Eternally Fortified
There is a place...
Deep within the crevices,
Of their recessed minds!
Where they perceived themselves envied.
Conditioned to believe they were in possession,
What others wanted to take.
Others wanted so badly...
They felt a need to defend themselves,
With weapons and attitude.
They believed themselves highly educated.
Although a few...
Even with degrees,
Could comprehend, read or write.
Even fewer than that,
Had common sense.
And those who did express it,
Were feared!
Even though rarely used.
One day when they awakened,
To address what had been rumored,
As 'reality'!
They found their greatness gone.
They discovered those they despised...
Could care less who they were.
In fact...
They had the better lives!
'Where is my mink, Harry?
Is it still in storage? '
Who tricked these people into beliefs,
Of nonsense?
Who damaged their minds?
And left them quite densed?
Whose standards and quality of life,
Depleted over night?
'Certainly not mine.
I still have tons of caviar! '
Who finally discovered they had worshipped,
Decadence and greed?
Who finds they are economically busted?
With a sick point of view...
That has left them to grieve?
'Harry...
Is that 'you' in there,
Doing that Orson Welles imitation?
I wish you would stop it.
It's so annoying.
Come help me select fabric,
For drapes.'
And...
Even if they solicited,
No where would they discover...
Anyone to show them,
Empathy or sympathy!
And even with this acknowledged...
They 'still' perceived themselves,
The envy of those filled with jealousy!
'That's a 'keeper'.
I love that line.'
Even those who loaned them money.
And owned everything they had!
Including their property and mentalities!
Did not express sadness.
'Don't worry!
They will never take away our racism!
And 'that' we will keep eternally fortified.
We must remain encouraged!
We must...
Maintain our birthright.
Let us now descend,
Within the bowels of our caves!
These theme parties are getting more extravagant.
You're going to love what I did.
I had a designer to do each room,
To my specifications.
So authentic!
You are not going to believe the detail.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Conditioned That Money Should Be Prized
When people are conditioned,
That money should be prized...
Of course their own lives,
Are going to be worthless to them.
With the use of color of their skins,
Light in complexion or dark as night...
Their minds with insights may be encased in,
The mentalities fed are to use this as a weapon,
To defend or ignite one's bigoted and racist appetite.
When people are conditioned,
That money should be prized.
When people are conditioned,
That money should be prized...
Of course there will be deceit.
Of course there will be told lies.
And those who champion the marketing of images,
Aren't going to consciously reflect true beauty...
As it should be.
Beauty will be selective.
And chosen as a commodity.
To sell to those impressed,
And depress with suppression...
Those weakened through enforcing a belief!
When people are conditioned,
That money should be prized...
Of course there will be deceit.
Of course there will be told lies.
When people are conditioned,
That money should be prized...
Of course their own lives,
Are going to be worthless to them.
Of course they are going to feel subservient,
From birth until their lives end!
When people are conditioned,
That money should be prized...
Those who get and hoard it best,
Will have others believe...
Their minds are at rest!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Entitled to Do This
To deny that their greed,
Has depleted all quality of life.
Is to admit that those homeless and starving...
Enforced by a few,
Feeling entitled to do this...
Had been acceptable and alright!
They've been clearly on a mission,
To diminish with racism and division.
And these acts have been barbaric.
Yet they have by them been cherished.
The plug has been pulled,
On once closed eyes now wide open.
They never conceived, perceived or believed,
They would someday become victims.
Or cloaked in their own deceit,
And left defeated and broken.
And even in the moments,
Nearing towards their end...
They still choose to point fingers,
At those long ostracized...
From a way of life,
They themselves have brought to an end.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sedated
It's time to dropp hopscotched ideals.
Limited in isolation...
Within the minds,
Of those locked in and boxed.
Guilt rides them with fear.
No sleep comes near them at night.
A contained anger,
Keeps them in beliefs...
Their way of life is right.
Although a solicited greed,
Has pushed them to the brink.
Fading values and standards,
Are spoken of as treasures...
With such a seriousness,
Their fixed eyes do not blink.
Their very existence relies,
On the marketing of decadence.
And once great foundations...
