Getting Down and Funky, Staying Low and Earthy
The first time I made attempts,
To be mature and endure those who weren't.
In my neighborhood,
Of aging children.
My attempts did not work.
In fact they provoked those who chose,
To remain irresponsible.
And had not yet been introduced,
To accountability.
Something they accuse others for not doing.
You know.
Those and them,
Who are suppose to care about us.
More than we care for and about ourselves.
Those conversations are still used to convince,
The many loitering around playgrounds.
Seeking to play their familiar games.
Today with age and maturity experienced.
I come into contact with those refusing to make sense.
Those who believe life is a telling of an endless joke.
And laugh at the keeping of their insecurities hidden,
Behind masks that change with fashionable fads.
And I observe their children who are no longer 'kids'.
Many are limited to an ignorance lived.
And they are raising their offspring to disrespect.
As I witness those of us now elders.
Doing our best to break a sweat,
Getting down and funky.
Staying low and Earthy.
As if this is an investment we hand over to a future.
With expectations that a quality of life diminishing,
Will deliver us to a consciousness to grasp overnight.
There's not enough praying on knees that can be done,
To awaken those with nothing but time and lives to waste.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Aging Excuse Making Children
Difficult and with stress it is,
To be an adult.
And live in an environment surrounded,
By old and aging excuse making children.
Difficult to know it is who is being responsible,
And who to hold accountable...
For the raising of disrespectful kids,
Found totally without initiative or discipline.
It is so hard to maintain one's patience,
And make attempts to explain...
Even to those who appear to have brains,
What the benefit of staying motivated is.
And if one should expose to show concern,
With sincere understanding and comprehension...
One has learned from experience,
This is interpreted as trying to be better than the others.
And eventually...
The one who has grown to be that mature adult leaves,
To keep a nurtured peace of mind...
And those perceptions aging children keep to believe,
Alone for them to condone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Adolescent Deeds
Spoiled children encouraged,
To sit and witness their siblings...
Restricted from doing things,
They believe can be manipulated eventually...
Will make attempts to do anything.
If this means to them,
A getting of an attention given.
Believing with an 'innocence',
A 'cuteness' is determined.
But some children grow.
To leave behind their childishness.
With a learning not to disrespect.
Or expect child-like tantrums accepted,
Without someone rejecting their selfishness.
To then make claims of being neglected,
When left to be held accountable...
For actions that reflect,
Immaturity at its best.
And as aults who have aged,
These same 'children' become insulted.
When others too mature no longer will endure,
With a tolerance depleted and absent to feed...
Spoiled children encourage,
To perform adolescent deeds.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Seeking Immortality
There is a redundancy reviewed.
And kept as fresh...
As if it is the next best thing!
Like the renewal of something staged and seen.
To keep those memories alive....
Of those times lived one survived.
There is a stale repeatedness,
Offering little originality.
As if a creativity...
Is feared by those seeking,
Immortality.
Hidden behind,
Quick touches for lust.
And the uselessness of reliving,
Times never to return.
May be one of the reasons why...
The thought of living in the 'now' as it is,
Leaves many hungering...
For clocks to stop.
And time backwards to turn,
Or cosmetically for some to want to try.
When they relied on others,
To be accountable in days long gone.
So they could live their lives,
As irresponsible kids.
With the innocence of chaos...
To inflict and carry on.
Like many immature today,
Still make attempts to do.
As they yesterday did when they hid...
In places to keep from facing the truth!
You know how children play peek-a-boo?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Already built
Time cycle may repeat and change
We got to be aware and manage
You have come off with the age
Knowledge is limitless and can’t be confined to cage
The advice sometimes may fall on deaf ears
They may learn later with passing of years
The nature may not change as that of sun and moon
They may have full knowledge of it soon
Parents have to take little care
The children should be made fully aware
We push them before the idiot box
Only to realize that it is hoax
Children may preserve nature
As they will see without it no future
Something may prove its futility
They will turn absolute things in good quality
The may not have ground to play
They may be staying little away
Yet they got to match with changing world
World should remain within their reach and fold
Today life may be meaningless if you keep aloof
You need no witness or any proof
All factors are leading and showing result
The strong foundation is already built
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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I Chose With This Prose To Share
I could,
With this prose...
Ramble on,
Nonsensical.
And in doing so,
Seek content.
In a way I believe,
Would have intention meant.
But for some living foolishly,
Whatever another observes and perceives...
Would be for them a waste of print.
