Element of the Task
The need for them to see and do...
To correct what should have been done,
Has passed.
Greed was the agenda that fed and lasted.
And allowed to feed this sickness with,
The aid of loans and rich taste.
Quickly supplied to those who qualified...
For the issuing of good credit.
Raising the noses of those who lived off plastic.
That's how drastic this need became,
To gobble them and their selfish whims.
And now little of it is bearly there for them to sniff a whiff!
As every leader representing them knew...
The ticking of the clock hid a bombshell about to drop!
Is Bin Laden a part of this deception too!
A creation schemed by the flawed minds of a few?
The need for them to see and do...
To correct what should have been done,
Has passed.
Is this yet another strategic,
Element of the task?
Too many in the White House laugh.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Politically Correct
If you sing out Baa Baa Blacksheep,
It will have a terrible effect,
Who tells us that this song is bad,
The Politically Correct.
Enter our country illegally,
Then show us no respect,
Will we send you straight back, no,
It's not,
Politically Correct.
We're told not to smack our children,
As their minds it will affect,
That is why they run amok,
Thanks,
The Politically Correct.
If you have a criminal mind,
Then join a violent sect,
We won't hold this against you,
We're,
Politically Correct.
If you break in to a house or bank,
Your booty to collect,
We'll put you up if you get caught,
That's,
Politically Correct.
If you're addicted to illegal drugs,
We'll rush in to protect,
We'll say you are a poor wee soul, why?
It's,
Politically Correct.
You can take cocaine and smoke your hash,
Illegal drugs you can inject,
We're not allowed to stop you because,
It's not,
Politically Correct.
If you say Shhhh! Black or White,
Then I'm afraid you can expect,
To be told you're out of order by,
The Politically Correct.
How dare you celebrate Christmas,
That's a time we must all reject,
All Christians are now redundant,
Who says?
The Politically Correct.
We must now rewrite our history,
Our past must now be checked,
We cannot say we won the war,
It's not,
Politically Correct.
Politicians the world over,
Have their fiddles go unchecked,
Why? Because they make the rules,
They're,
The Politically Correct.
Terrorists murder ever day,
On our system this does reflect,
Are we allowed to hang them, no,
We must be,
Politically Correct.
If we try to deport these murdering scum,
We're told we must not neglect,
The fact we're placing them in danger,
That's not,
Politically Correct.
If we hurt their feelings and make them cry,
We must forget those lives they wrecked,
Try to be understanding,
It's,
Politically Correct.
We spend millions on interpreters,
But we're not allowed to object,
We can't force them to speak our dialogue,
Say,
The Politically Correct.
The government now want to seek me out,
I know now that I must defect,
For what I've put in writing's not,
‘' Politically Correct''
In Civil Disobedience!
The majority of them have lived their lives,
In an isolated racist bubble.
Now that their comfort has been marked by troubles...
They seek a bailout from their mindless gains.
With wishes their selfishness did not exist.
Or had not been obvious to others,
Who had witnessed this!
While a greed was fed to exploit those in need.
Those who now seem much better off.
Since they have less blood to bleed...
Than those who lived totally on their good credit.
And loans the economy...
Can no longer assist them in their leeching to feed.
And their misdeeds and deceit...
Now chases them in fear!
With no escape from this beast!
While they swarm the streets...
In civil disobedience!
Treating them with a taste of defeat!
Completely out of their minds...
Come the times for those of selfishness!
Protesting that their interests,
Has left them in duress!
With no fingers to point.
As they are kept close to their own chests!
In attempts to keep themselves...
From losing their precious breath!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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More Eyes Are Opened Wide
They wish to blame their failures,
On someone that isn't there yet.
Someone who isn't officially their leader.
Someone who respects,
The one who led them and created their mess.
And yet this new leader,
Is expected to correct this!
He is one who is highly respected.
But a crisis that affects their lives...
Had been their before his brilliance,
Was long suspected!
And that leader who diminished,
Their quality of life...
They followed and allowed him,
To destroy their values.
As it is observed and reflected.
And the new leader,
Although black...
Is expected to restore their dignity.
And quickly clean up their filthy dirty tracts.
As has been historically accustomed.
But these times more eyes are opened wide.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Descendents of Their Founding Fathers
It all has been there!
From the very beginning of its plotting.
Ingredients used?
A perception of kindness.
When introduced,
For purposes to reduce a 'selected' opponent.
