Dropped Jeans
No men popped for them.
Not those raised to lay in playpens.
Hot topics of 'where' the men could be?
Seems to be an ongoing mystery...
To those accepting disbelief.
As if this has been buried in backyards,
And vaulted in concrete!
Instead of glaring in their faces,
Uncovered by dropped jeans.
Exposing aging butts!
Why they haven't given that up?
Why can't they see the desperate need,
For changing?
Could it be...
No one wants to touch the butts?
Or mention a clean hygiene!
Perhaps fresh thoughts of reality...
Would be a touchy subject,
That would to them demean!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Under The Table
Bring on the hot topics,
Afraid by others to mention or touch.
Bring on those subjects,
That disturb the ones...
Sitting on their self righteous butts.
People of a certain 'standard',
Seldom openly discuss...
Appalling and unappealing matters,
That are for them below their upturned noses.
Although they may 'pocket' royalities...
From that which in public,
They will claim disgusts!
Bring on the hot topics,
Afraid by others to mention or touch.
Bring on those subjects,
That disturb the ones...
Sitting on their self righteous butts.
From places directed...
To get a piece of their under the table taking,
Of the giving of 'cuts' they love so much.
'Did you see and hear what I heard?
I can't BELIEVE what is being tolerated these days.
Such filth.
Excuse me...
Do you mind telling the waiter,
We will have another round of caviar and champagne.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thanks!
Thanks for the farts
And thanks for the butts
Thanks for the sharts
And thanks for the nuts
When our lips kiss
Or our butts touch
It reminds me of Bugs Bunny
Or maybe Daffy Duck
Cuz, man, are they funny
You know what I mean
When you fall over laughing
Scene after scene
It's kind of like you
When I see your dumb face
I'll take you to school
Put you in your place
Regardless of My Needs
Babysitting emotions,
Of those of aging rusty butts...
Does not set well with my adult outlook.
Since I know what it takes,
To pave the path I make.
No one has held my hand,
To prevent mistakes I took like a man.
And I can not stomach those who fake,
Heartbreak because of situations they create.
Or try to diminish their disasters done to others...
As nothing more than an oversighted blemish.
And hear them make attempts,
To run from their misdeeds like wimps!
I'm not living my life to run and hide.
Nor will I take the time to listen to others' sigh!
The strides I've taken...
I took as I cried.
Perhaps that is why,
Babysitting emotions,
Of those of aging rusty butts...
I deny.
And will not satisfy those weaknesses,
I put aside.
When I realize I alone,
Must comfort the healing of my own sorrows!
No one else but me condones!
Yesterday, even now and tomorrow.
Afterall...
I am a man.
And a man is 'suppose' to withstand,
Any stinging pain!
Inflicted with sealed lips.
At least that's what I'm told,
As I conceal my agonies!
With an expectation...
That others can dump theirs upon me just the same!
Regardless of my needs!
Or if I bleed.
My wounds I must contain!
And pretend my feelings have not been changed!
It is all insane.
But if I expose the pain I hold...
I must endure the shame!
That's why I make no announcements to maintain,
Or claim...
My manhood!
As I interpret it to be.
And given to me to explore!
Babysitting emotions,
Of those of aging rusty butts...
I ignore.
Dedicated:
To those of us who are expected to 'understand'
without an ounce of 'that' expressed to us!
We must realize there is a 'blessing' involved.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hoodwinked To Be Used
Divisions and indecisions,
Blatant and admitted.
Does not heal with a mending wished,
By those who claim they represent...
The best reflection of a people's interests.
Aging routines used to demean and defeat,
Only leaves a taste of bitterness...
With a craving for more it,
Obviously seen.
And that which cracks and falls apart,
Has proven to be cost effective...
For those making their quick dashes,
With hopes to lay the blame on those...
To exit fast from trash they've left exposed.
Aging routines used to demean and defeat,
Only leaves a taste of bitterness...
With a craving for more it,
Obviously seen...
On faces expected to clean up these scenes.
Unbelieving they've been hoodwinked to be used.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Touchy!
