For No Apparent Reason
Those gifted with selected memories,
Never seem to admit...
Their presence at the scene of misdeeds done.
And yet can express to the minutest detail,
Of what someone else to them has inflicted.
As they were innocently being attacked,
For no apparent reason.
While they did the best they could,
To make attempts to comprehend the sense of it.
And this they wish,
With a re-telling of such events...
As convincingly as possible.
However...
There is just one problem in the doing of this.
There are too many people,
Making claims they had been victimized...
Randomly.
Without having any knowledge of their participation.
And the eyes of those who choose to remain sane,
Do their best to keep at distances invisible...
To the doings of those refusing any hints of reality.
Or the phenomenon of the presence of truth.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Whose Truth Is Reality?
Whose truth is reality?
And why are the many eyes focused upon it,
Seeing reality quite differently?
With many refusing,
To believe in any of it at all.
It is odd how those say they do know God exist.
With bragging rights about their religious affiliations.
But ask one of them,
When was it they stepped out of their way...
Based solely on their faith?
Do you get a look in return that offends?
Or...
Do you get a sermon to hear,
With scriptures quoted...
To make their beliefs understood.
And for some reason...
Their carrying a Bible should make that clear?
And that question you had asked,
Goes unanswered.
As an excuse is made,
To leave from your presence...
As fast as they came.
And under their breath you are called a name.
People are not up to that task.
Disguising 'your' reality...
They prefer to hide,
Behind 'their' masks!
Whose truth is reality?
Really?
And why are the many eyes focused upon it,
Seeing reality quite differently?
With many refusing,
To believe in any of it at all.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Just Your Presence Alone
Wherever you are going,
I am happy...
To have chanced upon your presence.
And it was here.
It is a thrill to remember.
You are full of life,
And irrestible energy.
The light within you is so bright,
It's radiance glows around you.
To witness it,
I know I've been blessed.
But if I may make one suggestion?
Do you see those untrimmed hedges,
Surrounding those wilting trees?
Do not make any attempts,
To add your sparkle to them.
Why?
I've seen attempts made in the past.
By those attracted to their sadness.
But around these parts...
Those attempts made will be resented.
Trust me.
What you see...
Most folks around here regard,
As their motivation.
Wherever you are going,
I am happy...
To have chanced upon your presence.
And it was here.
However,
Let me make this clear...
Do not spend years trying to convince anyone,
What you bring to offer...
Is inspiring and to their benefit!
Just your presence alone,
Poses to them a threat.
'You shouldn't be so negative.'
Negative?
You have no idea how positive I am.
I am one of few around here,
Willing to express the truth.
You stay here long enough,
You will find that out for yourself.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Truth Is Making Its Presence Felt
Truth is making its presence felt.
And there are so many,
Who have never dealt with it before.
Believing it to be destructible.
Like a steel fence built.
Or a wall to dvide,
Contructed of concrete.
Truth is as powerful as the air supplied,
One needs to breathe.
And born to ignore it...
Does not ceases its existence!
Truth is making its presence felt.
Much like Mother Nature has...
To those who have a concept,
That the Earth upon all leech...
Is not a living, thinking being.
And how this goes misunderstood...
Is beginning to awaken those asleep!
Truth...
Is making its presence felt.
And an acceptance of it,
Has not been left to debate...
For other choices to make.
Whether the message or the messenger,
Is disliked...
Will not soften the bite of truth.
Be prepared to swallow it!
Or be eatened up and gobbled!
Truth...
Not more variety of delusions,
Is making its presence felt!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Impressed By Those I Have Not Met
Why should I continue to ignore myself,
To value the opinions of others?
I use to do that and I stayed depressed.
If it appears I am selfish and self centered,
Perhaps I am deserving of my selfishness.
Maybe I earned it!
Others will not admit my sacrifices.
And I don't wear my heart on my sleeve,
For anyone to know to the degree I've sacrificed.
Others have used other tricks and devices,
To maneuver themselves into the spotlight.
One that is believed I seek and need.
They want to take credit for the steps I made.
Those who make claims to know me and don't.
While making attempts to convince themselves,
And others like them...
I had nothing to do with something I've been doing,
All of my life.
And that is to write!
To do it to impress others,
I have never thought about doing.
But I will admit I am impressed by those I have not met,
Who express they can 'feel' me!
While those who make claims they know where I'm coming from,
Judge on my appearance and the way that I am dressed.
