Entertained With Ideals to Match
I do understand,
The lost of interest in reality.
And I can sympathize with those,
Who have chosen to manifest...
And let grow their delusions.
Those who have dealt with the reality of things...
Have seemed the most disrespected,
For professing the obvious.
While those deluded,
Have always been detached.
Preferring to be entertained with ideals to match.
The mavericks and the nonconformists,
Have long lived lives referred to as fools.
And few of them seem saddened...
To have been separated with a peace of mind,
For them that soothes.
I do understand,
The lost of interest in reality.
And I can sympathize with those,
Who have chosen to manifest...
And let grow their delusions.
Although I do wish,
They someday will find solutions...
For their mental conflicts!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Elated To Have Been Distanced
From which side are those with kept delusions,
Would 'they' say are most difficult to view?
Those on the side witnessing their values diminished,
By the ones they've entrusted to keep them endeared?
Or the ones advocating the others to be fools,
To dismiss those standards hyped as reality...
When both sides refuse to accept reality as it appears,
With a denying of its existence?
And those censored as nonconformists,
Who continue to offend them with truth...
Are defamed on a daily basis,
For their attempts to introduce truth to them.
From which side are those with kept delusions,
Would 'they' say are most difficult to view?
When both sides refuse to accept reality as it appears,
With a denying of its existence?
And those censored as nonconformists,
Sing their praises to be the ones isolated...
To view all of this from a higher consciousness.
And elated to have been distanced.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Purpose That Remains Effective
Solutions and delusions both,
Have a common connection...
To the existence of a reality resisted.
All three appear to be totally distanced,
From anything decided to be concrete.
And the ones who claim they know what it takes,
To eliminate today's confusion...
Are said to have answers to bring relief.
Although...
It could be debated,
That those deluded have found a solution...
To permanently confuse reality for all.
And with a purpose that remains effective,
Few can honestly say a success has not been achieved.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Communicating With Diminishing Minds
I've chosen not to dope my reality.
And it has been the most difficult thing,
I have ever done.
Especially when seeking someone,
Who has decided to quit attempts to impress.
So many have chosen,
To even run away from their delusions.
And in these times...
Communicating with diminishing minds,
Is not easy.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When Have You Ever Dealt With It Anyway?
Hmmm...
Let's see.
What do 'I' recommend,
As a precaution to secure your immediate future?
I would protect what you most value!
'What would that be? '
First I would secure your medications.
You know...
The ones that numb the affects,
Of the things you can not digest.
The ones that keep your delusions protected.
Those that stimulate your pretensions best.
That's what I would do.
If I were you.
'So,
In other words...
Refuse any hints of reality?
Is that what you are saying to me? '
Hints? ? ?
Ignore reality altogether!
You've never expressed to having any use for it before.
When have you ever dealt with it anyway?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Now I Can See
I use to believe,
Those deluded by fantasy...
Were the ones that had 'the problem'.
But as I have gotten older...
Although no less opinionated,
Now I can see those with 'the problem'
Are those who have discovered reality.
Since they are totally outnumbered.
And today my dilemma lies,
As to whom I should sympathize.
Having been declared 'unusual' at a young age,
Has had its benefits.
I have been accused of being deluded,
By those who try but can not escape from reality.
And yet,
I have managed to keep my unusualness intact.
How about that?
Please.
This is embarrassing.
I am overwhelmed.
No applause or standing ovations needed.
You may take your seats.
'Geeessshhh.
You reek of humility.'
It's a gift I try not to expose.
However...
I do admit some flirting done,
With a flaunting of it!
'Geeesus! '
No!
No-no.
I am not 'that' carried away!
Even though I have been called...
'A miracle.'
Hmmm...
I see I'm not the only one around here,
With talents and gifts!
'Or delusional.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Being Aware And Conscious Of It
I know who has been on my side,
And who hasn't.
That has been my one weakness,
And flaw.
Being aware and conscious of it,
Around those still connected to nonsense...
Will get comments made from those,
Who have yet to identify themselves...
With feelings they project on others.
And the depth of what being human means.
Many have not awakened from their delusions.
And I have never been given the opportunity,
To find my own.
None to pretend I was better than someone else.
'I have never heard you talk about yourself! '
Why should I do that...
If no one has express the interest?
I rather like to hear,
Those perceptions made of me.
They are far more interesting,
Than the reality lived I know.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Cause and The Defect
Angry?
Why?
Your delusions denied the truth.
With a booting done,
Of those you gossiped were disgruntled.
