Duned By The Winds of Euphoria
Saying what is on my mind...
You wanted.
It is there and was made clear.
An honesty sits within me.
Not to leave fragmented.
It is as it appears.
It is a need I feed.
But this truth I share...
Your ears are not prepared,
To hear or bother to listen.
A distance keeps you detached,
And unaware to grasp with attention.
You want to select my conversation...
Although an implication still misses connotation.
A removal of an exposure you fear might reveal,
Something you skip to be left hidden.
Perhaps a fact you wish kept concealed?
But that is not my purpose.
I dare to be me and free.
My mind is not tied to myths of fantasy....
And that is what you endear from me to see.
That my eyes become plagued...
Moistured and fogged,
By your miraging scenes.
Daydreamed...
And tossed about like a beach ball,
As we sit duned by the winds of euphoria...
And brought to life to live and breathe.
You wish less of my depth.
Yet expect to communicate...
What you dictate will keep you safe.
And I am not about that at all.
I value understanding with blemishes and flaws.
But you rather keep a comprehension stalled.
Playing games like that,
Does not attract.
Or keep me attentive with that as an incentive.
When below surfaces I wish to scratch...
Until an itch is satisfied,
And relayed undenied and given right back!
That is what I want.
I do not desire to be teased.
I have needs to fulfill.
Not to avoid what may ill,
To provide a comfort as you please.
How can that be created...
When you prefer to dodge reality!
And a beginning unconnected,
Is not a relationship to be for me!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Life Is To Live and Be Exposed to It
No one enjoys playing hide and seek,
Better than those who have stayed hidden...
To perfect the game.
There, wherever in their minds believing...
Their attention is sought.
There, wherever in their minds perceiving...
They can not get caught.
Or be seen...
In a foolish stagnation.
Lacking both growth and appeal.
With a purpose long gone,
That has killed their dreams.
No one enjoys playing hide and seek,
Better than those who have stayed hidden...
To perfect the game.
Protecting themselves in situations.
And stuck permanently to a stubbornness,
Defiantly making unchanged emotional claims.
In confessions of being misunderstood.
To anyone prescribing stabilizing medications.
'You are a doctor aren't you? '
*Yes,
I am a veterinarian, why? *
'My dog has an itch.
And it is unable to stop the scratch.'
Their goal and aim is to win!
But what?
Once a tiredness like this has been shown...
People like this witness themselves giving up.
Life is to live and be exposed to it.
Those who wish to be kept distanced,
Eventually get their wish.
To scratch and itch in private.
And around the clock if so desired.
Those with peace of mind don't hide.
Or participate in games with others...
Who keep their delusions denied!
But suggest that to those who don't grow.
They are the ones expressed comments made,
Such as, 'I told you so.'
Offend.
As if still children.
And many of them appearing to be grown adults,
Are...
Still children.
Traumatized by the clarity of reality in their hiding.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Itch, Itch, Itch
should it not annoy me
what comes from single addition sound
itch, itch, itch
scratching my finger point
my heart is like free market
my brain is like full garbage
itch, itch, itch
there's worm army in my back
I get itch in my leg
itch, itch, itch
it's an itch in my mouth
I have sharpen my nail
I want to jump and scream
can I come to scratch you into pieces
the hands that touch me impolitely
the blunt mind that speaks empty
itch, itch, itch
you are just itch for me
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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The Pricelessness of It
I came to provide you,
A safe haven to share.
But you didn't see it.
Your ego sought attention,
To be pleased by those...
Who chose you for their affairs.
So much of what you wanted,
Was there for me to give.
But you were looking for imitations.
Something not to build or create.
Something already there...
With a temporary pleasing,
To feed with impression.
And pretentions to spare.
I came to provide you,
A safe haven to share.
For just you and me,
To succeed anywhere.
But you had no respect for that.
What I brought to give you could not see.
And now that I've exposed what you could not believe,
You assess what you've obtained...
As a value diminished.
In times you seek something treasured to keep.
But that which is purchased for eyes to impress,
Often rusts to turn to dust...
After much rubbing and touching.
To amplify one's unhappiness,
With a yearning in endless searching.
To change ever so much.
I came to provide you,
A safe haven to share.
But the pricelessness of it,
Could not sit or fit...
Within your limits.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Is You Not I Who Is Blind
I only see what I need to see,
That's why I don't feel fear,
The only thing I worry about is me,
I hear what I want to hear.
