From Safe But Yet Inquisitive Distances
Once a fresh new fragrance has been sniffed...
By those accustomed to experiencing,
A life adventured and explored!
It is understood how some can become overwhelmed.
If their steps have been hesitant in debate...
As a discussion takes place,
To uncover the benefits of something shown.
Instead of partaking in the unknown...
From safe,
But yet inquisitive distances!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Slipping of Meet Notes
Accustomed to lies.
What does the truth really mean?
Accustomed to lies laying low on the scene!
Accustomed to tell them...
And protect when told.
Accustomed to lies,
Whether fresh released or old held on hold!
Accustomed to lies...
Without a bat of an eyelash moving!
Accustomed to lies.
Dishonesty is accepted and shown.
At the work place
Where the slipping of meet notes,
Does not provoke disdain.
Accustomed to lies...
And that's how our lives remain!
In heated sex away from home!
Regardless of who spies on another,
Both buffer their suffering by what's condoned.
Accustomed to lies...
And what is taught is always known!
Accustomed to lies.
Accustomed to holding on to them,
Until time flys!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ubiquitous
Being one who observes is a benefit.
Life is to be experienced and adventured,
To gain insight.
Many express no wish to stretch.
Finding a comfort in a daily sameness.
A routine that flows in a rotation.
And this for them is the best.
Being everywhere is also ridiculous.
Is it?
Is the mind 'that' tremendous?
Is it possible to comprehend,
From ubiquitous activities that see no end?
Those who achieve knowledge and wisdom,
From travels they mention...
Seem to be aware of everything.
And this is what experiencing means and brings.
At least lives and possibilities are being explored.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Enjoyed
If we should never meet...
To greet or see one another eye to eye,
Know this...
We are experiencing to witness,
This life we have been given...
Together.
We are visitors in this moment and time.
Acknowledging the unimportance,
It is to define or uncover the reason or rhyme.
But to find a common bond to share.
And appreciate the breathing of fresh air.
With the understanding you and I are here.
Commited to achieve,
The very best we can be!
If we should never meet...
To greet or see one another eye to eye,
Know this...
We are experiencing to witness,
This life we have been given...
Together.
And for whatever reason,
We may never get to touch...
Know this...
What is kept in our minds and hearts,
At this time...
Is enjoyed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Equipped With One's 'A' Game
The road most traveled,
And one that is familiar on a daily basis...
Is the one that creates,
The biggest challenge few are left to debate.
It is too easy to take for granted,
That which one believes is well known.
And to stay awake and remaining equipped
With one's 'A' game...
Is something one accustomed to obstacles,
Has shown time and time again.
It only takes one mistake,
To ruin the flavor of an expected taste...
Of one's favorite cake and that's all it takes,
For one to regard a whole day a major catastrophe.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Existing As Is and Not Wished
I pray everyday to understand the unknown.
To grasp onto sensibilities.
Shown.
Hoping to uncover a hint of relevance.
With a belief something done,
Is making sense to someone...
Somewhere.
In this mental collective,
Referred to as 'consciousness'.
Or an interpretation of it.
Finding an acceptance.
If not present in my own environment,
To exist as is.
Beyond values given,
To preposterous myths.
With an awakening of a consciousness...
Experienced!
And not wished as a possibility.
Many choose to ignore.
But available to those curious.
And motivated with ambition.
Discovered as relevant.
To be explored.
And not chased away by superstitions,
Employed.
To limit a life one decides,
And has a right to live enjoyed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Now I Nibble
Where are my feet?
Once placed on solid ground.
Why am I now unsure of my steps?
When my eyes were directed,
To fresh places I found.
Why do I question,
My place in this World?
Where are those faces...
Once full with life,
I knew!
What has happened overnight,
When I once felt safe and secure...
My dreams and wishes,
Would stay fixed and motivated.
Strong with appetite!
Now I nibble...
When once accustomed to huge bites.
Now I nibble without a taste that delights.
Now I nibble just to keep my eyes,
From shutting tight!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cut and Separate Quick to Split
There are those who believe themselves chosen,
To hold up the process of one's life.
They are the ones who elect to be understood...
With no comprehension or faith to do things.
Not the way they should be done.
Unless they have a say...
In which way they decide,
What has to be done for them is right.
And something that initiates,
A feeling of false pride.
Even though what gets done,
Is at a time that arrives too late for some.
With an expectation for others they delay...
Should sit and wait with a patience,
That has become frayed.
Strained and frazzled.
Or...
They wish to debate uselessly,
Over that which should have taken place.
