Equally Sheltered And Confused
You can not believe what is going on?
And in your disbelief,
You seek and explanation for it?
Perhaps you should ask yourself this question...
'Where have I been not to have been a witness.
And how much of reality,
Have I chosen to dismiss? '
Whatever it is that is in existence today,
To even admit not to have known about this...
Is to personally announce the living in denial.
And the mind that you have,
Is both isolated and limited.
Leaving you not alone to share this point of view,
With others who too...
Are equally sheltered and confused.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Look How Limited And Dim That Point Of View Is
Racists can't help but be crazy.
Look how limited and dim that point of view is!
And to the extreme the protection of insecurities.
Racists can't help but be crazy.
Remember those cowboy and indian days.
And the cavalry lead by John Wayne...
Saved every studio making movies,
In old Hollywood.
And our sense of greatness,
Was raised to new heights.
We taught our picked enemies how to fight!
Look how limited and dim that point of view is!
Racists can't help but be crazy.
And in denial many wont admit it in public.
As if their mindset does not reflect their ideals.
It does.
Any human being can feel the insignifance of it!
Racists can't help but be crazy.
Look how limited and dim that point of view is!
And to the extreme the protection of insecurities.
Look how the punching of holes in a once floating boat,
Sinks it!
Racists can't help but be crazy.
And many just lay on the beach to tan.
Without knowing a thing about swimming!
Or which deeds to uphold in respect and demand.
Look how limited and dim that point of view is!
And I'm just observing it.
Not passing judgement on this at all.
I choose not to stall my forward pace.
I choose to widen my perceptions...
As I move my mind into a broader space.
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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I Have To Sneeze
Just a second.
I have to snee...
Well,
Maybe not.
You chose to dismiss those competent.
And those competent have chosen now,
To ignore you.
Sounds like a mutual exchange.
But with a conflicting point of view.
You selected those you liked,
To represent your causes and way of life.
Inspite of their having any knowledge...
Or influence over others,
To solicit an excitement.
Nor could they think their way,
Out of a paper bag.
But they looked good dressed in their Sunday best.
And as long as they impressed,
This made you glad.
And now today,
Since your situations appear exceedingly sad...
You wish to be represented by a competence.
But those you did not choose,
You believed...
Expressed an arrogance.
And even though they displayed a common sense,
You turned them away.
Dismissing them to worship ignorance.
To do as you please.
One moment...
Again I believe,
I have to sneeze.
LOLOLOLOLOL
I apologize.
Who knew I would have that reaction?
You chose to dismiss those competent.
And those competent have chosen now,
To ignore you.
Sounds like a mutual exchange.
But with a conflicting point of view.
Ahh-Choo!
There it is.
I knew it was coming,
Eventually!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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From A Growing Observation
Anyone living today,
Lost in between false identities...
And not knowing from which of the many delusions,
To pick and keep...
With standards valued slipping from their reach,
Are more than just confused...
In times that seek clear and unclouded visions.
Since those who have long chosen paths to walk,
With a faith communicated and with less talk...
Are not the ones these days,
Found following anyone crazed.
Or teased by promises to taste slices of apple pie.
Those who have chosen to label them as such...
'Crazed with strange ways! '
Seem not to know 'who' they are,
Or for what purpose they exist to hustle, bustle and rush...
To live lives for materialistic reasons to impress,
Throughout each season!
And from a growing observation of those evaluating,
These 'priorities'...
Appear to be a fading cause to provide one happiness.
Although...
Quick they are to defend their chaotic existence,
To announce themselves as, 'Followers of God's wishes.'
Really?
Well...
I hope God forgives the rest of us,
For interpreting His or Her 'wishes'...
With a seeking of a better way to live our lives,
That has a lot less upheaval and no turmoil.
But thank you for the invitation anyway.
We've decided we'd rather have God judge our ways.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Wishes Would Be Limited
What I want...
Has a lot to do with you.
If I was not inspired,
By your desires...
My wishes would be limited.
I admit that.
And it is true.
You provide an insight,
That enlightens.
And brings a brightness to my heart.
You may not be aware of this.
You may even dismiss it!
If I should address or mention it!
Yet...
What I want...
Has a lot to do with you.
If I was not inspired,
By your desires...
My wishes would be limited.
