Fresh Fingerprints
This healing will not be sexual.
Nor will decided preferences of discretions,
Be considered as submissions...
To capture imaginations.
Not on this list,
One might wish to solicit.
What approaches is more atmospheric.
Touching lives of everyone near it!
A toxic mist hovers and visits.
And a descending mixes...
To stir those transfixed.
A repayment of what has been done comes.
Affecting those who directed...
Their infectious flavored addictions!
Delivered to seduced those reduced to cravings.
A repayment of what has been done comes.
And now people sit,
Stunned with glazed eyes and affixed...
To quickly barren cupboards.
Where dusts collects,
To show fresh fingerprints!
A repayment of what has been done comes.
As a silent fear on faces appear!
And frozen in place is a once fast pace.
Quickly erased are separating boundaries...
Remembered as clear and vivid!
Those less fortunate and of obvious lack...
Are witnessed now to be turning their backs!
'What has happened?
An economic pay back attack? '
A repayment of what has been done comes.
And those who fed their greed...
Now find themselves without shelter.
Empty shelves!
And to their lack of bolstered credit...
A depleting of it with nothing left to feed.
No where is there to run or hide.
To cry in anguish with anyone empathetic.
Pathetically the bleeders weep.
Pleading for a restoration...
Of needed pretensions desperately sought,
To mask and strengthen weakened insecurities.
A repayment of what has been done comes.
And shocked they are how deep this incision!
How horrific the deceit.
How madness creeps upon them at night.
To drive them sobbing in guilt to their knees!
With no nights to come,
To welcome them to rest in peaceful sleep!
And dug are their fresh fingerprints,
As they crawl in a socialistic sweep.
Devoured like vagrants on urban streets!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Pay Up
So pathetically crazed.
From day to day they contradict their ways.
They wish their safety,
As long as someone else is delayed.
And when a perception their security is weak...
Immediately they accuse the government,
Of not doing its best to protect their manicured...
And suburban profiled streets.
So pathetically crazed,
They accuse the current administration...
Of being too much in their lives.
And these same people have claimed recently,
The government should spend more...
To ensure their interests are not terrorized.
So sick with thick self righteousness,
These same folks wish for economic bliss to exist.
While living lives indebted...
To unpaid loans,
And fantasies charged to overwhelming credit.
So pathetically crazed.
From day to day they contradict their ways.
And they just don't get it!
No one is left who is willing to hold their breath...
For repayment or an extension to prolong delusions.
And those in control of those foreign banks,
Are simply saying, 'Pay up! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There is no duty more obligatory than the repayment of kindness.
Korea's early repayment of the full amount of loans from the IMF is a major milestone.
quote by Horst Koehler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I would also certainly continue to keep loan repayment interest rates as low as possible. And I would spread the financial aid a little less thinly across all income brackets.
quote by Charles Vest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Repayment for Sins
Those who feast and nest on greed,
You still have time to sacrifice indulgences.
Crimes that led to spread hunger and pain,
Will spare no sympathy in dimensions revealing.
Those who believe to conquer is to win,
Will find themselves in corners trapped without exits.
Monitored we are by 'angels' who observe us!
Judgements have been issued...
And repayment for 'sins' have started to begin!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A man's indebtedness is not virtue; his repayment is. Virtue begins when he dedicates himself actively to the job of gratitude.
quote by Ruth Benedict
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kindness
The one that showed me kindness
Was the one that taught me kindness
Though I did not recognize it
Still I might have died without it
And when I awakened
It was too late to thank her
If I live someday Ill make repayment
And show someone the kindness she showed me
When my voice grows strident
When I feel important
Im reminded of that kindness
And where Id be without it
Im learning my lessons
It may take me a lifetime
Give me strength to justify my being
And show someone the kindness shown to me
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paving Roads Of Negativity
Naysayers have begun to lose,
Their influential ways of paving roads of negativity.
More people begin to see,
Evil inflicted intentionally on the decrease.
And the truth of those who have done good deeds,
Are witnessed to be surviviing...
From the smothering activities of those who had deceived.
Naysayers have begun to lose,
Their influential ways of paving negativity.
And their portrayals of themselves as victims in distress,
Have exposed their treachery once a tool used successfully...
No longer can hide,
Their mental and physical crippling pains.
Shown to be repayment for their evil claims now upon them aimed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Packed With Ammo
Packed with ammo.
The kind to settle scores,
Discreetly.
When one has been annoyed,
To a brim that overflows...
It is best to keep,
A repayment unexpected.
Just to ensure,
The unbelieving receiver knows...
Actions of deception exposed and known,
Have been delivered at the wrong doorstep.
And will not be accepted,
For a continuation of visits.
To nip this in the bud,
Has a way of showing quivering lips...
A one on one presentation,
Means a resolving of serious business meant.
Packed with ammo.
The kind to settle scores,
Discreetly.
With a face to face acknowledgement,
As to what and will must come to an end.
'I understand there was something done I did,
You disliked.
And I've come to hear what it was I did to do,
From you.
I'm not into hearsay or hand-me-down gossip.
There is something about direct comprehension,
I like to get understood.