Thus starting the art of deception.
Use this to exclaim a reason to fear approaches.
It all has been there from the 'arrival'.
Rivals quickly became the feast,
Upon which to feed ignorance.
Manifest ignorance and market its value.
Lay a tax upon its importance.
Dangle loans and credit...
With teased dreams to keeping the reaching,
Never ending!
Blind folks with their own self centeredness.
Steal from them their integrity...
While their eyes are glazed with greed.
Then take their pride and everything they have.
This tactic had worked splendidly with those of 'color'.
But who knew...
These deceptive techniques would work so well,
On their own kind!
Did anyone in the laboratory not realize the affects of this?
It seems that when gluttony reaches its peak...
Those infected,
Then acquire a taste for cannibalism.
The urban areas have been out of control for years.
However,
The mystery of this...
Those who claim to be descendents of their founding fathers,
Are the ones who have become highly addicted...
To the smell of their own blood!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Grandfather Clock
The old Tudor house was half-timbered and gaunt,
Was gloomy and dim in the hall,
And time had stood still, since my father was born,
In the clock that had stood by the wall.
Its pendulum hung, never making a sound
I'd never so much heard it chime,
But then, on the day that my Dad passed away,
Its tick had begun to keep time.
My mother was dead and my father was gone,
The half-timbered house passed to me,
I wandered its passages, sad and distraught,
As lonely as one man could be!
I'd sit in the lounge and I'd read by a lamp
With the rest of the house cloaked in gloom,
And heard the dread tick of that grandfather clock
As it echoed in time through the room!
Each tick was a portent, the passing of life,
Each tock brought me nearer to death,
I'd listen for noises, the timber that creaked,
Sit terrified, holding my breath!
The warm summer showers pit-pattered the thatch,
The wind would sough-sough at the eaves,
And summer passed quickly to autumn that year
In a thick golden carpet of leaves.
I never once wound up that grandfather clock,
I waited for it to wind down,
But like a tap dripping, it never would stop
I felt I was starting to drown.
I found in the library's masses of books
An ancient collection of tomes,
And one that was covered in leather, I looked,
And read, and I wished that I'd known!
Sir Richard FitzWalter had lived in that house,
And he it was, ordered the clock,
He'd fought against Cromwell for Charlie the First
‘Til Charles lost his head on the block!
He'd fled to the country, was caught in the house,
And hanged on the tree by the gate,
His wife, Lady Mary, had begged for his life
But the Roundheads had jeered: ‘You're too late! '
She left them, went sobbing back into the hall
And she clung to the grandfather clock,
But just as her husband, his heart ceased to beat,
She heard that the ticking had stopped.
That clock never ran for the rest of her life,
But showed just a quarter to four,
The time that Sir Richard was pinioned and hung
At the gate, on the tree by his door.
The clock began ticking when Mary had died,
Had taken her grief to the grave,
And each generation it stopped or began
When the master was born, or was saved!
I knew then the clock had been ticking for me
And I wanted it never to stop,
I'd wake in the night and I'd tremble to hear
If my heart was still pounding, or not.
Then one winter's night I was restless, and rose
From my sleep, and walked down to the hall,
A Cavalier soldier stood facing the clock,
Adjusting the pendulum pawl;
Resetting the weights on that grandfather clock
So my heart would continue to beat,
From that time to this, I have lived here content
While Sir Richard returns as I sleep.
6 August,2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Delighted, Delirious! 22.09.09
The house is in good taste except
next to my bed, a water hyacinth
and white flowers, a riot of pink
a little doll, glittering fairy
wings in a purple hue
Books and pictures of fairies
stuffed animals, sea-shells on
a string, a shiny butterfly, purple
beads, no-one can take my kitsch
away
No-one can criticise my taste in
my room, I am rich when I look
at my treasures, as precious as
beautiful thoughts, my production
sheet was correct
For the first time ever - I am
so glad, so delighted
so delirious!
poem by Margaret Alice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Thoughtless Are We
Easily God is with us to please.
Caring that our needs are met.
With those dreams wished delivered...
To get and quickly forget,
How to us they came.
Like the rain does not replenish.
Or nourishes to sustain.
Easily God is there to forgive,
Those who maintain a faith.
Although allowing all,
To run into walls and make mistakes.
God understands this!
God knows what is in His or Her power,
To create.
For purposes to celebrate.
Hoping to correct,
Our reasons to hate.