I admit that.
And it is true.
I may not be on your mind at all.
And that is not a request,
I sit with in wishes.
However you do it...
And by the way you get that done,
Has a quality.
And for me from you...
That is all I need!
You 'are' who you are.
And that alone feeds me.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Of That They Are Not Aware
A heart beating with no sign or clue,
To the meaning of empathy.
Or what others are going through.
And their suffering is in full view.
I question that connection to humanity!
I question those who do not feel...
A remorse.
Or to blind to see a society off course.
But then again...
Some are living in comfort zones,
Isolated.
As it has always been for them.
And accustomed to believe...
Those who suffer,
Are not as lucky as those...
Taught to dismiss their emotions.
And to ignore those less fortunate.
Although their fortunes,
One day too will wane.
Of that...
They are not aware.
And totally unprepared.
Or mentally fit for it when it comes.
And it comes.
Detention will have more meaning for them,
Than being late!
Those who rebel...
Will find themselves confined.
When that time arrives.
And 'this' will be that change,
They can believe in!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I...Have Been, Reborn
There is nothing like,
Looking at life...
From an adult point of view.
I had no idea,
Becoming accountable...
With responsibilities prioritized,
Would open my eyes so wide.
And even though it had been traumatic,
To free my mind from the ease of making excuses...
I survived to appreciate those mistakes I made.
And today,
Without a doubt...
Prepared on the tip of my tongue,
And composed as an alibi...
I use to fit for lips to come out of my mouth.
I am so proud to say and admit...
I have escape from hiding behind,
Deceit and denial.
I...
Have been,
Reborn.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Our Universal Being
We are not this body nor the vital breath
We are not the mind we’re beyond death.
We are all free souls though incarnate
We should know all this and meditate.
We are not the name known to mind
We are not the emotions of any kind.
We are beyond the thoughts that come and go
We are forever a free soul and this should know.
We are not the feelings that arise and subside
We are not any object that is seen from outside.
We are consciousness and witness the ebb and flow
We are beyond imagination and what it cannot show.
We are not that which is born and dies
We are that which is as vast as the skies.
We are all the children of The Infinite
We should know all this every minute.
We are not that which can be measured or quantified
We are not even something that in time is specified.
We are part and parcel of a boundless Supreme Being
We are indivisible existence not limited to eyes seeing.
We are love and bliss and have all this to share
We are that which is sought by many out there.
We are also that which is neither lost nor found
We are the reality and essence of all that's around.
We are above any likes and dislikes that may form
We are not an ordinary being or one of the norm.
We are in humbleness devoted to helping the weak
We are the changeless Truth and Wisdom we seek.
We are One Infinite Existence without beginning or end
We have Everything inside us we should all comprehend.
We are not many but One and all can experience this as a fact
We are That which always was, now is and forever will be Intact.
----------------------
Note:
Originally titled 'My Universal Self And Metaphysical Being' and written in the first person format. Try reading it in the first person i.e. start each line with: I am.....
poem by George Krokos
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Federation of Unions
A collective of unions,
Of one
Is being done.
This globalistic mission,
To dismiss divisions...
With a socialistic point of view,
Comes to reflect upon those upset.
Isolated protectivism,
With beliefs fading quick!
Has those of a mindset,
Internally struggling...
To maintain foundations in conflict!
And this can not persist like this!
A collective of unions,
Of one
Is being done.
Affecting the lives of everyone.
And the change coming to all who resist,
Is going to stun...
By the effectiveness of it!
A federation of unions comes to exist!
And who leads,
Will not be as important...
As those who will be forced to follow!
Swallowing a past,
From times no longer everlasting.
He may have said it!
Many may have regrets.
But all will experience,
And feel the affects of change!
This globalistic mission,
To dismiss divisions...
With a socialistic point of view,
Comes to reflect upon those upset.
But there will be little a few in opposition can do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Your Giving Is Not Anonymous
It isn't easy to admit,
To witness what is apparent and seen...
The moment it is delivered.
Although it may be invisible to those who have chosen,
To dismiss it as fast as the passing of gas.
But the one observing it done,
Knows exactly who did it and where it came from.
'At least you should have the courtesy,
To say 'excuse me'.'
~Why?
I don't smell a thing.~
'Then how do you know what has been done?