And that would be,
Their message sent.
Yet there come those days,
That separate themselves...
From events experienced,
Like none that have before been felt.
And with aging comes an acknowledgement...
Of an acceptance done,
As one awakens to enjoy each moment.
To appreciate with gratefulness...
An opportunity to address,
A growing enlightenment...
Arriving to inspire within one's consciousness.
I could,
With this prose...
Ramble on,
Nonsensical.
However...
It seems that in the making of sense,
Only those who have the time to do it...
Are the ones caring less,
To make attempts to convince!
And I chose with this prose,
To share a part of me I willfully expose.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Children
Playgrounds, playscapes, games and fun.
Escapes and escapades...
Away from a seriousness is done.
A raising of children to become older kids,
Is the intention throughout adulthood.
And this is welcomed by more than some.
With a responsibility that never is achieved.
Since many were bred to be fed,
To stay as children in their heads...
Free of any accountability to feed and spread.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Light of Weight
I am not here to hold anyone's hand.
Or to play mushy goody...
With those who have sensitivities,
I don't quite understand.
I've come to raise and enlighten my consciousness.
Not to play childish games with those,
Who like to dress up and masquerade...
Parading to be someone else they wish.
Or raise the minds of children...
To stay 'children' and be 'good'.
Any child of mine I want responsible.
I want to see them grow to become assets,
To any neighborhood.
Like mature adults should!
Today I observe,
So many trying their best to stay young!
And making excuses for what they do.
As they seek acceptance for it too.
With no desire to overcome...
Their stunning and numbing dumbness.
I see those selected to lead...
But only if they are liked!
And as a result of this...
No growth at all is in sight!
I see irresponsibility with disrespect accepted.
I see a total breakdown of humanity.
With none of this rejected!
As those of 'insight' despised and dejected.
I observe a pitifulness...
In my life I resist!
I am not going to put up with it!
Nor do I condone,
Those who do not make their feelings known.
I may be viewed a maverick...
One who is light on substance.
And perhaps light of weight.
But I appreciate my life...
Free of nonsense and those who are fake!
This is not the experience I wish to be served,
On my challenging and demanding plate!
And to those who see,
I have no appetite for these scenes?
Can call me light of weight.
And light on substance...
They may feed and satiate!
But don't get in my face to say it.
I am very capable to dish...
Anything I decide that is delivered,
I wish to dismiss!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Distant From A Discipline Given
Rudderless and left to float...
Our children today,
Are left with emotions remoted.
And devoted to show,
The little they know about life.
With a disrespect...
Close but yet so distant from a discipline given.
With expectations limited to a failure praised...
And parental guidance,
Are never questions amongst themselves raised.
Well,
Simply put...
Many of our children today,
No longer fantasize about having strict parents.
Or...
Think of it,
As a human betrayal...
Omitted from their existence.
Rudderless and left to float...
Our children today,
Are left with emotions remoted.
And devoted to show,
The little they know about life.
With a disrespect...
Close but yet so distant from a discipline given.
And 'we',
Seem so afraid...
To be their example of mature adult men,
And no nonsense taking women!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Quick Am I To Return a 'Tude
Quick am I to return a 'tude'.
I am not a good receiver,
Of moods dumped on me.
With expectations...
I should understand,
Someone's funky attitiude!
I don't.
I did not major in psychology.
Or empathy overflow...
To have my emotions abused.
Quick am I to return a 'tude'.
I am not a good receiver,
Of moods dumped on me.
With expectations...
I should understand,
Someone's funky attitude.
I have my own issues.
And a doing it alone to correct them.
Has helped me process my weaknesses.
And I don't accept anyone telling me...
'You are strong and more experienced.'
I may be both.
But...
I am not a collector of insecurities.
Nor am I one to understand,
A delivery of another's disrespect.
Shown to me or anyone else addressed.
A maturity I may express...
Was not to me hand delivered.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Daring To Be Defeated
People refusing to listen,
Create their own dilemmas.
They believe an enforcement done,
Of their wishes...
Retrieves a satisfaction,
As expectations are identified.
They lie to themselves and expect understanding.
Foolish are their delusions.
But an acceptance to be corrected...
Is taken for criticisms refused to enhance a growth.
People like this want to feel protected,
Like a child caught in a lie.
With a tantrum to come that is provoked.
And the circumstances they must face,
They don't do that!
They rather run to hide inside their minds...
Where trappings of safety begin to take place.