(morten harket/mags/pal waaktaar)
Donna found us in her slow and dreamy way
I cant hear a word the waiter says
Shes looking older than the colour of her hair
She walks into the room too pleased to find me there
Me Im touchy
Touchy you
Me Im touchy
And you know what to do
Me Im touchy
Touchy, touchy you
Me Im touchy and you know what to do
Both of us together in a room by ourselves
I sneeze to look around, byt theres no escape
What can I do, what can I say
Shes waiting for this moment to explain itself.
Me Im touchy
Touchy you
Me Im touchy
And you know what to do
Me Im touchy
Touchy, touchy you
Touching love is the best I can do
Hey, this time youve gone too far
You know how touchy we are
Donna found me in her slow and dreamy way
Now she reads me what the paper say
The way she laughs and what I do
Im waiting for this moment to explain itself through
Me Im touchy...etc.
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some players you pat their butts, some players you kick their butts, some players you leave alone.
Did She Mention My Name
Its so nice to meet an old friend and pass the time of day
And talk about the home town a million miles away
Is the ice still on the river, are the old folks still the same
And by the way, did she mention my name
Did she mention my name just in passing
And when the morning came, do you remember if she dropped a name or two
Is the home team still on fire, do they still win all the games
And by the way, did she mention my name
Is the landlord still a loser, do his signs hang in the hall
Are the young girls still as pretty in the city in the fall
Does the laughter on their faces still put the sun to shame
And by the way, did she mention my name
Did she mention my name just in passing
And when the talk ran high, did the look in her eye seem far away
Is the old roof still leaking when the late snow turns to rain
And by the way, did she mention my name
Did she mention my name just in passing
And looking at the rain, do you remember if she dropped a name or two
Wont you say hello from someone, theyll be no need to explain
And by the way, did she mention my name
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grief
Grief, when fresh, is clearest
when buried, hard to see
but come the wind and rain to clean
uncovered, grief is free
poem by Poet Dragon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who Is Going To Interrupt Ongoing Debates
I think it is 'cool' to awaken,
With a desire to participate...
In activities to make effective changes.
Especially the ones,
That have come to stare boldly in faces!
However,
To anticipate those changes...
Long in desperate need to have been made,
To occur overnight...
When it has taken decades to place,
A detrimental stubbornness in accepting sight!
Is going to take a talented magician,
To hypnotize everyone with a convincing done...
That what has been tolerated,
Has from all minds been erased.
I think it is 'cool' to awaken,
With a desire to participate...
In activities to make effective changes.
Especially the ones,
That have come to stare boldly in faces!
But...
Who is going to interrupt ongoing debates,
To tell those running in political races...
Their topics prioritized to discuss,
Have for decades been outdated.
Who amongst those not affected by the 'craze',
Has the reseources to gather or the patience to raise?
Who already has not made attempts,
To prevent...
The sliding downhill of standards once valued,
Into the welcoming arms of decadence.
And 'who' is left,
To have the credibility to be believed?
That will not be depicted as a freak of weak leadership?
Or regarded as a 'socialist' amongst those who are 'socialites'!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sound Effects And Overdramatics
When the shirt came off, it was all in time
When a m-m-m-minute turned into a mile
And then I broke that grin, and I cut it out
And you got all turned on by the taste of your sin
When I mention blue, all you thought was color
When you mention drugs, all I thought was sober
When your pants came off and I turned you over
When you mention blue
Kill! Smile! Cut it out for me this time!
Smile, haven't seen him smile in a while
Keep the mask aligned
Get it up in time
There's a space between valleys
and try and catch a vibe
Make a circle square, a rectangle curve
Use a smile as a noun and I think like a verb
Run quick switch sides
Spill the filled up canister
And the room is shaking
Now you're changing places,
and I switched my pace,
and my breathing races when you mention blue
Kill! Smile! Cut it out for me this time!
Smile, haven't seen him smile in a while
Kill! Smile! Cut it out for me this time! (This is not [x6])
Smile, haven't seen him smile in a while
Kill, smile, cut out for me cut it cut it out
Smile, cut cut it out for me cut it cut it out
We cut it out!
Kill! Smile! Cut it out for me this time!