Are decaying more rapidly than common sense.
Guilt rides them with fear.
No sleep comes near them at night.
A contained anger,
Keeps them in beliefs...
Their way of life is right.
It's time to dropp hopscotched ideals.
Limited in isolation...
Within the minds,
Of those locked in and boxed.
Although a solicited greed,
Has pushed them to the brink.
Fading values and standards,
Are spoken of as treasures...
With such a seriousness,
Their fixed eyes do not blink.
As if they have been...
Sedated!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Left Vacant to Dust Like Useless Property
Minds burned out.
Thoughts displaced.
Those who fell asleep,
Awakened...
To find themselves,
Crawling on their knees.
Not remembering their own names.
OR who it was their pretensions should pleased.
Something happened overnight!
Could this be an infectious new designer disease?
To market after hyping minds to incite.
Something created in a laboratory...
And backfiring in a way,
That accidently misplaces an effective opportunity.
To have those who had once do the suppressing...
Witnessed in a mindlessness,
And left with no thoughts to express.
Is not as surprising as some might expect.
Poisonous minds...
Over time reflect this!
And left vacant to dust like useless property.
Could be the revelation on the horizon,
Those 'meek' of the Earth shall see?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Common Sense Is Missing
Common Sense?
If it is so common,
Why is it so rarely displayed?
People who succeed academically...
Sometimes find it hard to mix
With those who are suppose to lack
A worldly knowledge and quick wit!
Those who spend their lives in books...
May have minds of intelligence,
But few know how to cook!
Or know how to hold a conversation...
Without returning an 'all knowing' look!
With a raised eyebrow...
And a half smile crooked!
And common sense is missing.
That is realized before a word is said!
There is something about spontaneity...
Many find difficult to express from their heads!
Or able to exchange...
When brains are prepared to regurgitate,
Details obtained about 'historical' ancient remains!
And common sense...
If there's any left,
Is not expected to come from the lips
Of minds so far removed, dull and shamefully inept!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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They Can Not Live Without That Fix
MONEY
MONEY
MONEY
Less is the significance.
And the importance,
Of one's quality of life.
Once the having of money,
And the affect of it...
Became the impression,
One wanted to make.
To flaunt and have it,
And from their pockets drip!
MONEY
MONEY
MONEY
And the satisfaction teased,
Would increase with a taste...
For more of it.
Until those not having it,
Were quickly despised.
And with character assassinations...
There became a rise of ruined lives,
With deciet, lies and alibis!
MONEY
MONEY
MONEY
Drifting in mental fits,
Are those today being weened away from it.
Crazed in protests...
With voices raised demanding,
And with their minds splitting into pieces!
A feeding of greed has done this.
At the expense of their consciousness!
MONEY
MONEY
MONEY
And just like addicts!
They can not live without that fix!
MONEY
MONEY
MONEY
They want yours and mine!
And anything that looks like it!
MONEY
MONEY
MONEY
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Not Trying To Express Themselves To Others To Impress
Making attempts to reveal evidence that makes sense,
To someone convinced...
Those 'perceived' to live on the other side of a fence,
Are less than mentally skilled...
And easily dispensed by one's 'will'
Can be difficult to achieve...
When confronted by 'these' types of people.
Especially,
If those needing the exchange of information,
Have issues with their own incompetence being exposed.
And have a mindset that is conditioned to believe,
That those who clearly articulate as if highly educated...
Are not trying to express themselves to others to impress.
But wish to address the importance of current issues.
And one unexpecting such decisiveness directed,
Becomes appalled...
When someone of intelligence,
Identifies and shatters their pretentions...
Unintentionally.
And wanting with an accountability,
To correct defective matters.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Quick Possession
Insignificant they see themselves.
And a showing of this towards life as well.
Hollow and ungrateful feelings,
Taught and perceived by those whose beliefs...
Were dictated to them in environments,
Where they represent the people living in them.
Insignificant they see themselves.
Just like their parents who felt the same way.
With similar images of obtaining success,
As a quick possession of what they can get.
With a having of that which impresses,
No matter how easy such unrealities come to be lived.