And wasting as much time as they can,
To be understood!
'For goodness sake!
I am not the cause for this reaction! '
When folks like this,
Began to flaunt excuses to abuse and disrespect...
Never acknowledge what it is that they do,
Because from you they will determine...
You have become accustomed to their neglect!
And from you expect apologies.
Sever yourself from these kinds of people.
Cut and separate quick to split...
From this addicting BS.
And have none of it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Weight It Takes
The weight it takes,
For me to place my steps...
Will still be mine to make,
When and where I do it.
When and where I do it!
Chicago or on the shores of South Africa.
At the tip of its cape.
Or on the dunes of Cape Cod.
The weight it takes,
For me to place my steps...
Will still be mine to make,
When and where I do it.
When and where I do it!
In my own comfort zone.
Alone in my home.
Or if I decide to roam the streets,
Of Paris, France.
Whether I dance with abandonment...
Barefoot on floors,
Or receiving awards for recognition...
For something done,
My labors won!
The weight it takes,
For me to place my steps...
Will still be mine to make,
When and where I do it.
When and where I do it!
And when and where I choose to do it...
This will not be a decision of yours!
The weight it takes,
For me to place my steps...
Will still be mine to make,
When and where I do it.
When and where I do it!
And only God can see to it,
With blessings He has given!
And not when 'you' see fit,
That this is allowed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Don't Let My Confidence Offend
Please,
Don't let my confidence offend.
I did not always place my steps,
With such self assurance.
And when I first met my own arrogance,
Even I became overwhelmed...
With the flaunting of it.
My experiences and indifferences from others,
Witnessed.
Did this to me.
And when I discovered my own identity,
Well...
People were quick to abandon my honesty.
And so difficult it was for me to let them go.
Please,
Don't let my confidence offend.
I did not always place my steps,
With such self assurance.
And when I first met my own arrogance,
Even I became overwhelmed...
With the flaunting of it.
However...
Becoming use to it I've done.
You don't have to.
And this I completely understand if you don't.
But compensating where I am for you?
To show it can be done at your satisfaction?
Is not going to happen. Period. With no explanation!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Understood To Exclude Them From Truths
When one gets too accustomed,
To embellishing what they've done...
Partial truths are told.
To bestow as shown to everyone.
Quick to betray,
If their insecurities are threatened.
But yet to display,
Are their excuses made with few exceptions.
Associations with people like this,
Over time decreases in respect.
Explanations of their neglect...
Eventually from them some should expect.
When one gets too accustomed,
To embellishing what they've done...
Partial truths are told.
To bestow as shown to everyone.
Maturity is dismissed,
In the minds of people with this addiction.
And it is unfortunate they allow themselves...
To be chased away by delusions.
With a praying done their delusions will stay,
To be understood to exclude them...
From truths they painfully detest.
And hate to face from day to day.
As a life lived in reality eventually fades.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Baited To Fear Everything Unknown
Being perceptive is rarely accepted,
When associating with others...
More accustomed to neglecting,
Their own thought process.
To rely upon what comes to comfort.
And is easily for them to quickly access.
Sharing insight with those less connected,
Will often initiate an unwanted debate.
To prove what is perceived not yet to be seen,
Will actually take place and on a specific date.
Especially with those who are baited to fear,
Everything unknown but claim to have faith!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What I Do Know
I'm not into pretense.
Or perceive elements of its benefits.
I see none.
Masquerading one's feelings,
To later expose them behind one's back...
Is sooo,
Uncool!
And those who do it,
Are sooo...
Unattached from integrity.
I could care less how many Bibles,
They quote scriptures from.
These folks are gutter dwellers.
I'm not into pretense.
Or perceive elements of its benefits.
I see none.
I've been accused of being embittered,
For expressing the anger felt...
From those experiences that brought tragedy,
Into my life.
And quickly I admit it.
Yes.
And my rebuttal about that?
If you don't want to know...
Don't ask!
A rule I use...
To free myself from fools.
I've been told I appear too happy,
With a lack of empathy shown to others.
I can express it.
Yes.
Empathy when given...
Is empathy at its best when expressed.
But becoming overwhelmed by depression?
How does that benefit,
My attempts to get away from it?
Why sit with someone wishing to serve pity?
However...
I do recognize my peace of mind.
How I got it.
When I got it.
And who has yet to arrive...
To be grateful they are alive.
And my life is not on hold!
To wait to behold the beauty of it.