But we seem so unconscious,
Of this miracle of life we have.
So thoughtless are we,
We actually believe...
God is a figment of our fantasies.
We seem so unconscious,
Of Mother Nature and of Earth.
As if 'scientists' made the Moon, Stars and Sun.
And they've proclaimed our lives the center of it.
As if our lives here on Earth...
Are the only ones lived,
In this 'massive' Universe.
Where needs to feed,
Understandings with a thirst.
With some isolated to debate their fates.
Wanting to be,
The only ones who are chosen to be 'first'.
Not only are our minds blinded...
But our eyes deceive,
Just to tease these selfish greeds.
Easily God is with us to please.
Caring that our needs are met.
With those dreams wished delivered...
To get and quickly forget,
How to us they came.
Like the rain does not replenish.
Or nourishes to sustain.
Easily God is there to forgive,
Those who maintain a faith.
But make mistakes.
God understands this!
God knows what is in His or Her power,
To create.
God gives.
And only from us God can take!
So much.
And yet...
Surprise us with much more.
If we accept and appreciate,
Why we are here.
And 'WHO' and 'WHAT' IT is,
Our lives are lived here for!
'Place no other gods before ME!
That's ALL I ask!
How difficult 'is' that task? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Does Not Measure Up
They leave themselves penniless.
And thieve on allowed greed.
Bankrupt themselves on bad loans and credit.
And have fed themselves into a diseasing gluttony.
Their decadence is marketed.
Sleazy sex aids and other remedies...
Are given prime time,
On national TV.
Disrespect is expected.
Discipline is,
Not what it use to be.
Today no one knows how to spell the word.
Or know what the word today should mean.
Some believe it means drinking diet coke at a feast.
And those who perfer pepsi,
Gouge themselves but claim to eat little meat.
Trying to convince themselves,
Not others.
Who clear the sidewalks,
As they wobble up and down public streets.
And they gather to meet,
To discuss their displeasure...
Of a new leader elected.
Who does not measure up to their expectations.
Nor does he they claim...
Have interest in protecting their messes.
Or their dwindling treasures.
'And the agenda is...? '
~I'll give you a clue.
You are not a priority.
Does that answer satisfy you? ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Entwined In Concepts
Both of their minds were entwined in concepts of relationships.
Wanting their own to be one that was perfect.
And defining that with having good credit.
With things believed that would keep them in bliss.
And when these 'things' began to lose their sheen...
Less interest in themselves slowly could be seen.
The need to constantly be together became a non-necessity.
With a wish to be alone in one's own space.
In a place the other was either invited...
Or not invited to be.
And a love between them,
Although expressed...
Was missed.
Leaving dreams and desires,
To be held and kissed...
Becoming less obsessive.
And often dismissed.
As those things cherished gathered dust with time.
There was an emptiness felt!
And invited.
Under one roof where no happiness once there,
For them.
No longer, for them, they could find!
Yet and regretfully...
Both of their minds were entwined in concepts of relationships.
Wanting their own, they did, to be one that was perfect.
And defining that with having good credit.
Loans and debts could not keep this correct.
With things believed that would keep them in bliss.
Gone was 'that' and any remnants of happiness.
And when their credit became less than good.
They found themselves in arguments...
Blaming the other for a wasted life spent.
And agreeing to split is what they should do,
To prove this less the expensive.
With a being together for them now making less sense.
As they express to others,
They've done the best they could.
But a love to make better wasn't theirs to save.
Nor was it there from the beginning!
And this had been the costly mistake they made!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whatever It Takes To Participate
Fed to greed.
That's it.
Not to solicit with a consciousness,
To correct with a higher learning...
A resolving of any conflicts that today exists!
Fed to self indulge.
Spend and waste.
Whatever it takes,
To participate.
And the later time gets,
To correct what misfits...
Minds will find they are addicted,
To whatever it is that keeps them unfit.
Fed to greed.
That's it.
Not to solicit with a consciousness,
To correct with a higher learning...
A resolving of any conflicts that today exists!
And the later time gets,
To correct what misfits...
Minds will find they are addicted,
To whatever it is that keeps them unfit.
Fed to self indulge.
Spend and waste.
Whatever it takes,
To participate.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Anything To Please The 'Little Guy
The agenda to enhance incompetence grows.
So angry are those spoiled,
They seem to be in overdrive to expose...
The least qualified among them,
To represent their needs.