And yet have not a clue as to what it is I do,
To get what it is I do done to make a difference for someone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Up On The Beat and Rhythms
Those validating a physicality,
As the utmost reality in their heads.
Are not into conversation.
They are seeking,
The next place to be seen.
Uncomfortable they are,
With themselves.
Or with an invisible presence,
Observing their every move.
Like the sense one gets,
When The Almighty pays...
An unannounced visit.
So...
These people choose,
Not to be alone for too long!
They want to be considered as...
Hip and with it peeps,
Up on the beat and rhythms.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Quality Of Retaliation
When I have heard to learn,
I have mistreated someone for no apparent reason.
And they were innocently chosen to be victimized,
For nothing wrong at all that was done.
Be aware of this...
The quality of retaliation,
Is not randomly done by anyone.
A repayment is often specific.
However...
If I've been accused for a mis-doing of 'this' or of 'that',
To anyone who has to chat to another,
Unknown to others as to what has been implemented...
That person no longer for me exists.
Especially someone who practices cowardice.
What would be the point to have folks believe,
They can do what they please to then leave...
With accusations they have been treated mean.
What would be the point to continue feeding such an ego,
Without nipping that nonsens,
From a stench someone is accustomed to smell and see grow.
Awareness clears the sky from all clouded eyes.
And alerts the mind to any malfunctions needing to be corrected.
A mouth split to speak from both sides of it,
Can be made to keep closed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Deeds Done They Do
I am not angered at all,
About what has happened.
I am embittered about how it happened.
And why it happened...
To involve someone who had no idea,
They had been selected to be victimized.
And those initiating these activities with lies...
Are still pretending their innocence.
They are still trying to convince those unknowing...
They had nothing to do with the incidents.
And they had been the culprits who plotted the events!
I am not angered at all,
About what has happened.
I am embittered about how it happened.
And the evilness of those who know,
They are involved!
I am not Sherlock Holmes...
So I could care less how that is solved!
And the bitterness I carry,
Will itself be resolved!
I am familiar with the environment
Of such wickedness and those of evil doings.
Choosing I have,
To ignore and resist it.
Truth is truth!
And does not remain concealed...
To protect those who chose to live,
Behind deeds done they do that are unreal!
They reveal themselves in time.
Their minds unwind in observation!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Keeping Alive Lives Lived to Fantasize
How can someone who claims to have faith,
Be quick to express fear?
I'm not understanding that at all.
Nothing about that makes it clear.
Or someone who has insecurities...
Expressing they choose not to comprehend,
Anything...
That will bring a clarity to them.
I don't understand those at all,
Who deny reality.
To say to others within listening distance...
What they see they can not believe.
But deceit they accept,
Without questioning its existence to reject.
And delude themselves they do...
With a resistance to accept the truth.
And everyone wonders why...
A quality of life,
Continues to ride on a downslide.
While keeping alive lives lived...
With wishes to remain completely fantasized!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Much More Than Just a Visit
Leave the scene,
With beliefs unchanged.
Unaccepting what is seen....
Prematurely!
By those declaring themselves,
With a normality they claim is sane.
And a reality fixed that upsets,
Does not weaken...
By the rejection of it.
Or mundane debates...
Determining if its existence,
Should or should not take place.
Everyone eventually pays,
For the presence of it that goes ignored.
Or the people shunned who persist to live uplifted,
By a higher consciousness...
Making a meaning,
Much more than just a visit.
An arrival comes with a permanence!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Overhearing How They Are From Others
Why do some people hold grudges,
And maintain negative attitudes...
Towards others who may not remember them.
Or may be a close friend,
Of the one innocently victimized?
This makes little sense.
But there is a reality of this in existence.
And many people have not met,
The ones they dislike and disrespect.
Just 'overhearing' how they are from others,
Is enough for some to pass their judgements.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Running Around Loose
People who have spent,
Years of their time...
Trying to convince some who do listen,
There has been others who have treated them...
With offending indifference.
And have done this to them,
For no apparent reason...
As their telling of this story begins.
Upon hearing this,
One should take two steps backward right away.
But these sympathy soliciting conversations,
Can be difficult to detect...
When a professional is in action.
They know just what to say.
These same people...
Seem to have no excuses to make,
Or alibis to offer...
When they are caught in the midst,
Of trying to sell new versions of their lies...