Smile, haven't seen him smile in a while
Kill! Smile! Cut it out for me this time! (This is not [x6])
Smile, haven't seen him smile in a while
Get down and stay awake
Smile
song performed by by Used
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sup?
'The usual stuff.
I see the same folks stuck.
Draggin' their butts from rut to rut.
Complaining about their bad luck...
While others do their best,
To pull themselves up.'
I see you struttin'.
Doesn't seem like you much troubled,
'Bout too much or nuthin'!
'I see it and I don't.
Aint got time for misery.
And I'm not 'bout to get on my knees...
Just to see somebody pleased,
I can do it.
I don' been through that mess.
You 'member I was distressed,
And express that to you.
As you pretended to listen to me confess,
From my point of view.
'Sup with you? '
The usual stuff.
I see the same folks stuck.
Draggin' their butts from rut to rut.
Complaining about their bad luck...
While others do their best,
To pull themselves up.
'I see.
Looks like you and me,
Got lots in common? '
Yep!
Which goes to show...
Even though we think 'we' different from the others,
We haven't moved too far...
From where they are.
'Yeah!
But don't it feel good to know sumthin'
'Bout movin' on?
Even if it is going 'round in circles? '
I guess!
They are there and we are here.
But it looks like they've got a better way,
Of avoiding paying more taxes.
And I 'use' to think the gov'ment was helping them out?
'Naw man,
That's how them folks got there in the first place!
How many liars and thieves you know,
Live like this? '
Well...
'None!
Where you goin'?
To that job fair? '
Might as well.
Seems to be the routine.
Either I'm over qualified...
Or I've got bad credit!
And when I 'was' qualified...
I stayed in a rut!
That's wassup!
'Stayin' in that rut, huh? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chained by Language
We live in concrete boxes with ceiling and walls
Sometimes, Deco sometimes Roccoco
With minds trapped in bony skulls
Chained by language, stuttering thoughts of the soul
We live in darkness lit up by glaring,
And electricity to illuminate and reflect and reflect
We hear the tiny echoes of voices and thoughts,
Bouncing up and down bumping back and forth
Conjugating, communicating, copulating, fornicating
Metaphors allegories everything and anything to cloud identity
We live close and next to, only in rare moments souls touch
Then, Slip back to concrete boxes with ceilings and walls
poem by Shimon Weinroth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Careful. You're In the Library!
All this talk about who ain't did what!
And who was suppose to do that,
And do it without getting fat,
On wide spreading butts.
All this talk about who ain't did what!
Ain't said 'sssssshhhh...'
'Careful.
You're in the library! '
I'm trying to keep my voice down,
But you all have too much information...
Researched that I've found.
And it makes me pissed and angry.
How can you keep calm?
You should be angry too!
And far more alarmed.
All this talk about who ain't did what!
And who was suppose to do that,
And do it without getting fat,
On wide spreading butts.
All this talk about who ain't did what!
Ain't said 'sssssshhhh...'
'Careful.
You're in the library! '
Is this whisper good enough for you.
See how my teeth grit.
As I move my lips?
See how I make my eyes enlarge?
See how I...
'Careful.
You're in the library!
And when you are inside here...
I am in charge.
Ssssshhh.
Or get out!
And...
Don't think of taking those books,
Before you check them.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give It to Them Their Way
Give it to them.
Their way.
Let them have it.
Their way.
Keep your mouth shut.
Let them get hit,
By the approaching truck.
And if they survive...
Don't even offer to help them get up,
Off their butts!
Your kindness was given once before.
Remember then,
When you were ignored?
Remember when you were first at their aid?
And you were surprised they gave to you 'shade'?
Remember when you gave your last dollar from your pocket?
And when you needed them...
You never heard from them again?
And now they appear to ask what you think!
About a situation,
That has them on the edge.
Sitting on the brink!
Give it to them.
Their way.
Let them have it.
Their way.
Keep your mouth shut.
Let them get hit,
By the approaching truck.
And if they survive...
Don't even offer to help them get up,
Off their butts!
Your kindness was given once before.
Remember then,
When you were ignored?
And there is no need...
For you to be used,
Or abused...
As they please!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Play Me For a Fool You May
Play me for a fool you may.