'I don't care if you don't believe me.
I don't care...'
And alone they weep!
People refusing to listen,
Create their own dilemmas.
They believe an enforcement done,
Of their wishes...
Retrieves a satisfaction,
As expectations are identified.
A stripping to expose flaws,
Is difficult to do.
A willingness to be wounded...
Speeds up the advancing of a truth.
And when truth is denied,
For something less painful to receive and accept...
A maturity to gain becomes a stagnation repeated.
With a daring to be defeated...
Conquered by insecurities,
As a surrounding wall that falsely protects.
'I don't care if you don't believe me.
I don't care...'
And alone they weep!
Stubbornly affixed to their insecurities,
Keeping them appeased and weak!
Daring to be defeated!
But defeated by a weakness...
Keeps their insecurities appeased.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When She Played It Was On Her Piano
As a kid I had ambitions.
And the first of them was to do my chores,
Before my mother would come home from work.
And she would pack them on too!
'I told you to sweep this floor.'
I did!
'With what?
A sandwich?
Do it again.'
My sister, Mimmie, would look at me.
And smile!
I couldn't wait,
To give her the spray can...
To kill the roaches!
I didn't know we weren't suppose to have them,
Until I was eight years old!
And that's not a joke.
One day when my mother went to work,
I made sure Mimmie got introduced.
She's a grandmother now.
And every once in a while...
She will mention how mean I was to her.
Nobody is going to sit,
And enjoy me getting whipped!
And that has been my philosophy...
Learned very early in my life.
Those days are long gone.
And being assigned to responsibilites,
I believe every child needs.
However...
Too many parents have raised lazy and spoiled children.
Believing one day,
They will awaken and be accountable for their actions!
Today as I reflect on my childhood,
I am glad my mother did not allow me to go to sleep...
To chance an awakening to what I knew I should do.
What I had and was going to do got done,
Before I had an opportunity to give it thought.
Procrastination,
Was not a lesson my mother taught.
I've seen parents,
Do everything possible for their children.
To wonder at a later date in time,
Why their children disrespect them.
Even 'if' I looked as if I wanted to say something back,
My mother would put a 'switch' to my behind.
AND...
I would have to fine one she liked to use on me.
That was before the calling of 911.
Today...
They would call that child abuse.
When I grew up...
We got our 'butts' tore up.
Just for looking as 'if'...
We did not enjoy getting whippings!
And I aint hardly kidding.
How does that 'old' saying go?
~Spare the rod and spoil the child.~
Well...
Mimmie and I were very spoiled.
But...
A rocking of a boat,
Did not float at all...
With Ms Edna!
When she played,
It was on her piano!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sweat and Work Are Involved
Isn't it easy,
To dictate what someone should do...
From the comfort of the sidelines,
Where the peanut gallery sits...
Irresponsible with accountability limited?
And I hear you say,
You'd like more assistance.
With a wish to have it quick.
But those were not your sentiments made,
When you passed your judgement,
On the one you and the others...
Forced to throw up hands to quit.
People seldom realize,
How much is paid for their ignorance.
Isn't it easy,
To dictate what someone should do...
From the comfort of the sidelines,
Where the peanut gallery sits...
Irresponsible with accountability limited?
And now you are complaining,
How no one understands.
But you had no problem accusing the other,
Of not standing tall and taking it like a man.
And he succeeded.
Although this didn't please.
But then...
Again,
The attention was on him.
Wasn't it?
And you thought that was all it took to lead.
Now it is your turn.
And you can not take the pressure of critique.
There is much more to it,
Then just smiling and having an appetite...
The ego wants pleased.
For the one taking the heat,
And being in the brightest of spotlights...
Sweat and work are involved.
And this...
Many people aren't behind the scenes to see.
Very little time is given to the crunching on munchies.
Sweat...
And work,
Are involved!
Together...
Like in any close relationship.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What Else Can You Do?
What else can they do?
After they have offended,
With disrespect...
Publicly denounced,
And rejected you?
And it was later discovered...
You were selected by God,
To protect them.
And you no longer have that need.
To acknowledge them or hear their pleas.
Especially...
When all you came to offer was love!
And that was something they prayed to receive!
What else can you do?
When God is watching you make attempts to deliver.
And He decides...
You should not compromise your dignity and pride!
What else can you do?
But follow those wishes...
And be blessed with the gifts,
God has given you to use!
And not waste your time,
Being abused by the confused.