To anyone who had missed the originals.
But had forgotten who they were told to...
With a re-telling to include omitted names,
And what they did that was found to be horrific.
People who have spent,
Years of their time...
Trying to convince some who do listen,
There has been those who have treated them...
With offending indifference.
And have done this to them,
For no apparent reason...
Can be directly associated with,
Why there are so many mentally sick folks...
Running around loose yet appearing totally sane.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Know You Are Here
i know you are here
i have this sense of smell of a fox
a dog, a cat
and i smell your decency in your discreet
appearances
in the air in the atmosphere where you keep your silence
and secret
presence
you love me i know and you would have wanted to touch me
as i too
do
but the world has its own rules and laws of
nature
and physical dictates
its axis
its determined revolutions the way the zodiac
put the stars
you are at one end and i am at the other
we smell
each other's presence we sense each other's longings
even in a distance
of lightyears
of this interplanetary distances
yet i am the earth and you are the sky
i am the sun and you are the moon
you are the farthest star
and i am the pebble
thrown to the deepest part of the ocean floor
it is simply this memory that links us
something unfulfilled
the empty space
and the passing wind invisible always till the end of time
i feel the coldness of us
on the skin
of my cheek
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Practicing The Pointing Of Aging Fingers
All it had to take,
Was the admission of one's mistakes.
With the facing of one's wrongs.
To eliminate.
To have them then forgiven.
The dance with procrastination,
Became stronger when prolonged.
And for those who chose to remain hidden,
Behind created accusations unlimited...
A discovery found has occurred.
There were no escapes routes to warn,
Or printed on walls surrounding dead ends.
And...
Remembered loud voices exclaiming,
'I Told You So! '
Hand ended long ago.
Unfamiliar but too common,
Is 'that' reality one accepts...
That exhausts every delusion one has used,
To make more excuses.
To finally be left alone,
Practicing the pointing of aging fingers.
To leave those duped and once supportive,
Feeling ashamed...
They were picked and baited to believe false claims.
As the ones victimized by deceiving eyes,
Of expressed innocence used to lure others...
To navigate misdeeds done,
Have never shown themselves affected...
By the telling of lies directed to defame them.
In fact...
Such character assassinations,
Seem to have been to their benefit.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The invisible wisdom of God.........
Do we know the truth of heaven and our God's love?
Do we understand the knowledge of invisible wisdom of God?
We must understand that God's wisdom rests on the
foundation of spiritual practice of compassion and love
Learning spiritual power and prayers could make us
to realize the truth of heaven and God's love
We all born with God's love and care at the beginning
and the problem arises how to remain till our end
Our spiritual journey starts with understanding on God's trust
and continue with perception of God's precepts till the end
The spiritual perfection could be achieved not only by meditation
but also teaching others to reach the knowledge of wisdom
That is why God appointed wisdom as his goal for mankind
God loves his people and enjoy their knowledge in wisdom
and he feels proud of his rational creation on earth
Our choice is live with the wisdom to delight in God
or choose path of that leads to miserable life on earth.
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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Sentimental Love
Distances awake our sentiment
Distances always make us tear
Distances always make us fear
Distances take away the ones who are dear
Distances make us learn that people are dare to care
Distances make us understand the value of having lover ones beside
When they are gone away
When already they are not there
Distances are the remainders of love sentiments
They remind us how we do care
Sometimes unaware we neglect those we care
Those who are precious more then our eyes
But somehow the hardships of our lives
Make us neglect people we love
But when they're gone the longing inside us begin to cry.
Distances separate our bodies yet they bring our souls together
They make us understand the value of our real ones.
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Her Truth
Your truth claims to be a reality
While her truth is the reality
Your truth is just another fallacy
While her truth states actuality
Your truth tries to call her an insurgent
Just another agent
Trying to spread hatred
When her truth really speaks for those you have murdered
For those you denied existence
After they fought for their freedom
Went to the streets to express their position
And you accused them of being destroyers
Ended their lives like they worth nothing
Your truth tried to oppress them
Suppress their voices
While her truth spoke for them
Went to the squares screaming for their liberty
Fighting for their authority
Your truth is only believed by those who shared your earnings
Those who sold their souls for the Benjamins
Used religion, race and lies to serve your purpose
While her truth refused to take it all
Her truth was so pure it refused to sell the martyrs blood
Your truth has become so little
So her truth rose above it and took over the scene
Your truth was caught out
Your truth was discovered
More and more are finding her truth
Seeing the Real Truth
And yours, of course, just wished it would have listened…
poem by Jacob Arden
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Encouraged To Lie
Making it all up,
As they go along.