You have a moment?
And let's keep this between us.
Okay?
Who knows...
We may even come to agree.
Nothing more would please me.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The One Who Leads
We the people...
Seem to become influenced,
By nonsense competitions.
Especially those that come to leadership.
If any wishes to acknowledge who is winning
Anything pertaining to the quality of one's life lived...
Needs only to be more observant.
And if that does not satisfy...
One needs only to contact those owed.
They will be quick to tell anyone,
Whose debts have yet been paid!
And give names.
They tell who leads,
In the repayment department.
The one who eats and feeds without concern...
Of receiving aggravating telephone calls,
From creditors.
Is the one who leads!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Enactments
Now that their feelings of betrayal...
And being disgruntled,
Have a rawness about it...
They believe there is a commonness,
Left to express those displeasures...
With those historically distressed.
Those they would normally regard as pests!
And that was just...
Yesterday!
With their duress confessed,
During these suppressed times...
They seem to quickly display,
A discomforting selfishness...
They wish would go away,
To unwind and leave behind.
Like keys left with the butler or maid.
If not for temporary and sentimental reasons!
When the times were good for them...
They would not be seen,
Appearing in daylight...
With 'those' disadvantaged on urban streets.
Exposing their faces on such scenes.
And rubbing shoulders,
With these 'underlings' they meet!
'These surroundings?
How gouache.
Tasteless.
And so unbecoming! '
They would have ignored them,
As not being among those blessed!
They would have compared their separateness...
By comparing acquired materialism,
That kept them feeling falsely blessed.
But somehow their current fellowship expressed,
Seems more like a pretentiousness hiding a desperation.
And spreading a shallow attempt,
To solicit empathy from those who can least afford it.
Those who know who 'they' are!
And why they have been kept by 'them' suppressed.
Those things they once had,
No longer provides the escape...
From their insecurities now exposed.
So they have 'chosen' to be amongst the poor.
To uplift a hollowness...
Left from a loneliness of an emptiness felt.
Somehow,
This can not be easily erased.
Or from them now to go ignored.
Or replaced...
As one awaits for delivered luggage,
To leave quickly a bad vacation.
Especially when faces of a different hue...
Reminds them of a racistness they inflicted,
And kept in place to subdue...
In brutal disrespect.
Who knew these times would be so stinging.
Leaving so many unprepared?
To unpack cares and fresh hints of concern.
Now 'they' appear as if in research...
Seeking a way to find a comfort.
One that is not as demeaning as seen,
Or vividly portrayed...
By those who seem professional,
Recreating enactments placed upon them...
To do that poverty 'thing'
Done so well!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Whispery Hollow Transfixed Awe
A Vow In Making
A Venture Forth Back
A Fallen Innocent
Gave Rise To Fallen Hearts
Arise The Sadness
An Isolatory Night Glimmer
Upon A Night Full Of 'A.I.'
Filled The Night Sky
As Everything Grew Dark
But Alight Of A Face
A Whispery Hollow Of Me
In Being Driven The Opposite Way She Was Forward
A Moment's Glimpse Transfixed
Upon A Night Drive Back
Transfixes My Sadness
Of A Vow Affixed In Promise
A Vow One Night To Return
In Seeing Her Upon Happenstance
A Madness Grew From A Silent Vow
To Fill Her Hollow Empty Of A Boy
In Hesitation To Fulfill A Vow In Having Made
Increase OF Guilt For An Unfulfilled Love
In Fathering A Future Child Made Ephemeral
Forgotten Night Glimmer Ten Years On
Remembered Now In Looking Forward
Transfixed Sadness Of A Whisper Upon A Night
Vow Of Grandeur Defined With Sadness
Of A Vow Of Marriage Within A Dream
poem by Ricardo Antunes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nouveau Riche
I’d rather be a nouveau riche
than some impoverished veteran.
I’m looking for a nouveau niche
that’s hopefully a better ’un
than that which I now occupy,
without resources that the rich
have, whether old or nouveau––I
don’t really think it matters which.
Too long I’ve been a nouveau poor.
It isn’t fun, you don’t get used
to poverty, the only cure
that gives my poverty a boost
is taking out new credit cards
that have a pleasing plastic glow,
ignoring all the crass canards
I hear from those to whom I owe
a fortune. They must know I won’t
repay them––can’t when nouveau poor!
Repayment cannot be my wont
till I have nouveau riche allure
to help me keep up with expenses,
impoverished by nouveau schemes.
Till creditors come to their senses
I can’t fulfill my nouveau dreams,
a man who, though a nouveau poor,
would rather he were nouveau riche,
though unrealistic, to be sure,
more real than those men who eat quiche.
12/27/99,3/30/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Can You Explain to Us Your Intent?
There are over two million citizens incarcerated,
In their prisons...
For crimes committed.
Most children schooled are illiterate.
Although masters of hip hop, finger popping...
And groove to rhythms,
Given to beats nonstop.
The marketing of decadence is a vision unseen.
Since a discipline inflicted,
Has long left the scene.
And the people are outraged.
Because a new president wishes to have
Their dreams upgraded.
To study and value what they learn.
