Equally Worshipped
An ignorance historically condoned,
Has opposition if protested.
It is like taking crack from an addict.
Or suddenly professing their ill affects!
And these addictions are best left alone.
Especially in places,
Where religion 'and' hypocrisy...
Are equally worshipped!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Ominous Places
Ominous places,
With faces hard to leave...
Can,
Introduce a certain weakness...
Temptating to be pleased.
And...
Those ominous places,
Will provide one a company.
That...
Later one will regret,
As a fix that's wished and needed.
Ominous places,
With faces hard to leave...
Can,
Introduce a certain weakness...
Temptating to be pleased.
And...
Those ominous places,
Will provide one a company.
That...
Later one will regret,
As a fix that's wished and needed.
But...
Once condoned,
Can never be left alone.
Those ominous places,
Will provide one a company.
That...
Later one will regret,
As a fix that's wished and needed.
But...
Once condoned,
Can never be left alone.
But...
Once condoned,
Can never be left alone.
But...
Once condoned,
Can never be left alone.
To be...
Left alone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Acceptance of Limitation
An intelligence defined by its commonness.
With conditioning affects,
Repeatedly unchanged...
Remains the same in its acceptance,
Of limitations confirmed and expected.
It is not reaching for heights unknown.
Or maverick voyages inspected to address.
Since little of that is nurtured or shown.
Within itself...
There is a discouragement left.
Although a willingness is welcomed,
A birth that clings onto a faith untested...
Allows a growth of hypocrisy condoned.
On foundations grown...
Initializing at its base.
This is not to be question or challenge.
Definitions have been set in place!
The realism of symbolism flourishes.
Never to be erased or end confrontations,
Taking place within.
A intelligence seeking comprehension...
Struggles with knowledge.
And attempts to avoid division.
But eventually chooses to separate in isolation.
To protect from the effective feeding of delusion.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Whatever It May Be that Affects
What,
Ever it may be that affects...
You have it in yourself,
To disconnect it.
Whatever it may be that affects,
You have it in yourself...
To disconnect it.
Whatever it may be that affects.
Whatever it may be that affects.
A loneliness you wish to rid!
Whatever it may be that affects.
Emotions breeding to feed on fears!
Whatever it may be that affects.
Whatever it may be that affects.
Heartbreak that can not escape the aching.
Let it go!
Don't let it upset.
You gave to it now from you erase it!
Whatever it may be that affects,
You have it in yourself...
To disconnect it.
Whatever it may be that affects.
Whatever it may be that affects.
Let it go!
Don't let it upset.
Whatever it may be that affects.
Let it go!
Don't let it upset.
Whatever it may be that affects.
Let it go!
Don't let it upset.
Whatever it may be that affects.
Whatever it may be that affects.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Jena 6 Mix
Well...
Let's see!
Some nooses were hung from a tree.
And folks who themselves,
Are constantly refusing to accept reality...
See 'this' as racist? That could be!
While they accept hypocrisies in their own cities!
And they believe they are blessed,
To leave these scenes behind unaddressed?
Professing 'Christians' marching in a 'collective' protest!
Well...
Let's see!
They speak of what should be a democracy!
And they travel for miles to display a unity?
But they themselves disrespect with deeds.
Children raised to reflect what they've been taught...
Demonstrate what an entire thoughtlessness has brought!
And an intolerance that is shown and overblown...
Becomes transfixed by a Jena 6 mix!
That still leaves an ignorance left,
In their own backyards unfixed and condoned!
Shouldn't they protest with such conviction...
Those messes unshown,
Left to sit back in their own homes.
And virtually swept under the 'rug' and known?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Traces of my touch
I've pushed the borders
I left the stations
The trains are equally sad
The passengers equally busy
I've crossed the moonlight
I've swum the seas
The drops are equally wet
The depths are equally low
I've touched the treetops
I've opened the nests
The boughs are equally fragile
The root is equally deep
Nothing has changed
But the traces of my touch
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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In The Spending Of Their Time
People who do not appreciate,
Their blessed lives.
Or those equally blessed,
God places into their lives.
Hopefully,
They will come to eventually realize...
There is an ungrateful self-centeredness,
In the spending of their time.
Hopefully,
They will come to realize...
There is an ungrateful self-centeredness,
In their blinded minds.
No one can be all-knowing,
If one has never been alone.
Or have been on their own...
To know the true meaning of self-evaluation.
Or value emotional devastation.
If one has not,
Opened up that lock.
If no one takes the time to stop,
To take 'inventory' of their stock...
That seems for them to never come,
With a dropping of a blocking...
That stuns and shocks.
They will never know,
How this affects and hurts one so!
Those me-me, I-I activities...
Isolates the mind.
Sickens the body.
And darkens a lost soul.
People who do not appreciate,
Their blessed lives.
Or those equally blessed,
God places into their lives...
Hopefully,
They will come to eventually realize...
There is an ungrateful self-centeredness,
In the spending of their time.
There is an ungrateful self-centeredness,
In their blinded minds.
And...
In time,
When they are left confined...
Behind.
With no one concerned...