I speak only when I am spoken to,
You won't hear me express an opinion,
You will not see me do what others do,
I don't mind being classed as a minion.
I do what I want not what others dictate,
That keeps my mind in good stead,
This way I have only myself to placate.
Which means I can keep a clear head.
If there is trouble to be found,
I always look the opposite way,
I'll make sure I never stick around,
You won't see me if there's any affray.
Anything untoward I always avoid,
I'll make sure I was never there,
Evidence in my mind will be destroyed,
As for hassle I don't really care.
If I make a mistake no one will know,
It's a secret I will always hide,
You may well say my behaviour is low,
Whereas I'd say your attitude is snide.
Nobody to nag me into submission,
Everything I do is my choice,
No relationships creating nuclear fission,
I only need listen to my own voice.
Marriage and children I just don't need,
I hear you say that's selfish and cruel,
Being on my own there's only one mouth to feed,
While my wallet and bank account are full.
I have no worries about getting divorced,
Nor dragging a family through court,
While I live in peace it's you who'll be forced,
To leave home and pay child support.
I've never cared what others thought,
It's saved me from a whole load of strife,
This feeling of peace just can't be bought,
I am living a wonderful life.
I've never suffered any problems or woe,
With others I prefer not to mingle,
I've told you this story to let you all know,
There's merit in remaining single.
You may well say I've took the cowards way out,
But that never enters my mind,
My attitude to life leaves me in no doubt,
‘' It Is You Not I Who Is Blind ‘'
Multiple Choice
If people say they are willing,
To speak to those prepared to listen...
Why do they make it difficult,
For the ones who have made it clear...
They are there and available,
To give them undivided attention.
Whose ears are they seeking to select from to hear?
And what is it do they wish to say,
To anyone familiar with truth?
Is it more time they need to recreate what is real,
With hopes to appeal...
To those wishing to pass a multiple choice test?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If you dare
Although I’m fond of poetry.I find
the modern free form style lacks appeal for me.
I prefer disciplined formality
because I think it clarifies my mind
I chose my words, so my thoughts are well defined.
I cannot claim impartiality
nor dare I quote any authority.
All poetry I think should be designed
to serve some purpose which is clear to see.
Some train of thought the poet wishes to share.
Something he has seen in reality
or high flown fantasy beyond compare.
This is the art of writing poetry
To prove that you can do it, you must dare.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Itch and Scratch
You’re just like an itch
that keeps coming back.
Every time I itch
I have to scratch, scratch, scratch.
Just like a train
on a railroad track
You go away today
and tomorrow come back.
Try taking an aeroplane
instead of a car,
then hop on a rocket
to a distant star.
You’re just like an itch
that keeps coming back.
Every time I itch
I have to scratch, scratch, scratch.
And just like an itch
you’ve got under my skin,
this is a situation
that I just can’t win.
Please give me a break
and get off my back.
Get out of here
and don’t come back.
You’re just like an itch
that keeps coming back.
Every time I itch
I have to scratch, scratch, scratch.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Swirling to Hurl
Life...
Brings with it,
Mystery and miseries.
Some live entire lives,
In the state of denial and disbelief.
Confronting challenges,
With despair and grief.
Life...
Also is the wind.
Beginning gently...
And sometimes swirling to hurl,
Devastation until it ends.
And it does!
To reveal much change before our eyes.
Under the promise of Sun and clear skies.
Rising hope with faith connected.
Life...
Is a dance and song sung heard.
A step in the wrong direction...
Off the beat.
Off the mark.
Off of the rhythm that was there,
When a flair to feel free began!
None can play life safe.
None can detect to avoid what comes next in life.
When life starts the experience one has with it...
It will flow.
Just like the different winds upon us,
Life blows.
No lullabys come to soothe...
Those denying the naturalness of this rhythm,
One living life pursues.
No shoulder comes to quiet,
Those with constant fears.
No one seems to listen closely with attention.
Those with fears held dear.
Collectors of heartbreaks to keep as souvenirs.
This is not the life to like!
Or pretend..
Tears falling do not come from a sadness felt!
A sadness wished to end.
None can play life safe.
None can detect to avoid what comes next in life.
When life starts the experience one has with it...
It will flow.
Just like the different winds upon us,
Life blows.
Life...
Brings with it,
Mystery and miseries.
Some live entire lives,
In the state of denial and disbelief.
Confronting challenges,
With despair and grief.
When all things that life brings...
Breezing like the winds that do not stay.
And just as life is the experience lived.