But 'something' about this approach,
Has many parents concerned.
'President Obama can you explain to us,
your intent?
Why is your message unlike other presidents?
That came into office to leave with few listening.'
~I believe our children need to be motivated.
To perform much better! ~
'Yes, that we understand.
However...
We view this as a twist,
Of something hidden on your agenda.
Something to introduce...
That is socialistic.'
~I see!
Well...
Just let me say this.
Our debt is unwritten by the Chinese.
And many still are unaccepting of them as communist.
And we import their products with limited resistance.
Do you prefer our children to at least be able
to compete with them?
Or, would you prefer the Chinese make demands...
For repayment we speak chinese?
And they allow us to stay on 'their' land.
Keeping our pretentions to ourselves.
I can make this more specific,
If you wish it? ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sweet Cowardice
Traveling in packs,
And out to seek thrills.
Boasting to boost punk temptations...
To bully someone,
To show sweet cowardice skills!
Chumps in secret gatherings,
To promote horrors unsuspecting!
Sneaking around like rats...
Creeping,
To attack anyone,
With a turned back!
Thinking these folks have no backbone,
For that kind of surprising entrapment,
By creeps unleashed!
Taught by bigots to pick on the weak.
Thinking those defenseless...
Are easy prey to overwhelm and defeat!
And yet your insecurities,
Show clearly through deceit!
But you stay away from those
Grown to adapt on urban streets!
Why?
Do you think you and yours would be beaten,
As a treat?
Hmmm...
Thugs eventually find themselves locked up,
In prisons cells where they all seem to meet!
Picking this time...
Fresh young butt to discreetly seek,
When the guards patrolling fall to sleep!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Full Impact of Horror in War (Acrostic)
Functioning is difficult when in shock
Untimely end has come for all
Lack of food
Lack of hope
I see no bravery only fear, only pain
Men kill, men die
People struggle to survive
Aid is needed everywhere
Courage is needed in the hopeless
Time passes slowly, too slow
Outside is unsafe
Families are blown apart
Honour is all we have left
Obvious pain shows on all faces
Rich and poor people suffer the same
Running away has become normal
Our lives are destroyed
Ruin has commenced
poem by Lenore Lee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With A Defying Against Any Of The Evidence
To do something done unconsciously to another...
And to have that act returned with a consciousness delivered,
As intended!
Says this as witnessed...
There is no sense made in a display of one's offense.
And yet offended people become,
When given exactly to them what they had initiated.
And done.
With one thing missing.
A lack of acknowledging their involvement.
And an applied selective memory,
That removes them from the scene of a crime committed.
A common hit and run done claimed by someone caught,
To have known nothing about what has happened.
With a defying against any of the evidence.
Pictures, fingerprints...
Food stains and crumbs on lips.
And the habit of their daily routine.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inside 'The House
If you are one,
To profess a faith...
Said is deep in God.
But a fear kept and limited,
Daily sits with you...
And warmly visits.
Put yourself on the hypocrite list!
And keep this in mind...
When you discover a scripture,
Delivered quickly from your lips.
Especially one easily remembered.
To find and repeat all the time!
One short and sweet.
And often rhymes.
Anyone with claims,
To have a faith in a 'Spirit'
With awesome power,
To lift their lives from burdens.
And able to gift them with blessings!
Who and what does one like this,
Try to convince?
When 'that' which is The Almighty...
Is constantly aware and listening,
For evidence of it.
Perhaps they view God,
Like many are prone to do.
From a pew on Sunday.
With a routine to follow through!
And name dropping to impress.
Yet being totally disconnected.
But hoping what is expressed...
Gains them an expectation of acceptance.
With quotes, notes and a nod from other folks.
Who like them...
Believe God is listening more intently!
Since they are inside 'the house',
Historically rumored and reported...
God lives in!
And He does not come out!
Or know a thing about them.
Or their pretensions to be...
More than the hypocrites they've been.
And He has known this from the beginning.
Since this they have insisted,
To choose and show to Him.
And even in their confessions,
This Deity remains unimpressed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wife of Flanders
Low and brown barns, thatched and repatched and tattered,
Where I had seven sons until to-day,
A little hill of hay your spur has scattered. . . .
This is not Paris. You have lost your way.
You, staring at your sword to find it brittle,
Surprised at the surprise that was your plan,
Who, shaking and breaking barriers not a little,
Find never more the death-door of Sedan --
Must I for more than carnage call you claimant,
Paying you a penny for each son you slay?
Man, the whole globe in gold were no repayment
For what you have lost. And how shall I repay?
What is the price of that red spark that caught me
From a kind farm that never had a name?
What is the price of that dead man they brought me?
For other dead men do not look the same.
How should I pay for one poor graven steeple
Whereon you shattered what you shall not know?
How should I pay you, miserable people?
How should I pay you everything you owe?
Unhappy, can I give you back your honour?
Though I forgave, would any man forget?
While all the great green land has trampled on her
The treason and terror of the night we met.
Not any more in vengeance or in pardon
An old wife bargains for a bean that's hers.
You have no word to break: no heart to harden.
Ride on and prosper. You have lost your spurs.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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