To inflict a public stumbling fall.
I am not that weak to sit still and weep!
Or complain that my knees
Scrap from a toilful crawl.
Slander, backstab, defame with games.
Laugh if you must if this is your aim.
Make sure my friends and family see me shamed.
But I've learned to get up,
From any ditch trenched by those gutless...
Satisfied to whine on their shiftless butts!
Play me for a fool you may.
Tell others who demean,
I am wallowing in dismay!
During my struggles seen...
I may be in complete disarray.
But one day you will see,
Me erect and standing tall.
As conflict upon conflict...
Comes to visit you afterall.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The War Game
I am buried by time,
I am buried by love;
Like life from Herat in Afghanistan.
I am buried by the heat,
I am buried by the cold,
I am buried by the wings of nature!
Like life from Herat in Afghanistan.
Keep talking it,
Keep saying it,
Keep doing it,
Keep walking it,
Keep dancing it,
Keep swinging it,
Keep climbing it,
Keep trying it,
Keep asking it,
Keep working it,
Keep moving it,
Keep flying it,
Keep acting it,
All in the time frame to be buried;
Like the War Game in Afghanistan.
Buried under the nature of things,
With bombs exploding from left and right;
Like a message from Herat in Afghanistan.
The War Game,
All in a time frame to be buried;
Keep rolling it,
Keep changing it,
Keep trading it,
Keep building it,
Keep covering it,
Keep painting it,
Keep writing it,
Keep blocking it,
Keep cookin it,
Keep posting it,
Keep accepting it,
Keep driving it,
Keep bombing it,
Keep squeezing it,
Like the war game in Afghanistan.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stop, Choosing to Demean
You've got your meaning,
And still you are choosing to demean...
My love?
Ya gotcha meaning,
But-cha choosing to demean.
Ya gotcha meaning,
But-cha choosing to demean.
Ya gotcha meaning,
But-cha choosing to demean.
Baby!
I gotcha meaning that demeans,
What I say.
And why it is I feel this way.
You're choosing to demean,
How I pray.
For us...
With faith and love,
Everyday!
Baby!
You're choosing to demean.
I see,
You're choosing to demean.
My compassion,
You're choosing to demean.
And..
My strong beliefs.
Yo, Baby!
You're choosing to demean.
I see,
You're choosing to demean.
My compassion,
You're choosing to demean.
And..
My love for you so deep.
But, you choose to be so mean.
And baby...
Stop, choosing to demean.
Baby!
Stop, choosing to demean.
Yo' baby!
Stop, choosing to demean.
Yo' baby!
Stop, choosing to demean.
Yo' baby,
You mated!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crusty Butts
Get up you crusty butts!
Those who enjoy aging,
And have given a youthful glow up!
Lift up your arms and slowly spin from left to right!
In the beginning you will get dizzy...
So don't get uptight!
Or feel that you are nutts!
Even though others might!
Build up a tolerance until you begin to spin!
Stop and sit.
Put your head between your legs...
Let that blood flow!
And repeat this once again!
You will feel a strength,
Until you can then stand on your head!
Do this as often as you can...
And give all other remedies to the garbage man!
One day you'll dash pass...
Those who are among the walking dead!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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These Days
Too jaded to raise an eyebrow now.
Suffering seen once provoked empathy...
Is as frequently exposed as bare butts on the streets!
Little boys in grown up skin,
Exposing their underwear as a 'chic' new trend!
Women with mouths like sailors on 'leave'...
Cussing directions to children,
While passersby look pleased!
Policemen busting addicts with drugs...
Either use them themselves,
Or sell them to thugs!
And an honest politician,
Is as rare as unpolluted air.
Some say these days are the last we live!
But I think those are just excuses made...
By those who insist life lived should be done negative!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Knowing What Truth Is
I believe in a truth that has been honestly spoken.
And with the undertaking of my own research,
My mind is not subject to change from the facts.
No matter how painful.
Or who deceives with dishonest attacks.
What others accept,
Every time someone they follow reverses their steps...
With a breath that exchanges as the wind drifts,
I simply can not accept them knowing what truth is at all.
Especially those who will save their lieing butts from being exposed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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