So foolish are their decisions made.
Anything but reality...
Is what they aim to feed and please.
Today a mockery of intelligence,
Sits opposed by those inexperienced.
And money to support these tumbleweeds...
Is increasingly coming from the ones elite!
The agenda to enhance incompetence grows.
So angry are those spoiled,
They seem to be in overdrive to expose...
The least qualified among them,
To represent their needs.
And so foolish are their decisions made.
Anything but reality...
Is what they aim to feed and please.
'Would you slice my 'Rye'
Before the caviar is placed.
And would you be sure the use of fine china...
Is presented as plated,
With white wine to taste.'
~Sorry to disappoint.
In 'this' shelter...
You get one cot, a blanket,
And a bowl of soup.~
'May I inquire if any of it,
Is 'organic'? '
~You betcha.
Anything to please the 'little guy'!
We are only here,
To inflict and represent 'your' needs.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Expected Acceptance
Refinancing dreams, illusions and schemes,
To keep delusions afloat...
Has cost them their visions of luxury,
To visit them with traumatic truths!
Existing to thrive on good credit and loans...
Is slowing ripping apart an economy that groans.
With no ending to the moans heard,
From those still faithful of a resurgence.
And a return of self-servance.
Lifelines are frayed!
Are wearing on the nerves of those afraid.
A monoply of fear is losing its fan base.
Its use to produce a threatened standard of life...
Begins to tatter the stars and stripes,
With the reality of corrupted treason...
Seasoned by deceit.
And exposed as common news,
On gossiped streets.
Refinancing dreams, illusions and schemes,
To keep delusions afloat...
Has cost them their visions of luxury,
To visit them with traumatic truths!
And pursued are the doers...
Found attempting to patch the cracks,
Upon their own established foundations.
With promises of changes to correct!
Effective changes,
For a system crumbling from selfishness...
And neglect!
Molded to bleed and fed on myths...
How can this be done?
Who will implement them?
Since such devastation,
Has already begun...
In the minds of everyone!
Who will implement them?
Or recognize them when they do come,
To be defined for those...
Born to feed a greed state of mind!
How can one be led away...
From what has been known all this time.
And lived to be worshipped,
In a conformed restricting consciousness.
Who will implement this...
Expected acceptance!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Upon the Table of Fulfilled Wishes
Teach me not to nibble and feed,
On an appetite of my own selfish needs.
I am seeking a new diet,
That inspires a fresh insight.
With a brightness that incites,
A joyous excitement.
Teach me to appreciate all that I am.
Help me reach out to others...
To awaken that view,
Enabling them to see 'that' within them too!
If you've come to teach me greed.
Teach me to crave the gluttony of happiness.
Teach me to instruct others...
Deception is not a taste,
To welcome with an invitation...
At this grand feast to take place!
Teach me not to nibble and feed,
On an appetite of my own selfish needs.
Teach me to know that my happiness and joy...
Can only be fed,
If others are encouraged to also share.
Bringing with them a dish...
To spread upon the table of fulfilled wishes,
In this season of blessings to caress!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The End
Everyday and in many ways,
Our lives lived is another test to pass.
Like a taking of a quiz.
With answers heard that are daily given,
For a patience to wait to escape from reality.
And every few years people solicit...
With expensive campaigns,
In the supporting of a leader politcally correct...
Who will correct those sorrows and pains,
To remain us all who benefits and gains.
And in the end,
We get more accustomed...
To the bending of our backs,
With complaints of who is not delivering...
That accepted touch that does not affect delusions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Postmodern Light
If you don't support ‘progress’
You're not politically correct
Though often it is pure foulness
A perfect product of the imperfect.
If you believe in freedom
Yes, you're politically correct
But one's liberty is another's serfdom
Power in the hand of the elect.
If you're not a feminist
You're not politically correct
So do not swing your fist
Even when you are erect.
Your values and tradition
Are politically correct, perhaps,
If your divorces keep going on
Imbued with other family mishaps.
If you're not a ‘postmodern’
You're not politically correct
So just raise high your lantern
And irradiate for stage effect.
poem by Paul Hartal
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HAVE WE GONE OFF THE RAILS? Apr 10th 2011
If we can accept an abortion clinic on every street,
Imposed by our appointed Supreme Court as hard as concrete,
Politically correct holocaust of unborn babies now,
Never mentioned in Parliament and was just not allowed,
Where death with dignity, unlike abortions, is an offence,
And appointed aristocrats will show their lack of elegance,
Where binding referendums are both illegal and banned,
And those who are politically correct think this is grand.