What else can you do?
Even though they turned their backs on you...
Should you do the same thing done to you too?
What else can you do?
When God is watching you make attempts to deliver.
And He decides...
You should not compromise your dignity and pride!
What else can you do?
But follow those wishes...
And be blessed with the gifts,
God has given you to use!
And not waste your time,
Being abused by the confused.
Or think if you do...
You have something there to lose.
And you don't!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Only The Ones Who Continually Count Their Blessings
Why is it when one is young,
Aging is something believed...
No one wants to get done.
I've had my share of bouts with doubts.
Praying my advancing age...
Would not be so obvious.
Or in public be announced,
To be shouted out.
As I made attempts not to appear,
Like I was not experiencing a mid-life crisis.
But,
I've earned this.
I had to awaken to admit it!
I've EARN THIS!
Every bit of it and proud.
I have managed to do some things I dared.
With challenges and obstacles,
To prove a faith had pulled me through...
Mucho grief!
With just some of it shared.
Not all.
I don't want to scare the few people I know,
Away!
There's already been an acceptance,
Of my mentioned dysfunctions.
Why blow it on a 'show and tell' demonstration?
Some boundaries should be kept limited.
And imagined.
Why is it when one is young,
Aging is something believed...
No one wants to get done.
I've had my share of bouts with doubts.
Praying my advancing age...
Would not be so obvious.
Or in public be announced,
To be shouted out.
As I made attempts not to appear,
Like I was not experiencing a mid-life crisis.
I use to fear aging before I understood it.
Only the ones who continually count their blessings,
Can appreciate a few aches and pains...
And associate 'that' with being grateful to feel them.
Only the ones who continually count their blessings,
Can appreciate a few aches and pains...
And associate 'that' with being grateful to feel them.
And I'll keep that repeated to myself,
As a reminder.
Sometimes this self motivation business,
Does get old and tired.
But a blessing to live to get done.
You never know who's listening,
When confessions are being made.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In The World Of Adulthood
Those remaining,
In the playing of their silly games...
In a sustained immaturity,
Find themselves wishing to undo...
What it is they have done they do,
Once to them it has been acknowledged...
Those remaining,
In the playing of their silly games...
In a sustained immaturity,
Have lost all credibility...
In the world of adulthood,
Where children dressed 'as' adults...
Are not allowed to impress,
With a childish foolishness to be accepted.
'Comeon!
You can't take a joke? '
~I use to accept fools with a suffering done...
Of their antics too.
At one time.
But a seriousness of my life,
And in my mind...
Seemed to have overnight,
Risen to the top of my priority list.
And adults who are mature,
Are the only folks I wish to deal with.
And they today appear difficult to find.
Call it...
A plateau of maturity reached.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Marriage Made In Heaven
I've had many divorces in my life.
Two of which were legal.
My eyes have cried so many tears,
Over the past years...
To eventually view through them clearly,
Was a gift I doubted I could accept.
That's how often I wept!
And then one day,
I was introduced to my life!
To say there is no such thing,
As falling in love overnight?
I discovered within seconds,
That was a lie!
Not only did a peace of mind come with it,
That felt so right...
I knew this to be a marriage made in heaven.
I've had many divorces in my life.
Two of which were legal.
And then one day,
I was introduced to my life!
Not only did a peace of mind come with it,
That felt so right...
I knew this to be a marriage made in heaven.
And I vowed I would remain honest,
And devoted!
Although I must admit...
I am still making attempts to rid myself,
Of those annoying habits.
You know...
Those self indulgences,
That can addict?
Like the smoking of cigarettes...
I just can't seem to quit!
But...
I am dealing with the consciousness of it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lips Spilling With Disrespect
Grateful today I am not to be raising children.
By anyone's definition,
Of just how old those children grow to be.
And today many are raising children,
Who have skipped lessons taught in their childhood...
With a missing of a switch.
To be in their 30's...
With a lot that has been missed.
I did have a son, Michael...
Who many years passed away.
And I cringe at the thought,
Of what today he, Michael, to me would say.
Lips spilling with disrespect,
From the mouths of these children...
Who are quick to express how they are upset,
Would motivate me to the first policeman I'd see.
To request my immediate arrest from their mess.
'Put the handcuffs on me, please!
Someone dear to me is about to bleed.
And I pay my taxes.
So there is no need to question me.
Put the handcuffs on me, please!
And if you can do this immediately...
So happy I would be! '
I am just not the one,
To throw up my hands to say...