Or what the judge says before sentencing them to prison.
A mindset fixed and conditioned to be self centered,
Is a mindset that lacks other values!
And those 'standards' by which they live...
Is obtained by the entertaining of decadence.
With such a marketing done that trivializes life...
And the significance of being human.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Harry the Wu
What can I do, Harry the Wu,
A policeman will come
And ask questions of you,
He'll pull out his book
And his pencil, too,
And look very sternly
At Harry the Wu.
Oh, Harry the Wu, what did you do,
While I was in bed
Going down with the flu,
I didn't get up until
Half past two,
And you're so impatient,
Harry the Wu.
I knew there was something that
I had to do,
I had to get up and feed
Harry the Wu,
That bowl in the fridge of
The left-over stew
Was meant for your dinner,
Harry the Wu.
Oh what can I do, Harry the Wu,
They'll probably lock you
Away in the zoo,
And then you will miss me
And I'll miss you too,
Life is a tragedy,
Harry the Wu.
I thought that you knew,
Harry the Wu,
That there are some things
You are not meant to do,
Now all that is left is
The Postman's shoe,
His hat and his bag
You have eaten them too.
What can I do, Harry the Wu,
You've ripped off the policeman's
Trousers, too,
You'd better go hide in
The chimney flu,
Stop wagging your tail at me
Harry the Wu.
13 April 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Inventive Thinking And Creative Ways
How can something so vital,
And necessary to the growth...
Of the minds to advance the education,
Needed for today's children to compete...
Be not a focus of those revealed,
To be graduating with degrees.
With a stimulation done to their imaginations.
But...
A stimulation needed,
Is said to be essential...
To their creative thinking process?
A cheating on tests,
Has yet to prove beneficial.
And today...
People find it difficult to address,
That those with performing arts as their background...
Are found flipping burgers,
Or waiting on tables.
When those discovered to be incompetent,
Irresponsible and lack accountablility...
Can not read nor write.
Or recite what has been written.
And yet...
Are hired to perform tasks for corporations,
That now confess...
They seek people who can read, write...
Do the math, entertain, produce AND direct.
But left to find this pool of talent,
Overseas.
What is missing in the minds of those,
Selected to have the qualities...
That determines they are qualified to lead?
Impressive looks?
Or is it image?
And everything created that has succeeded,
Has come from the minds of those...
Innovative enough,
To make lives more lazier today...
By their inventive thinking and creative ways.
And it is difficult to compete,
With those consistently keeping...
Their minds fixed upon staying in rhythm,
And in tune with the beat of things.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In Subdivisions of Sorrow
Depleted of reason to stand guard,
Behind erected fences...
Constructed to prevent hints of common sense,
To break them free of a stupidity,
Shielding them from their own happiness.
These vigilantes have grown tired of sightless threats,
Imposed upon them by fears implanted
Within minds long confined by unwarranted assumptions!
They have found no one with desires wanting to attack them.
They have discovered the unrest...
Coming from an isolation they were taught to believe
Others with envy sought to take away!
A way of life enriched by leeched resources.
Their misery results from a false and foolish perception,
A common grief they cherished was treasure to be protected!
They've come to realize their conflicts are their own.
And condoning them is not what others wish to share!
This is not the freedom perceived
By those who have chosen life free of imposed restrictions.
Or suppressed with opportunities to tax,
With burdens...
In subdivisions of sorrow that has lost its glimmer,
Sheen
And distant cravings!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Preferred Distractions
If you have recently discovered,
You have become one of many people...
Who have awakened to ask,
'What is going on? '
And you are dismayed and distraught by it?
Why concern yourself with the facts of life now?
Crawl back into your shell.
Denial hasn't kept you from redecorating.
And those in denial always find a way,
To address their beliefs to keep themselves...
In preferred distractions to attract whatever it is,
They stubbornly keep intact as a reality kept protected.
And who has the right to say,
A reality that affects the lives of everyone...