Most children do that.
Pre-fabricating,
With undeniable excitement.
Whether in the telling of their stories.
Or, In the singing of their songs.
And we listen to them.
Telling them how important it is,
To use their imaginations as gifts given.
With lessons we teach...
How significant it is to expand one's mind.
Some children do grow,
And break free from this practice.
Knowing when for them a reality begins.
And when an adolescence for them ends.
Some children do leave their immaturities behind.
Others remain to embellish their entire existences.
Confusing the difference between right and wrong,
In the telling of their stories.
Whether or not they are sung in songs.
And convincingly deceive to have others believe.
From dawn until night lingers on.
With a kept belief.
That their realities created,
Should not leave anyone upset.
Especially if their imagined realities,
Have brought a benefit that many later regret.
And the ones not understanding with a comprehension,
Are those who all their lives.
Have been encouraged to lie.
And in their minds they see no reason why,
This should not have been left to go on existing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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More than award
How long will you keep me waiting?
All troubles are in abundance and waiting
I keep staring at sky for some solution
I find no answer or formula for dilution
It is another name given for life journey
You may always be kept short of money
Sometimes it may be unwanted accidents
Sometimes attacked by near by residents
Love is repaid in form of rude attacks
Simple allegations to keep lot more at stakes
Life is simple made hell for nothing
I continue to pray for something
It is chosen path to remain committed
Slight mistakes in earnest always admitted
Not giving a single chance for people to resent
I avoid presence and try to remain absent
It is not running away from the scene
Sometimes you are implicated for being seen
It may be sheer coincidence for your being there
Still you will be forced to commit somewhere
Such events make you to think fresh
You are not a part still they try to trace
A tail leading to your involvement
You are harassed and feel sorry for such movement
How can you remain aloof?
Your innocence is not taken as proof
You are blamed for nothing
Even though you have said for everything
I have undergone trauma and suffered a lot
I have lost the war without being fought
I am not discouraged but feel so sorry
It adds to tension and worry
I can not leave the field as coward
I must think new and look forward
Even though I may not get reward
But the self satisfaction may be more than award
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Declining Comprehensions
Void of perception...
An introspection,
Some don't understand.
Many are inflicted with mind limits.
With no benefits...
To assist this supply,
That has gotten out of hand.
Face to face with truth,
Is useless without eye contact.
Saying something as fact...
Can not be backed up by heresay!
Yet
It happens
But it shouldn't!
Yet it does and can offer,
Considerations for conflict.
This is the kind of sick that is unaware,
Of it existing.
No one explores a better way.
Than the shutting down of borders,
And the closing of cracked doors!
Leaving everything to be driven,
Down the drain!
With claims of no one listening!
With an opened ear.
And everyone seems to fear,
Not being competitive in displaying more anger!
As we take seditives for this and that,
Just to keep ourselves...
Acceptably pretentious.
We do this consciously!
And self-righteously,
Standing in the path of others.
Those who beg for wanting less,
Than they already have!
Void of perception...
And how this rejection,
Stunts our very growth!
No matter who has been taught,
To pass judgements...
Based on declining comprehensions!
Every scene of this memoir,
In this age of reversing progress
Withessed,
And written about these times...
Will reveal detail upon detail,
A fast lip flipping delivery given.
A show of classic ignorance paraded,
With dignity and pride attached!
And masses attacked...
For disapproving this movement!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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As a Poet
The thing I like best,
About having the freedom to express...
As a poet,
Is this:
I can choose if so desired and wished,
To be objective about it.
Whatever it is I decide to write.
And in other heartfelt touching moments,
I let others find the meaning.
To take as long as time permits,
To uncover something subjective.
With a close inspection,
Of exposed sentiments.
And I don't have to be in their presence,
To agree or disagree.
Or even like it myself.
Since when anthing I have written,
Is explored for left clues and hints...
I have moved on to create,
Other 'works' that may or may not...
Make more or even less sense.
Like this 'one'.
Someone will find worthy of debate.
Or scan through to scathe.
If it is not found to appeal to an appetite liked.
But it will be re-read.
Because poems I write sits in readers' heads.
With an intent intensively.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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