We are the experiment,
That never stops evolving.
None can play life safe.
None can detect to avoid what comes next in life.
When life starts the experience one has with it...
It will flow.
Just like the different winds upon us,
Life blows.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Something More Than This
With man's endeavours however great or small
there's an underlying meaning behind them all.
What appears sometimes to be useless not making much sense
is very often the start of one's labour and cost of some expense.
Everything has some value depending on what it's used for
and regardless of what it is, there's potential in it to be sure.
Man's mind is a great instrument which no one can deny
a vast storehouse of many ideas into which he does pry.
Some people seem to have the knack of accomplishing their ends
which is usually after the exerting of much effort one comprehends.
Analysing the steps to be taken in the direction they need to go
taking one step at a time brings the goal closer to them you know.
Overcoming their own inertia is one of the main obstacles faced along the way
and by visualising in their mind's eye a picture of the goal is all they have to pay.
Learning by experience is the most rewarding and the best course to take
with the skilful loving help of a true teacher much progress one can make.
Possessing the ears by which to listen and the eyes by which to see
and holding onto that ideal set before them realise what they can be.
There is something else more than this which is there all the time
it's only after we clear our minds of that which is gathered grime
we'll see that which is really there as the integral part of our being,
everything else is a hindrance until we realise the truth in daily living.
And then everything is made plain enough for each one's eyes to behold
becoming as if new again regardless of what it does appear as or how old.
It is somewhat like another rebirth within the same body and mind
that have both been revitalised and given a new lease of life in kind.
The secret of life is the truth, hidden within our being of our existence
and is the reality behind all this we have created for our subsistence.
So everything has come forth from us, out of our being we've brought all this
yet the greatest treasure still lies deep within, the source and essence of bliss.
poem by George Krokos
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That Is Not An Offer
How can you say,
With 'me' you have been direct?
I find you too convoluted.
Too introspective.
Too self involved with issues,
You have protected.
And you wish me to be the one you select...
To find you irresistible?
As if I'm seeking someone...
With looks and no depth?
Those days for me have long 'petered out'.
I use to have a pet!
But today I'll settle for all the peace of mind I can get.
And chasing behind mysteries...
I'd rather leave alone to be drama free.
Do you see how clear my eyes are?
You will not find them clouded with doubt!
Or vacantly awaiting for an occupation,
Of your BS planted to upset.
That will be a bet made you lose.
You will not find strategic steps of your 'mess'
Accepted here to endear to leave confusion.
And that is not an offer.
That is a conclusion.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When Two Just Do Not Agree
We have different definitions of integrity.
You and I.
I prefer to nip things in the bud...
With eyes that are cleared.
Freed of cloudy assumptions and innuendos.
Since those I do not endear.
In fact,
I bother not to go near them.
They lead to bogus beginnings.
And I can't feed my mind,
On situations intertwined...
Reeking with falsities.
We have different definitions of integrity.
You and I.
With a seeing from a point of view that is eye to eye.
And that is an impossibility to do when two just do not agree.
On how to objectively induce the origin of truth,
To produce the enhancement of productivity.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hidden Wishes
Hidden wishes are not the best ones,
To keep secret.
Not when two are sharing space,
In a relationship as mates.
And seen before sleeping,
With eyes opened wide...
To awaken to bare blemishes,
On a daily naked basis to rub against...
A touching of hips, legs and thighs.
If lies become treasured...
And from one,
Another hides.
When mates that close become distrusting,
Whether or not legal vows had been exchanged.
A presence of love can be said was never there.
Or a devotion known between them shown.
What depth of caring is done if no one is aware.
When two are sharing space,
On a daily basis in a relationship as mates...
Hidden wishes are not the best to keep,
Between two left unconnected.
And separately discreet.
But meeting each other to heat under sheets,
With a keeping of hidden wishes secret.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Games Being Played Today
The games being played today,
Are are old as those used...
By the kid who refuses,
Others to play ball in the schoolyard.
IF he doesn't get his way.
And as those stand by to watch one confident,
And prepared to hit homeruns...
The one who has let others use his equipment,
Will take all of it away and threaten to run...
To ensure even his own team will be defeated.
If his way isn't eventually pleased.
'What are you doing?
Are you nuts? '
~That's my ball and that's my bat.
And if you all had realized that...
I'd be the one to be the focus of your praise.~
'But why should we all suffer,
Because you want 'him' seen the one defeated?
We all came out here to play ball...together.'