What it is in their lives,
Or on their minds.
They will come to learn to yearn!
In the spending of,
Their time.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Opposition aren't really the Opposition. They're just called the Opposition. But in fact they are the Opposition in exile. The Civil Service are the Opposition in residence.
quote by Antony Jay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leave Them Alone
Leave them alone,
With their induced indoctrinations.
They have become intoxicated,
With addictions believed!
And these inflictions,
Have left them afflicted...
In mindsets neglected,
To be left deranged.
Whether or not...
They decide they must change!
This is not their decision...
To accept or remain the same.
They can not conceive,
That the only thing real
Is the breath they breathe.
And when the time comes,
Reality will stun them.
They will not accept it!
Although with their eyes they will see!
With wishes to reject it.
They have been conditioned...
They are superior than life itself.
And there is no match,
For the 'brains' they alone maintain!
Leave them alone!
From this revealing shock...
They can not flee.
It is beyond their scope...
Of divisions of religions,
Or mindless racist inequities!
Let them find out for themselves...
That this existence experienced,
Broadens the concept of possibilities!
And self righteous implications,
Of a non-entity such as their 'purities'!
Are what they are...
Prefabrications!
These are but just a few...
Deceptions to be undone to redo!
Coming to enlighten.
Head-on without a preview.
Leave them alone!
They are no challenge for what confronts!
And they will discover that,
On their own!
Leave them alone...
To tolerate an ignorance,
They have shown they alone have condoned.
There will be no tolerance...
For such an accepted wickedness to enlist!
Leave them alone,
To discover the true Wizard of their Oz!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cracked Actor
Ive come on a few years from my hollywood highs
The best of the last, the cleanest star they ever had
Im stiff on my legend, the films that I made
Forget that Im fifty cause you just got paid
Crack, baby, crack, show me youre real
Smack, baby, smack, is that all that you feel
Suck, baby, suck, give me your head
Before you start professing that youre knocking me dead
Oh stay
Please stay
Please stay
You caught yourself a trick down on sunset and vine
But since he pinned you baby youre a porcupine
You sold me illusions for a sack full of cheques
Youve made a bad connection cause I just want your sex
Crack, baby, crack, show me youre real
Smack, baby, smack, is that all that you feel
Suck, baby, suck, give me your head
Before you start professing that youre knocking me dead
Oh yeah
Oooh stay
For a day
Oh yeah
Dont you dare
Oh yeah yeah yeah yeah
Hoo
Hoo
Yeah
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Gift Given By A Friend With Benefits
Those of intelligence,
Are rarely self obsessed with it.
It is something possessed,
Not to boast about to impress.
Or can they be discovered,
In confession professing this.
But those acknowledging others,
Who are declared to be wise...
Seem always there ready to test,
With a quick display of their best ignorance.
And...
Successful they are in the doing to convince,
Just how valued for them a keeping of ignorance is.
As if it is a gift given by a friend with benefits.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Placed On Pedestals High
Overbloated by boasted ideals.
And consumed by boosted images.
None of this is real but affects mindsets.
With immaculate pretensions.
Yet...
A collision resides,
Inside where truth is not invited.
In fact,
Neither is a comfort condoned...
In a place one calls 'home'.
In mind, body or spirit!
Although,
A perfectness is expected...
By those who have achieved notoriety!
And they are placed on pedestals high,
Closer to the worshipped heavens!
To maintain robotized lives.
Delighting those deluded and awed,
By human achievements that become idolized.
And rubbing elbows close,
Surviving one sees are their hypocrisies.
Almost as clear as the cracks appearing,
And barely hidden...
On foundations in much need,
Of updated restorations.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I fell through a crack for years. Historically, I am a nothing because I fit in no category. I can only be me.
quote by Howard Hodgkin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Did Youth Go?
When did I stop being a teenager?
When did I stop listening to the radio
from midnight until 2 or 3 a.m. weeknights?
Why was teenage music so empowering?
Why were we so absorbed with the music?
Music which really rocked our wild souls?
Music we danced at local teenage disco too.
Music we drove our parents or first cars too.
Music we drank beer or spirits or partied too.
It seemed we could not live without music.
It seemed we could not meet without music.
It seemed our dreams lived within the beat of music.
Music was part of the fuel which drove our souls.
Music was part of the weekend ever speeding by.
Music was magic drumbeat of hot midnight parties.
Where is the large rocking crowd going?
Where are all the friendly teenagers going?
Where are all those old friends going?
Where where is large trendy rocking crowd going?
Where where are all the friendly teenagers going?
Where where are all those good old friends going?
Suddenly those wild unending party days are over.
Suddenly those exciting unending teenage years are over.
Suddenly those pubs full of our friends are empty.
Suddenly they all suddenly left town.
Suddenly they are all no longer around.
Suddenly they are all in places we don't go.
Suddenly they all suddenly left the old home town.
Suddenly they are all suddenly no longer around.
Suddenly they are all in places we don't know or go.
Where did those teenage years quietly go?
Those teenage friends I used to know?
Where did they all suddenly go?
Where did those teenage years quietly creeping go?