And our coming election is not about to change one thing,
It’s about the upper echelon as they pull their agenda string,
No wonder that less than half Canadians even bother to vote,
What’s the use, if what they want to change, they can’t promote.
Apr 10th,2011
poem by James Bredin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Patted Fat Cats
They want deregulation done by government.
But from their mouths they shout and say,
They want the government away.
They want deregulation done by government.
But from their mouths they shout and say,
They want the government away.
What's wrong with greedy people,
Who just want to feed their greed.
And when the greeding stops,
They want to blame someone about it!
And...
What's wrong with greedy people,
Who just want to feed their greed.
And when the greeding stops,
They want to blame someone about it!
They don't want no more taxes.
But they want to live relaxed.
To live their lives on that high hog...
Like patted fat cats!
They don't want no more taxes.
But they want to live relaxed.
To live their lives on that high hog...
Like patted fat cats!
What's wrong with greedy people,
Who just want to feed their greed.
And when the greeding stops,
They want to blame someone about it!
And...
What's wrong with greedy people,
Who just want to feed their greed.
And when the greeding stops,
They want to blame someone about it!
They want deregulation done by government.
But from their mouths they shout and say,
They want the government away.
What's wrong with greedy people,
Who can not correct their evils.
What's wrong with greedy people,
Who can not correct misdeeds.
What's wrong with greedy people,
Who can not correct their evils.
What's wrong with greedy people,
Who can not correct misdeeds.
What's wrong with greedy people,
And their foolish beliefs!
What's wrong with greedy people,
And their foolish beliefs!
What's wrong with greedy people,
Who can not correct their evils.
What's wrong with greedy people,
And their foolish beliefs!
Like patted fat cats stroking their own backs.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tickin Away
The clock above the bar
Is telling me its 12:15
And its not such a gentle reminder
That Im where I shouldnt be
I just keep waiting for something to happen
Waiting for somebody to come walking in
Somebody as perfect as you were
So I can try it again
(but) chances are so hard to come by
And the second one is impossible to find
The clock keep running
And the odds keep getting higher
That its all just a fantasy of mine
But I shouldnt be thinking about it
I shouldnt be worried about it
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its ticking away
I suppose I should cut all my losses
Go home with a six-pack of beer
There aint nobody in the world like you baby
If there was, she wouldnt be coming in here
But I shouldnt be thinking about it
I shouldnt be worried about it
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
Yeah, its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
I suppose I should cut all my losses
Go home with a six-pack of beer
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everything Today Is In a Collective Bin
What is the argument?
And why are those hidden sentiments...
Trying to find a purpose.
That attracts to their past actions.
Everything today is in a collective bin.
The selfish can not see it,
Because of the mindsets they've lived in.
A greed has intoxicated them into beliefs...
Everything they've gotten,
Has not been produce by those...
They've disregarded and forgotten.
What is the argument?
And why are those hidden sentiments...
Trying to find a purpose,
To regurgitate from an hypnosis done.
That has enraged the minds of the blinded ones!
Everything today is in a collective bin.
The selfish can not see it,
Because of the mindsets they've lived in.
A greed has intoxicated them into beliefs...
Everything they've gotten,
Has not been produce by those...
They've disregarded and forgotten,
Just to indulge themselves in entertaining whims.
Not caring about others...
But them, them, them!
They wish to conquer and win.
But what?
Is the argument?
And from where was this insecurity fed?
That jeopardizes a security,
To bring upon their chosen soil...
Blood donated and shed!
'They fight to incite their on insanity,
Without consciousness or insight.
To where would they flee...
When the poisons have worn off,
Of their bitter thoughts.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Cash. No Hash
Bad credit?
I wouldn't have applied for credit at all...
If I could afford what i wanted.
Whether good or bad,
I have never had a grocery store...
Foreclose on my eating habits.
And even though the subject may seem ridiculous,
It's like this...
If I don't have the cash,
No eggs with hash splashed with a dash of catsup...
Will I taste to nibble, sniff or eat.
Try shopping for food,
With all resources depleted.
No cash.
No hash.
Whether credit is good, sad, bad...
Or just nonexistent.
A signature with a promised I.O.U.
Will not do.
Even in the best of times!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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