~But does he have to brag about what he can do? ~
'We all have done that.
And you have done that before too!
But the others kids who are here to see us play,
Could care less who equipment is used.
To delay or stop the game we came to play.'
~But I am the one who wants to be seen as the winner.
Not him.~
'Your misdeed is perceived as unfortunate.
Since your actions have left no one interested.'
~I don't care.
You all hate me because my family is rich.
Well...
We did pay our taxes!
And I know it.~
'What?
What on Earth are your talking about, Skip? '
~I know what's been said behind my back.
I'm not the one here who is stupid.~
'Prove it.'
~What is the reality of 'our' relationship? ~
'Skip...
You are making absolutely no sense.'
~Prove it.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Supreme's Approval
You have refused to accept,
The message being delivered!
And those who have made attempts to deliver it...
As well.
You showed contempt and resented them.
But they did not compose,
What you need to know in the message that shows...
A clear fear that attacks!
An absent mind that lacks remorse.
A thoughless heart with no concern.
An ignorance that burns those who learn!
A shallow understanding of the 'home' one has not earned!
And a self righteousness that has created a madness...
You have bestowed upon yourself in denial,
That trashes the lives of others!
In a stubborness that resist the appearance,
Of honesty and truth!
You want options?
With 'Reflections' of those times,
Hoping 'Someday We'll Be Together'
In some prefrabricated glimmer and glitz...
Glistening with glitter in some existing bliss!
Hmmmm...?
There will be no trial or jury!
There will just be your removal...
Yes, your removal!
In ways that meet with The Supreme's approval!
And Diana, Flo and Mary...
Will have nothing to do with what's ahead for you!
There will be no Motown requests where you're going!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Either Now...Or Later!
You are correct.
I could not agree with you more.
I have not been in touch with you.
Nor have I bother to call,
In a few months.
You have a song and dance routine,
I've seen and heard consistently unchanged...
For years.
Your ears remain closed to suggestions,
I propose.
And you say my life lived is delusional.
Since I choose to be uplifted and positive.
I find it incredible that someone like you,
Who quotes from scriptures.
And speaks in tongues with such fortitude...
That God would not listen with the utmost attention!
And your life would then have less,
Of a negative judgemental attitude...
Needing you to address.
Unless God and what I have to you to mention,
Isn't returning to you what your ears wish to hear.
The messages sent to you are ignored.
And your understanding of God,
Is a comprehension for you that isn't near.
However...
One thing I know is absolutely certain!
I am not as nearly as patient as God.
I have yet to be gifted with that kind of time to waste.
Or chase you in games of hide and seek,
While you take notes as to which quotes to provoke.
You are correct.
I could not agree with you more.
I have not been in touch with you.
Nor have I bother to call,
In a few months.
And right now a dialtone given to you,
From the bottom of my giving heart...
Is the only 'thing' I can see useful to you I can offer.
At least in my generous giving of it to you...
You can choose to quickly call someone else?
Either now...or later.
Or elect to sit...
In your own undisturbed quietness!
To you I hope a peace of mind comes.
Either now...
To appreciate.
Or later...
When only God knows,
Whether of not...
If this has been to your advantage.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Yesterday When I 'Had' Patience
One moment, please.
I think we have a bad connection.
Let me repeat what you just said...
Since I 'know'
I did not hear you clearly.
You expect me,
To tolerate and put up with 'your' nonsense?
To quietly sit and listen to the issues you have,
With your family, their families...
Your neighbors' comments made to you.
And...
My recommendations you dislike.
Because I am not 'sounding' as if I am on your side?
AND when I seek 'your' candid advice...
You find it convenient not to be available,
Because I take up your time?
And you tell me...
I should find less of 'me' in my mind?
Hold up!
I think this connection has crossed the line.
And needs to cease.
If you hear dial tone...
Do not call me back.
From you I am seeking some deep quality peace.
Listen,
Yesterday when I 'had' patience...
And hear this very carefully.
I gave you time and I remember that.
Today I have none!
You have exhausted your free minutes.
And I suggest you kick the cat or 'something'.
But don't bother me.
Find less of 'you' in your mind!
(Click! Conversation over with)
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To a Little Girl That Has Told a Lie
AND has my darling told a lie?
Did she forget that GOD was by?
That GOD, who saw the things she did,
From whom no action can be hid;
Did she forget that GOD could see
And hear, wherever she might be?