Is a reality everyone 'should' accept and MUST face?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Delusions Of Grandeur
You don't care about nothing
So you don't care about love
If you want me to come back
You'd better change
You'd better give up talking about money
Begin thinking of love
If you want me to come back
You'd better change
You'd better change for the better
It cost more than dollars and cents
Take it from me there's - got to be
An end to this decadence
This decadence
You don't care about people
So you don't care about pain
If you want me to come back
You'd better change
You'd better change for the better
Start using some common sense
Take it from me there's - got to be
An end to this decadence
For decadence - is fatal
It's the beginning of the end
In self-defense
I cannot recommend
This decadence
You don't care about real life
You're too distant and strange
If you want me to come back
You'd better change for the better
It may be rather intense
Stop this caprice, you've got to cease
This fin-de-siecle pretence
For decadence - is fatal
It's the beginning of the end
In consequence
I cannot recommend
This decadence
This decadence
This decadence
This decadence
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's Not Easy Being The Love Poet
'The Love Poet' that's what they call me
I admit it's flattering being the one and only
Other poets write love poems I will concede
But none with the emotion of mine, none indeed
But being the love poet has it's price
Everyone expects my work to be happy, be nice
If I ever feel lousy I can't write it down
Because reading it might cause the audience to frown
I'm not always Happy Harry I will admit
Every now and the, I really feel like shit
Depression a remnant of the life I left behind
Has found me again and has it's grip on my mind
But sad or not, I've a reputation to uphold
I write poetry that's warm and not cold
Push depression aside begin a new love poem
2nd draft I write on my way home
Every now and then, I will read a sad one
Which leads to another, what have I begun?
I want to make people smile not cry
And here I am reading qbout how I want to die
Even love poets have their bad days
Finding out today was the end of always
Without her, love poems just don't seem right
Neighbors hear you crying, long into the night
poem by Harry J. Couchon Jr
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Decadence
You don't care about nothing
So you don't care about love
If you want me to come back
You'd better change
You'd better give up talking about money
Begin thinking of love
If you want me to come back
You'd better change
You'd better change for the better
It cost more than dollars and cents
Take it from me there's - got to be
An end to this decadence
This decadence
You don't care about people
So you don't care about pain
If you want me to come back
You'd better change
You'd better change for the better
Start using some common sense
Take it from me there's - got to be
An end to this decadence
For decadence - is fatal
It's the beginning of the end
In self-defense
I cannot recommend
This decadence
You don't care about real life
You're too distant and strange
If you want me to come back
You'd better change for the better
It may be rather intense
Stop this caprice
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys from Disco 2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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People Who are Ignorant
People who are ignorant,
Have invested valuable time...
And money spent.
To prove their foolishness and ways,
Makes a difference.
Although these folks within their minds,
Have an absence of common sense.
And, are noticeably self destructive and crazed.
People who are ignorant,
Spend every dime spent...
Revealing their incompetence.
And taking direction from those who are right,
Is something they've never done.
Since deceit and decadence has been their main appetite.
People who are ignorant,
Believe an ability to thieve makes them great.
They believe their disasters started,
Shows their expertise and them being able to create.
But people who are ignorant,
Like these folks show they are and can be?
May seek an empathy from others for their stupidity.
But sincerity shown these empty headed 'entities'...
Is a waste of time.
Unless one wishes a suffering done endlessly.
However...
People who are ignorant,
Have been convinced their way of life...
Is one pursued by those who are jealous.
And are threaten because they are envied!
And standards they value,
Reflects upon them in a 'special' light.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Produce and Spread the Legitimacy
I've overheard some people to say,
How they have to work two and three jobs
To maintain their quality of life.
? ? ?
Yes,
I've questioned it.
Even as I thought about it, I was in question.
Working two and three jobs to maintain a quality of life?
And those 'bigwigs' on Wall Street,
Entitle themselves to luxuries and bonuses...
Stripping away 'generations' of folks?
Literally!
Forget the figurative!
These folks are high-falutin looters!
Just based on whether or not their company allows it?
Pocketing millions to accomodate their greed?
And they may not be seen in the office...
Or in the buildings where they have committed theft and fraud?
And folks have elected a government to represent their wishes?
These are their wishes?
To be dismissed like this?
Even some plantation owners left the land to the slaves.
To show their appreciation.