And were against your standards lived!
Angry?
Why?
You chose to accept the lies in your life,
As they are.
You campaigned to keep things the same,
And unchanged.
With a resisting quick of any reality mentioned.
Angry?
Why?
Those attempts tried to awaken you,
Led to arguments and lives disrespected and slandered.
If you are angry...
Be mad at yourself.
Look in the mirror at your reflection,
And begin to curse!
You have been the problem.
The cause and the defect!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Encumbrance
The source of our sins is our delusions.
We taint our thoughts with faux-morality,
And socio-economic poisons—
We cloud the percepts of reality.
We do not understand that hostility
Cannot offer us any solutions.
Likewise, there is little temerity
In taking pursuit of retribution.
We resist seeking the purified mind,
Resigned to the clutters of our comforts.
What clarity might we possibly find
By abandoning our futile efforts?
Why do we not concede to ignorance
When it would recede our full encumbrance?
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Stepping At Least An Inch Away
Choosing to live one's life,
Honestly...
Would seem to be a no brainer,
For many.
But there are those who have chosen,
To hide their lives behind deceit,
And praying daily to be saved...
From reality.
And I am not the one to say,
From delusions it is easy to wake up.
Or pray what is accustomed for some to go away.
But I know that stepping at least an inch...
Away from one's self everyday,
Helps to remove all kinds of restrictions.
And if attempted more than this,
Can be witnessed and realized.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The belief that one's own view of reality is the only reality is the most dangerous of all delusions.
quote by Paul Watzlawick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Familiarity From Them Suddenly Leaves
Why do people panic,
When a familiarity from them...
Suddenly leaves their lives.
And they have nothing left,
But to focus on that which they've denied.
Like reality!
Without the kicking of those,
Who tried to present it!
And now they make no attempts,
To show themselves in public...
With warnings, suggestions or solutions.
It is almost as if...
Those who struggle with an ignorance,
Are now on their own to combat it!
And no one to blame they remain defenseless.
Since no one is there to sympathize or listen.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Because You Are The Star Of The Universe, The Only One
we do not try that hard
enough
reality has muscles of its
own
when it sees us tired
and rotten
it begins to show its hands
to take us for
a ride
its feet pedaling with the wheels
of beautiful truths
in the gardens of this
universe
it is then when we become the
tourists
simply looking and enjoying
what reality
shows us
so relax, do not overwork yourself
with some chosen words
let the words do the trick
they are your slaves not your masters
let the chair stand on its own legs
move towards you
and then you sit as the windows open
themselves
as the sun finally arrives as the mountains
grow the trees and the greenest grass
so appeasing to your eyes
spectator, the star of the universe
the most important mortal
the chosen creature
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You Should Get More Involved
You should get more involved.
'In the doing of what? '
Well...
In the uh...er...uh...hmmm.
The...uh...
'I've already done that.
That's why I've stopped wasting my time.
Now I do something far more satisfying.'
That sounds interesting.
What is it that you do?
'I leave people looking for escapes,
From reality to charade delusions...
Alone.
I find it fits my personality.
And besides...
I got tired of debating on what side,
Of a nonaccepting of a reality I was on!
And the choices remained unchanged.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Is Best to Leave This Mindset Alone
There will always be those,
Who attempt to match wits...
With those who comprehend
The advantages of understanding.
Some folks live within a box regarded as safe.
And from inside a point of view of outside events...
They choose to argue their findings,
Condensed...
From a state of mind that is comfortable,
But for those who have discovered 'reality'...
They know this makes no sense.
And to produce beneficial chit chat,
Does not induce a growth of thought.
When a sharing is lost with one who's mind is stuck...
Deluded in visions found too comfortable.
And eventually these folks others must give up!
A process attached to learning,
For some is a worthless yearning.
And for them a progress is created from isolation.
Where ignorance is encouraged to thrive and manifest.
It is best to leave this mindset,
Alone!
They perceive time sits to wait for them,
To be condoned!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Where Has That Quality Of Life Gone Today?
Those that grow old but not 'up',
Live lives in recycled patterns.
A process that benefits routine...
Within set limitations,
That have come to demean common sense.
Those living to break away from those 'molds',
Had been referred to as nonconformists at one time.
Now the 'mavericks' have replaced them,
With no concern for the quality of life.
And when nonconformists were shunned...
They sought a better way of life for everyone.
And many attempted to do this,
Without the purchasing and selling...
Of illegal weapons such as guns.
And where has that quality of life gone today?