And don't try to sneak away from that one.
Or look at me as if I did it.
Trust me...
Your giving is not anonymous.'
~You have experience at being annoying,
Don't you? ~
'Thanks to people like you,
I am getting there.'
~Now you have everyone looking at me! ~
'And you don't think they should? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Are 'Never' Going To Change
Here it comes, again.
That same denial I make attempts to forget.
The same one about my missing someone loved.
Someone I am trying my best not to admit.
Why me?
Why can't you just leave me alone,
And be about your own business.
Here I sit alone for a few minutes.
With the thought of this on my mind.
And then I believe from me those feelings go.
And then when I 'think' the coast is clear.
Those feelings come again.
They without notice re-appear.
So I pick up the telephone.
Blocking out my number before I dial.
Knowing those feelings once had in me are gone.
To announce very quickly to 'whoever' answers...
That the number I dialed was wrong.
Why me?
I find I am asking myself this,
Constantly.
Here it comes, again.
That same denial I make attempts to forget.
The same one about my missing someone loved.
Someone I am trying my best not to admit.
So I pick up the telephone.
Blocking out my number out before I dial.
Knowing those feelings once had in me are gone.
To announce very quickly,
The number I dialed was wrong.
'Why can't you just leave me alone? '
Excuse me?
Didn't you here me say...
I dialed a wrong number?
You are 'never' going to change!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Surfaced Emptiness
I close my eyes...
And no boundaries appear.
I open them and quickly see...
Restrictions that are limited.
And labels placed,
That are believed.
Although unclear...
To one who perceives.
I feel emotions,
But taught them not to express.
I am confused by those,
Who have open conversations.
But only to address,
A surfaced emptiness.
I close my eyes...
And no boundaries appear.
I open them and quickly see...
Restrictions that are limited.
And labels placed,
That are believed.
Although unclear...
To one who perceives.
I question with answers expected.
Although I am told,
Curiosity killed the cat.
But if cats have nine lives to live...
Why should my questions,
Threaten death like that?
I am not a cat.
I want to learn!
And that's a fact.
I've stumbled and fell,
To my knees that were scraped.
Most of what I've comprehended,
Has been done by making mistakes.
And if 'censoring' teaches anything at all...
It teaches that one man's truth,
Could get him exclusively blackballed!
How hypocritical can the expression be...
'Do as I say!
And not as I do! '
Mean to today's youth...
On pursuit,
To living lives wholesomely!
Senseless without a point,
Seems this journey!
Senseless without a point,
To hunger with a yearning.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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While Seeking Something More Impressive
They are the first to admit,
A seeking of creative ways to advance...
And exist in all areas,
That will justify their growth process.
But for whatever the reasons,
They have chosen to dismiss...
Those with the creative expertise,
To recommend with suggestions.
And instead look for scholars,
With book sense to limited mindsets...
To guide them in their quest,
To be the best that they can be!
And...
They still will never see,
The forest for the trees.
While seeking something more impressive.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Wake Up In A Time Where There Is Love
*'When will there be a time to love? '
Stevie Wonder wants to know.
No one arrived here,
Without the making of love.
Whomever disputes this...
To present it opposed and suspiciously denied,
Has more than denial on their unbelieving minds.
They also have a limited point of view and life,
Lived!
The time to give and manifest love is now.
Even if the acceptance of it is regarded as art.
Love has to start,
To be shown and expressed.
With the elimination of every disorder manmade,
On Earth reversed.
To witness the glowing of pride.
And thirsting to be released from mental stagnation.
'When will there be a time to love? '
Stevie Wonder wants to know.
And so do I.
I want to feel and know what it is like,
To wake up in a time where there is love.
Without the persistent wishes of an imagination.
I have got to witness this!
Note:
*'When Will There Be A Time To Love'
is a 'wonder'ful composition performed,
produced and written...
By Stevie Wonder
'Thank you, Stevie'
~lsp~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Persisting To Exist To Pester
If it has been what it is,
And you've been made to believe...
It was not!
And you discover a truth from you,
Has been intentionally dismissed.
What else is there connected,
To your disbeliefs...
Persisting to exist to pester?
Perhaps you should investigate,
This annoyance that irritates.
To uncover why it insists to prick you.
Why keep defying in denial the reality of it!