That's what I do know.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Red And Green Sky
There’s a place I’d never thought I’d show ya
It’s been so long since this space was found, as
We as people, walk with our heads firmly in the ground,
But at the end of the day your heads held up and away
So follow my steps and I’ll show you,
It’s not all the same at the end of the day, I promise you
Do you notice the sky up ahead?
“Where have all the greys and blues gone
You said, nothing looks the same”
But you’re in an unknown place,
A place with no need to name,
Underneath the red and green sky
Upon a mountain cliff, made of gold
You life played out before you,
A picture of revolving, glowing mold
Then whisked off into the sky, you left,
Whereabouts too is unknown,
Into the red and green sky you head,
Maybe being shown a brand new start
Away from the pain of life, where
Things start to make sense once again,
Now you see your life mend then blend
Into the red and green sky you went.
Returning regally re-dressed, you seem renewed,
The red and green sky did again, I thought.
As you stood, amazed by the truth, you spoke,
“Never to be the same again, never again”
We shared some strawberry wine,
To amuse ourselves
We drink to ourselves, to the sky
Underneath the red and green sky again
This is a place I’d never thought I’d show again
It’s been so long since this space was found
A place with no need to name,
Underneath the red and green sky, we came
poem by Daniel Richards
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Understanding is only misunderstanding
When you say
“I understand”
You simply confess
That you are only trying
To understand
And you affirm
To guard against
Misunderstanding
Though this may not be true
In a technical discussion
This is always true
When attempts are made
To evaluate issues
Pertaining to minds and emotions
Let us admit
We have not understood
Any one and
Any of the thought processes
Associated with any individual
How many of us
Have understood our parents?
How many of us
Have understood our spouses?
How many of us
Have understood our brothers
And sisters?
How many of us
Have understood our sons
And daughters?
How many of us
Have understood our customers,
Employers and employees
Bosses and sub-ordinates
More you are confident
About these understandings
More likely
You have misunderstood them
Do not ever claim
That you have
Understood others
As you now understand
That
Understanding is only
Misunderstanding
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Doing It Some Good
It took years to close a door
that should not have been opened.
Now that the action has been finalized...
There is knocking.
To gain entry.
There is a curiousity,
As to 'how' needs are met...
Without a concern shown or a help request.
It's not understood.
The action taken,
Did the one doing it some good.
A seriousness done shook up the ones
Accustomed to a life of jokes and fun!
And the one who took this action...
Showed them a happiness,
Did not need them to exist!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This is heaven to no one else but me
In this place
I am safe
Safe from other opinions
The expectance to have courage and grace
Here in this place
I can be afraid
Of the words I want to say
But never will
In this place
I can be honest to my heart
I can’t lie and say I’m fine
In this place called heaven
The heaven that is only mine.
A place of broken grace and
The place of unknown time.
The title of this poem is a copy of the lyric from elsewhere by sara mclaughlin.(sorry if spelled incorrectly)
poem by Dying Iris
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Outdated Praise
My experiences seem to peak...
When treated,
With the fresh flowing...
Of creativity at its birth.
Arriving on Earth from the unknown.
For redundant examinations!
To expose myself to repeated visits,
With wishes to be affected,
As expected...
By those who make attempts,
To re-invent an exposed fresh flow.
Is for me too conforming.
With a 'boring' done and shown!
It for me is like trying to find new ways,
To tie shoes...
I've known have worn out.
And doing my best to develop an interest,
In the activity.
Although they may comfort my steps,
When I walk about.
The wear and tear is there to express this!
My need to be excited by innovation,
Is not comprehended by those...
Seeking to authorize a familiarity!
To eventually announce an acceptance,
With outdated praise.
To those subjected to limited vision...
This is okay.
Who am I to say it isn't?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Exquisite Details May Be Missed
Returning from a visit,
Of unleashing inquisitive explorations.
Experiences alone adventured,
Does not fulfill.
Without someone with them to share.
Observations can be communicated,
But the exquisite details may be missed.
Especially if what one sees to witness,
Is interpreted to be depicted.
As an embellishment wished and not lived.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Uncover The Truth
Sometime I think life is over,
But when I look behind your eyes I can uncover the truth you hide,
The lies you told me,
The things I believed,
But you never knew I can uncover your lies you have told me,
Uncover your dirty little secret you hide,
The deaths you have upon me will never end,
The lies you have told others will never end,
Its hard to believe the one you love can lie to you and shatter your heart into million pieces,
I have uncover the truth I seek,
Uncover the hate I feel,
You lead me to believe you are the one I love,
Lead me to think I loved you,
But in the end I get my heart broken.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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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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