To the pleading of the needs of those greedy...
Who have left that quality of life stray,
Into corrupted decay.
With other 'necessities' politically and religiously valued.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Doors Are Locked
From inside of this room
I shall not exit
I have locked the doors
To the world outside.
It does not matter to me what is happening outside, because
Behind these locked doors
Is the world that I live in,
This land of my dreams that
I have fabricated for myself alone.
I recall my father recently reading me a story-
Of a woman who created a world within her dreams-
There she lived and locked herself
Inside of the doors that
Barred her from all that is real.
My father's hope was that
I would find my way out from
This place he called the land of my delusions.
This place which he calls the land of my delusions has become
My only veracity.
From the inside of this room
I shall not exit-it is here I safely converse with
The voices inside of my mind.
The doors to this room are locked, but
I can still hear my mother weeping, and
I hear my mother cry out from the midst of her tears-
What has become of my only child?
Inside of this room, I have constructed a world.
The doors are locked and
I have shut reality out-
The doors to my room are locked and
I have lost the key.
My mother is still weeping as her one and only
Has lost the key that would open the doors
To the world outside-
My mother is sobbing; the key is lost and alas-
Her only child's sanity has also been lost.
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Too Late to Amend An Ending
There use to be folks who lived and believed,
They could create anything...
To have others accept as reality.
If they lied on someone,
And ruined their lives...
That was their reality.
If they stole from anyone,
And said it was theirs...
That too was their reality!
And,
If they said something existed...
Knowing that it was false!
Guess who paid the cost?
And guess who lost...
Everything!
Including their minds.
Leaving 'them' and the amusement parks,
Vacant.
Abandoned.
Forever left behind.
And guess who was observed,
Not faking their heartbreaking?
But this came for them...
Much too late to amend an ending.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Wished To Go Away
Meeting you that first time,
Many years ago...
I thought you had it going on.
And you thought the same of me.
At least you told me so.
And immediately I felt a bond.
I 'knew' we had 'something',
To build a relationship.
And that relationship...
Would get stronger,
Since in my heart you belonged.
We were both wrong!
Neither of us had it 'going on'.
What we had were delusions of ideals.
Thinking them to continue.
But reality soon came.
And that reality did not appeal.
The sex was good but the arguments weren't.
Each time we had one,
Feelings we had increasingly got burned.
We both felt we earned a distance.
And from that distance we learned...
Physical attractions only last for so long.
And with no other chemistry there...
What we once felt was going on,
Was wished to go away from us to be gone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Stuff Is Blatant
My observations aren't created.
Rarely embellished are they envisioned.
I see what I see.
And hear what I hear.
Ignoring what is there,
I do not make that decision.
I am one of those probing nosey people.
Wanting to comprehend with a reason,
To question 'why'?
I can be analytical if I wish.
But what I observe...
There is little need for it.
This stuff is blatant!
For open eyes to satiate.
Blatant with a rawness,
Hard for some to digest.
I guess that is why so many folks,
Delude themselves with pretentions.
Preferring lives fantasized,
To moralize what upsets.
This stuff is blatant,
Oh yes.
There in black and white!
But I understand why,
Some choose to camouflage this in disguise.
So much truth conflicts with a resistance to reality.
And reality is much despised.
This stuff is blatant!
For open eyes to satiate.
Blatant with a rawness,
Hard for some to digest.
I guess that is why so many folks,
Delude themselves with pretentions.
Preferring lives fantasized,
To moralize what upsets.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Of My Father's Doing
Why is it...
Your reality fades.
And mine is clearing?
I am feeling more peaceful within.
You seem to welcome a disarray,
Appearing everyday to be getting dim.
Have we chosen this shifting of wits?
There is no explanation,
For this to happen as it is.
Not Like this!
Splitting us is our way of life!
On one side of it is darkness...
And on the other appears more light.
Coming to correct that which was wrong.
Yet through blight...
Haven't we come together to sing songs?
Why is it...
Your reality fades.
And mine is clearing?
Are we nearing the beginning,
Of an ending that transcends?
And which one of us then...
Will find more or less 'anything' to defend?
You with your weapons?
Or me,
Who prefers peace to release,
A humanity wishing goodwill to increase?
This process seems to be...
Of My Father's doing!
And what He wishes to see unfold!
Since there is no obvious outcome to behold!
Without fights of conflict to settle what is right!
Shouldn't we be holding each other close?
Knowing whatever happens,
We love each other most!
My Father is the 'Host' of this reality!
Who knows what jokes He has!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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