs,
That satisifies my every need.
The memories that I keep,
Reminds me how I got to stand up..
On my own two feet.
Oh...
You can't make what doesn't work,
For me exist.
If it is clear to me,
My life's just fine without it.
So, if it doesn't work for you,
Why do you wish to prove...
What it is that I do,
Is a waste of effort.
So, if it doesn't work for you,
Why do you wish to prove...
What it is that I do,
Is to me a disservice.
You can't make what doesn't work,
For me exist.
If it is clear to me,
My life's just fine without it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Going To Be Left To Leave
Wouldn't it be nice,
If we were not enticed by temptations.
And peace wished to exist,
Would not be marketed...
With such a high price to pay for it.
Wouldn't it be nice,
If people lived with values...
Others respected.
And did not discover them to take away.
But left them alone to appreciate.
Wouldn't it be nice,
If those differences God sees fit...
Were actually accepted,
And all who live to witness it...
Would think of themselves as blessed.
Wouldn't it be nice,
If those asleep would awaken with wishes...
To leave behind their selfish ways,
To realize there is only one Earth.
And the Earth comes first.
And no matter who 'has' or believes 'what'...
No one or that which is claimed to possess,
Stays to remain without a transition.
Everything shown is going to be left to leave,
On Earth as it is meant to be.
Right where they are...
The Sun, Moon, Earth and Stars,
Are not in conflict.
If they were...
You and I would not exist,
To make claims of ownership.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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