Whether that was from guilt or not...
That is yet to be debated.
Ladies and gentlemen...
I ask you this,
Anytime you have to adapt to slavery to maintain a quality of life,
Is that life?
Or bondage?
Harriet Tubman realized that many years ago,
When she was brave enough to smuggle some black people to Toronto.
You've heard of the Underground Railroad?
Not the restaurant.
The movement.
But those today are thrilled...
Ecstatic,
To show that ball and chain around their necks!
And brag about standards and values they condone someone else stealing!
While thumbing their noses and attitudes at others.
And not getting a wink of sleep,
Trying to keep what is being taxed.
And we all know if you stop paying taxes...
Who comes to take back,
What is claimed 'owned'.
This is the democracy we have been taught that is envied around the world?
Perhaps that is why a global economic crisis has been claimed!
There is just not enough people willing to kill themselves for it.
At least not at the expense of someone else's luxurious lifestyle!
But then again...
Even their greed has enforced limitations.
Now those in control are heard moaning about producing more loans.
Increasing credit limits.
To continue feeding a gluttony without cash being exchanged!
Folks it is there in your faces.
This is not made up stuff!
While kids fight to get into college.
Not for knowledge.
Would we be in these dire straits,
If folks were knowledgeable?
there is a greed perceived that is needed.
To keep this addiction thriving!
And costly are the fees for it!
Just as wars keep conflicts...
And fears assigned to terrorists!
All there to produce and spread the legitimacy,
Of this sickness.
It is the progress of a demented society!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Drifting To Shift Away
We seem to have been always great.
With the feeding of this,
Throughout generations.
And accepting nothing less,
Served to us on an overflowing plate.
Room that left opportunities,
To become better...
Did not exist.
Many had no time for this to fit.
Since what we were in our minds,
Was a perfection to be envied.
And a way of life,
That was hard to resist!
With an easiness to define.
And...
Defend with quickness.
We seem to have been always great.
With no tolerance for others...
That did not equal,
Or emulate the image.
With an appeasing done,
To uphold those preferenced druthers...
The chosen and elite believed one needed to meet.
Or challenge,
To be selected for defeat!
And still,
To this very day...
We express, we do, our dissatisfactions!
Becoming dismayed...
Towards those who are different in custom.
And mannerisms diversed in ethnic actions displayed!
To perceive a greatness understood...
Should and could become strengthened from within.
But,
Then again...
To ignore and rid of constant discipline...
With no attention given to it or its importance,
Will eventually find concrete foundations...
Crumbling into quarreling divisions.
With a hated directed and mentioned,
On everyone's lips.
Shared until it bores from familiarity.
Leaving 'this' ideal of a greatness to sit.
Until the memory of it drifting to shift away,
From a purpose...
Any purpose.
Fades,
As if...
Every thought of greatness was no more than a myth!
Like a victim of a tragic coincidence observed..
But left unassisted with an interest vanishing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Faith, Stamina and Endurance
When their worshipped nonsense is avoided,
There is a degree of offensiveness felt.
A wounding perceived has been inflicted.
And...
A pressure to share their ideals begins to ease.
Such self destructing ways as seen,
Are no longer felt as a need to become entrapped...
To a conformity regularly celebrated with hoopla.
Since one's hunger for that diminishes.
Like a permanent lifestyle change.
And a self indulgence adapted within minds...
Accustomed to dictated limitations,
Ceases to become a test of one's faith, stamina and endurance.
With a life chosen to live less influenced,
By a marketing of decadence...
Observed from the sidelines as the unconscious helps it thrive.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lessons To Be Learned
At one time,
I wanted so much to please.
And do it in a way,
To have those I wanted to smile.
Knowing, I did...
This is what I wanted.
And nothing else,
Did I have a need to flaunt.
But an aging done,
Has a way in the doing...
That helps one review,
Those steps one places.
And those times just being there,
For someone else...
Has fewer of their footsteps made,
Traced to express the same concerns.
No one ever says,
Lessons to be learned...
Come easy to absorb.
But those who teach them...
When they are finally learned,
The quality of the air seems fresher to breathe.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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