What has been done is done.
Oh no!
Out the door someone has to go.
And since I am paying the bills...
Someone other than me,
Is going to feel that chill.
I am the one I am sure would be confined.
Because no child of mine...
Is going to fill my ears with their nonsense.
And 'if' that should happen...
It will be a long time before they awaken,
From an unconsciousness achieved...
By an asking for 'it'.
'I have no idea what happened to him, officer.
He made a request.
And I delivered.
He requested a taste of fist.
What could I do but to deliver it.'
And that is why today,
I don't guess or wonder why...
I am blessed.
I know this without a doubt,
That's why I enjoy my peace with no regrets.
None at all to figure out!
Oh no!
I am the one I am sure would be confined.
That's why I know,
All blessings I have received,
I have earned every one and know they are mine.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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More Obvious and Demean
Who decided how we 'should' live,
Is deserved?
And the way we live...
In the pursuit of less conflict,
Is insignificant?
What few with 'pull' and 'balls'
With injurious intentions for all...
Collected to connect,
To upset
With disturbing peacelessness?
More obvious and demean.
More of this rise in hatred seen.
And...
More of a correctness comes to intervene.
It is yet seen,
But comes.
And for those who see it coming closer,
It shows.
Who decided how we should live?
In prefabricated fears to defend with deceit?
The greedy?
Of selfishness needs to fill whims,
To discard on the fields of disrespect!
Like their own children,
They feed lust, filth and cheating...
As a way in life to succeed.
With a harboring jealously that hides,
Internal insecurities.
Now..
They make attempts,
Trying to convince...
With restrictions of physical borders,
Constructed and fenced.
And...
These are those of them,
Who steal and claim power with such recklessness?
With an accepted seductiveness for desires to inspire,
Chaos!
And believe by confessing it,
Gains them a visit from the Pope?
And he comes...
Provoked!
And he told them.
All was well...
Until the few of incompetance,
Decided to whip up tricks to depict
Leadership to lead us into unending battles!
To instill,
Their version...
Of a living hell.
And doing it just for their own demonic ways to thrill.
Themselves.
And now with new inventions to restrict.
Any noncomformist ideas to circumvent...
To avoid with common sense,
What is being done.
They prepare...
Choices they announce:
'Either run away further into doubt?
Or stand to make a call for change!
If you dare.
And if you do it will be done our way.
Black? White? Hispanics or others...
Chosen to dislike as we incite division.'
Whether they proceed to succeed or fail.
Will be on their diminishing consciousness.
More obvious and demean.
And...
More of a correctness comes to intervene.
It is yet to be seen,
But comes.
And for those who see it coming closer,
It shows.
And those who oppose what is being done...
Run!
But to where?
Since when it comes,
It comes to make it clear...
It comes from everywhere to silence fears,
And dry the tears from whomever they may fall!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Doctor, You Must Beware!
Doctor, do you play God?
Your work is but slip-shod;
Patients call you just sod;
Are you a demi-god?
You care for lives galore,
Or waste your time sea-shore;
You work like a bee-hive;
If not, patients’ lives nose-dive!
Lives lie in your skill’d hand;
You wave a magic-wand;
You can postpone their death,
But not for long, I bet!
You may advise others
On health aspects, brothers;
Modern day stress can kill
And make anyone ill.
Moderation’s the best;
Common-sense makes up the rest;
Prudence is much better;
Spirit does too matter.
What the use if you can save
A hundred lives but rave?
For more is being lost
And none can afford the cost!
When wealth, you had sought,
A car, a house, you bought;
Had children and a wife,
Spared no time for own life!
You ate sans exercise;
Then came sudden demise;
You must forget your lands;
Your life is in God’s Hands!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-26-1999
poem by John Celes
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Relax. Just Observe It For What It Is
Please.
Can you assist me?
'I will do the best I can.
What is it that you seek? '
I am trying to make some sense,
Out of what's going on.
Can you tell me where it is I can go,
To begin with my efforts?
'Oh.
I can tell you many places to go.
But.
The only suggestion I can give,
Is try not to make any attempts at all.
That's right.
Pretending to go along with whatever is going on,
Will be the best solution.
Just observe it for what it is.
Trying to stand out,
As one being accountable for your actions...
Is not a healthy way to live.
Afterall
Who would understand this?
And today
People are easily offended by anyone,
Making attempts to be responsible.
Relax.
Just observe it for what it is.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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