If you don't mind,
I would like to leave you with this...
I wouldn't continue to question its existence.
I would suspect the validity of those beliefs you keep.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Who Knew Too Few Would Be Found To Qualify
The comments made on racism,
Are as ridiculous as the denials.
Anyone within distance,
Of an urban area wherever it is.
Would witness the existence of it.
Unless those riding on tour buses are told,
How laziness results in hunger...
And homelessness.
And those that are subjected to this point of view,
Have had choices to control their own destinies.
But who knew too few would be found to qualify.
Leaving the majority to self inflict their own wounds.
And choosing to be victims.
The comments made on racism,
Are as ridiculous as the denials.
Anyone within distance,
Of an urban area wherever it is.
Would witness the existence of it.
Unless those riding on tour buses are told,
How laziness results in hunger...
And homelessness.
And those that are subjected to this point of view,
Have had choices to control their own destinies.
But who knew too few would be found to qualify.
Leaving the majority to self inflict their own wounds.
And choosing to be victims.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Highways and Byways of My Mind
As I wander through the endless roads
That typify my thoughts and dreams,
One question has always remained.
Throughout the years, I've journeyed on;
Climbed every hill, crossed all the streams,
But, what have I really gained?
When I look back at the battles I've fought
Against foes that my mind fabricated,
I wonder who lost and who won.
Did I emerge from the fray triumphantly,
In victory, most celebrated?
Or was I the vanquished one?
I have always been strong and dependable
For those in need of a shoulder to cry on.
A tower of strength and relief.
But I always struggle to share my fears:
To admit that I too need somone to rely on.
Can't shake off my disbelief.
My life is a mess. The demons inside me
Are laying waste to my life and my heart.
They have almost cost me my son.
I need to begin to get back some control.
To shake off the feelings of doubt and get smart,
Or all that I care for is done.
So I'm giving myself a brand new start,
Leaving the path of least resistance.
I'll take back my life from today.
It won't be easy, but I'll claw my way back,
And I won't be afraid to ask for assistance
When it gets a bit rough on the way.
poem by Dawn Ferrett
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Psychotic
Some have chosen to waltz,
Through their lives.
With minimal chances taken.
And faking steps...
Clearly undetermined.
And on their terms,
A reality is accepted.
An expectation understood...
Delays a maturity stunted.
Never happening as it should.
A mindset enhanced,
Is not encouraged to flourish as it could.
A self-centeredness in a world is viewed.
This tainted nourishment is pursued.
A sense of feeling grounded is subdued.
Perplexing them in sheltered nests,
And exposes flaws they believe are hidden...
In a psychotic self deception.
No one contests this acceptance,
As a lost lesson.
Bringing to them neither peace nor rest.
Poisoned on concepts they can not resist to feed.
Social misfits like these can not perceive...
How controlled they are.
In environments they can not see,
Has no allowances for them to be free!
And that is condoned...
As if this was meant to be!
Continuing to tease a release of their own anguish!
And kept medicated on a prescribed point of view,
That keeps them hungering for lives confused.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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God is not, as in scholasticism, the final subject of all predicates. He is being as unpredicable. The existence of the creature, in so far as it exists, is the existence of God, and the creature’s experience of
God is therefore in the final analysis equally unpredicable. Neither can even be described; both can only be indicated. We can only point at reality, our own or God’s. The soul comes to the realization of God by knowledge, not as in the older Christian mysticism by love.
quote by Kenneth Rexroth
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Confused Sexuality
He was confused
She was confused
A nonsensical sexual reality
A perceived established identity
Conformity of confused sexuality
A deformity of needs
Where the eyes and the body feed
Are we gay?
Have we all fallen astray?
Is it time for us to pray?
While the sun shines its rays,
We stand up proudly and say
Why do we feel this way?
His smile made him belong
To a land identified as wrong
Her kiss made her feel
It was time to dismiss
What was unreal
His touch made him want
him more and more
Her touch inspired her
She felt something
She had never felt before
The Journey of confusion
Denial and submission
The passage of life from birth
When they were all in a transition
Learning from you and me
Trying to understand the key
Of how to unlock the door to be free
Are we therefore responsible
for this confused sexual identity
Teaching them the good and the wrong
Or has it been there all along
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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