Those lost teenage friends I once upon a time did know?
Where did they all suddenly go exiting a vanishing show?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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There Is...
There is...discrimination.
And there is...denial,
On trial.
There is...racists in places.
There is...faces of hate.
And there is...people who fake it,
To celebrate the waste.
And there is...division.
There is...much of it seen.
And there is...violence and crime.
And folks out of minds.
There is...homeless and hungry.
Those jobless who struggle,
And muzzle their pain.
With nothing but strain and those gains down the drain.
AND THERE IS...doubt and confusion.
THERE IS...shared misery.
And if no one has known this...
They don't wish to see.
Because it is there...
As clear as can be!
There is...love everywhere!
And if people don't know that...
They wont and don't care!
There is...fixes to mend this.
And when that time comes...
All grief will be lifted.
Admitted,
And sent...
Drifting away!
Like an addict that's had it...
To send this away.
Like an addict that's had it...
To send this away.
Like an addict that's had it...
With a habit that's bad.
To send this away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The function of religions
I belong to my religion
To belong to the people
Who are with the religion.
I remain with a fixed sect
To remain with the people
Who remain with that sect.
I identify a shrine
To identify myself
With those visiting the shrine.
The people of the religion,
Not the ideal of the religion,
Is my motive to follow.
The religion wants my membership.
The sect wants my participation.
The shrine wants my attendance.
Neither they nor I am strict
That the ideals be pursued
As the idols are worshipped.
How can then the religion
Reform and refine the human
Other than consolidation?
06.0.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Too Bad We Can Not Cease Our Addictions
Under steeples in pews praying,
Are the people of faith deep in their wishes...
With eyes closed tightly,
As the preacher peeks silently...
While cobwebs drop,
Slowly,
From ceilings high.
Some are seen uneasy freeing inhabitions.
As symbols are squeezed,
Or ritually brought to lips to kiss.
With the hope these actions,
Protects them from superstitions.
While many minds are on sipping liquor.
With a mixing of that scotch on the rocks...
To guzzle as if punch or soda pop!
Even in the sacred of places...
It's too bad,
We can not skip the thinking...
Of taking a nip or two,
Of those habits...
Crooks can not loot from us.
Because we wouldn't have it!
'PLEASE...
Do not harm anyone in my family.
And IF I can make a special request...
I will give the combination,
Of the safe where the valuables are kept.
But whatever you do...
Please don't touch my booze.
You have no idea...
What that booze has help me through.'
We keep our addictions,
Protected...
As if guarding Fort Knox!
And when the preacher stops praying...
Some folks are nudged from nods,
To 'a-men' themselves with their heads cocked.
As if overwhelmed by a scripture with a message...
'Too much CAIN will attack any ABLE left,
In one's brain! '
It's too bad we can not cease our addictions.
It's too bad we can't give them to the crooks...
Who prescribe them to keep us hooked.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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An Addiction To Self Hatred
People who make excuses for themselves,
Will always seek opportunities...
To cry out injustices against them have been made.
But a lack of discipline and respect shown,
To themselves and others...
Have been condoned to take a backseat,
To allow their self inflicted indignities heard...
With a loud outspoken outreach of this served.
As they continue not to listen and react like beasts,
While continuing the act to despise their own kind.
With an expectation of this sought and taught to keep.
And programmed they are to have this kind of mind,
While confined to limitations worshipped to abuse...
An addiction to self hatred uncompromised to diffuse.
Or... be moved from depths of this ignorance accepted.
Since a tolerance of it has been protected as a reward,
To achieve as a reflection of who and what is represented.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No Dress Rehearsals (part II)
Their only rehearsal for parenting was
The mimicry of their parent’s actions
And unfortunately
There is no dress rehearsal for life
A vicious circle, and
Ignorance was to blame
I was shown how
I should eat food and
The food I should eat
Whether I liked it or not
The fear of God and the God of fear
Temporarily made me afraid of
How I should think about religion and
How religion will punish me if
I chose not to think about religion
We were to speak when spoken to and
We were to be seen but not heard, so
I chose to become unheard and unseen
I left home at an early age
poem by William Cavanagh
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Historically, more people have died of religion than cancer.
quote by Dick Francis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Decaying As It Is
I could never excuse,
Something that I've done.
To anyone for sport and fun.
Like the lawfulness of hunting...
That gives one a license to kill!
But abusive ignorance is condoned.
With a movement allowed...
That does not forgive.
And a society decaying as it is...
Continues to market its own decadence!
With escapes to lay the blame on terrorists.
As a prioritized 'short list' of deeds to accomplish,
Is void of virtues that do not exist!
Not as they should...
On streets in the 'hood!
Or reflected in suburban self righteousness.
Where there is a true crisis impending.
Those minds have long been bent.
To believe they are the center of the universe.
I could never excuse,
Something that I've done.
To anyone for sport and fun.
Like the lawfulness of hunting...
That gives one a license to kill!
But abusive ignorance is condoned.
With a movement allowed...
That does not forgive.
And thrive like so many,
On a hatred that lives!
Decaying as it is.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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