He made your eyes, and can discern
Whichever way you think to turn;
He made your ears, and he can hear
When you think nobody is near;
In every place, by night or day,
He watches all you do and say.
Oh, how I wish you would but try
To act, as shall not need a lie;
And when you wish a thing to do,
That has been once forbidden you,
Remember that, nor ever dare
To disobey, for GOD is there.
Why should you fear the truth to tell?
Does falsehood ever do so well?
Can you be satisfied to know,
There's something wrong to hide below?
No! let your fault be what it may,
To own it is the happy way.
So long as you your crime conceal,
You cannot light and gladsome feel:
Your little heart will seem oppress'd,
As if a weight were on your breast;
And e'en your mother's eye to meet,
Will tinge your face with shame and heat.
Yes, GOD has made your duty clear,
By every blush, by every fear;
And conscience, like an angel kind,
Keeps watch to bring it to your mind:
Its friendly warnings ever heed,
And neither tell a lie nor need.
poem by Ann Taylor
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As a Dove I Flew
As a Dove I flew,
Without concern...
That my wings someone had clipped!
It was brought to my attention,
When at rest...
Around others,
Where I would sit to listen.
And with them reminisce.
Someone noticed my flaws.
And I began to forget...
My mission was to love.
And to spread happiness with it!
But I let this blemish,
Take hold and I could not resist.
The fact that I was a 'Dove' first...
With or without wings clipped!
And I sat looking at my flaws and blemishes...
That kept me stifled without movement.
And a burden I placed upon my wings...
I found too heavy!
They felt encased in cement.
And my mind stayed fixed on my appearance,
Ever since.
And my wings I could no longer lift!
'Who are you trying to fool?
Us?
Just because we are pigeons...
Your task is not to try to fit in!
Be a Dove.
Be who you are.
Continue your journey,
And stop telling those stories.
We've heard them before...
When you came to deliver,
That self defeating message...
At our separate doors.
We got it!
That's why we are here all together!
Remember us? '
Well...
Why didn't you say something.
I would not have wasted your time.
I thought you all were struggling in conflict?
My 'bad'!
I'm still eliminating some of that 'processing'.
You know what a bunch of ya'll together implies!
'It's not a waste to us at all.
Every time we hear it,
We share it with those who haven't!
It's motivating.
And extremely convincing.
It's hilarious the second time around.
You should see yourself! '
I suppose you are right!
Afterall,
I am assigned to do Dove 'stuff'.
Trying to do it the best I can!
'If you happen to forget,
And you see us again!
Try to avoid using the 'clipped wing' thing.
It's overboard and too dramatic.
It's funny.
But I think you should want to be taken seriously! '
I do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Delusional
Sometimes the right thing said,
Could be the wrong thing done...
When sharing conversation with someone.
Many are just not ready,
To share depths of truth...
Or explore revelations hidden.
Declaring one's feelings,
Can be a task regretted.
Some are motivated by honesty.
Some are delusional and fear confrontation.
And yet we all pray for answers.
And when they come,
We run away in states of denial...
Putting someone on trial,
For presenting news we refuse to accept.
Since it is not flourished in fantasy!
And that bridge has always been available,
For escape and perhaps to burn.
Running away from truth,
Doesn't make it less potent!
It is always there...
When we are prepared to learn.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sweat and Work Are Involved
Isn't it easy,
To dictate what someone should do...
From the comfort of the sidelines,
Where the peanut gallery sits...
Irresponsible with accountability limited?
And I hear you say,
You'd like more assistance.
With a wish to have it quick.
But those were not your sentiments made,
When you passed your judgement,
On the one you and the others...
Forced to throw up hands to quit.
People seldom realize,
How much is paid for their ignorance.
Isn't it easy,
To dictate what someone should do...
From the comfort of the sidelines,
Where the peanut gallery sits...
Irresponsible with accountability limited?
And now you are complaining,
How no one understands.
But you had no problem accusing the other,
Of not standing tall and taking it like a man.
And he succeeded.
Although this didn't please.
But then...
Again,
The attention was on him.
Wasn't it?
And you thought that was all it took to lead.
Now it is your turn.
And you can not take the pressure of critique.
There is much more to it,
Then just smiling and having an appetite...
The ego wants pleased.
For the one taking the heat,
And being in the brightest of spotlights...
Sweat and work are involved.
And this...
Many people aren't behind the scenes to see.
Very little time is given to the crunching on munchies.
Sweat...
And work,
Are involved!
Together...
Like in any close relationship.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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