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Getting Their Weekly Dosages

It is remarkable.
People actually believe,
They can sit through a ritual...
And transcend their demons.
Like a forgiveness given,
Automatically erases misdeeds.
As if a cleansing takes place.
And one becomes gifted,
With selective memory.
And all is forgotten.
Perhaps that is the reason,
Why some places...
Are so crowded on Sunday,
By those getting their weekly dosages!
With descriptions of sins,
So vividly captured to tempt one's taste.
AFTER deep prayer.
To entice a repeated visit.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Reason And Cause For Their Pain

Everyday!
Everyday as if a ritual,
Someone is complaining...
About being misunderstood.

Everyday as if a ritual,
Fault is being made...
About someone else.

Everyday as if a ritual,
People are accused...
For something they didn't do.

Everyday!
Everyday as if a ritual,
Some believes they have the right...
To excuse themselves of responsibility.

And everyday,
Someone is left to feel alone...
Still not getting the connection,
Between their misdeeds...
Aches and pains.
And those heartbreaks they receive,
They have come to perceive...
No one else has known!

And everyday without fail,
As sure as the ticking of a clock is heard...
These people will not see themselves,
The reason and cause for their pain.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Those Slow To Learn Their Lessons

So many years have passed.
And so many have lived their lives,
Being led down the wrong paths...
To one day discover,
As if the clouds have been removed...
From clearing eyes and minds,
To realize those tasks and evil misdeeds...
Done to others in times left behind,
Should have never by them...
The focus of their attention given.
But...
It was.

And those who had been picked,
For those misdeeds done determined...
To have been fit and appropriate,
Might have also awakened with a change of mind.

Perhaps for them they were willing once 'then' to forgive,
But today they may be more convinced...
That those slow to learn their lessons as quick,
Are deserving of repeated teachings...
Until such doing has become satisfying to please.
And those messages they attempted to deliver,
Are guaranteed to have been received.

'I don't understand why I am the one,
Treated in such an offensive manner.'

~Don't worry about it.
You're not the only one who suffers,
From a selective memory.
All you have to do is connect the dots.
What have you done,
That you wish had been forgotten? ~

'I don't remember.'

~Apparently someone you afflicted does.
And has chosen this moment to test.
Until your mind connects.~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Accusations As To Who 'Sins

People love to use the Bible,
To use for descriptions...
As to point out those of us who are 'heathens',
With accusations as to who 'sins'.

But every symbolic symbol viewed,
Shows a group of men...
Enjoying themselves at a supper said,
To be their 'last'.

No one depicts them as 'homosexuals'.
Or the one woman who appears as a lesbian.
Since this would immediately label anyone,
As a 'blasphemous' attacker of their beliefs.

People love to use the Bible,
To use for descriptions...
As to point out those of us who are 'heathens',
With accusations as to who 'sins'.

But,
If we are all indeed 'sinners' with temptations teased...
Who are those professing they are not?
With invitations to heaven...AND, get in with misdeeds?

'That turf is too controversial.
And may offend those self righteous.'

There is nothing like conforming,
To existing beliefs.
Or using the Bible to interpret literally.
Afterall, so many people have more than one.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Teach The Gifted Children

Teach the gifted children
Teach them to have mercy
Teach them about sunsets
Teach them about moonrise
Teach them about anger
The sin that comes with dawning
Teach them about flowers
And the beauty of forgetfulness
Then take me to the river (take me to the river)
And put me in the water (and put me in the water)
Bless them and forgive them (take me to the river)
Father cause they just dont know (take me to the river)
All the gifted children
Teach the gifted children
The way of men and animals
Teach them about cities
The history of the mysteries
Their vice and their virtues
About branches that blow in the wind
On the wages of their sins
Teach them of forgiveness
Teach them about mercy
Teach them about music
And the cool and cleansing waters
What do they say, take me to the river (take me to the river)
Take me to the river (take me to the river)
Put me in the water (take me to the river)
And teach the gifted children (take me to the river)
All the gifted children (take me to the river)
(take me to the river)
(take me to the river)

song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gifted Ticket Taken

With a gifted ticket taken,
Anyone can go to places...
With a price already paid.

With a gifted ticket taken,
It becomes easier to get away.

And with a gifted ticket taken,
One will discover it's okay...
To get onboard,
And explore the unknown.

With a gifted ticket taken,
No one is bored.
Or feel they have ignored their trials.
Or chores expected to soothe with smiles,
Upon the faces awaiting to take full credit.

And with a gifted ticket taken,
All onboard...
Are ready to tour.
With a freeing off their backs,
Attractions carried that attacked.

And with a gifted ticket taken,
All onboard...
Are never bored,
With a freeing off their backs...
And with a sigh of satisfaction.

And with a gifted ticket taken,
Everyone can celebrate...
The patience,
It took...
To get that taste anyone can salivate.

And with a gifted ticket taken,
Everyone can celebrate...
The patience,
It took...
To get that taste anyone can salivate.

And with a gifted ticket taken,
Everyone can celebrate.
And with a gifted ticket taken,
Everyone can celebrate.
And with a gifted ticket taken,
Everyone can celebrate...
The patience,
It took...
To get that taste anyone can salivate.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Into The Wilderness

Always there will be those,
Going out of their way as if chosen...
To inflict their wicked misdeeds upon others.
Only to arrive with feelings they discover,
Has left them to grieve wishing forgiveness.
Knowing...
Time has not come to heal their wounds.

And those who have been picked to be inflicted,
With wounds...know this.
Even attempts made trying to hide them,
Still sit not to be forgotten.
And the repeated visits with bitterness,
Sometimes may take them on long drives...
To 'trip' into the wilderness just to cry...alone.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Until One Sits Alone

People today do not want to face their own demons!
And why should they?
When it has been made more convenient,
For them to pretend...
Demons that visit,
Do not for them exist.

They rather give their opinions,
Unsolicited and quick.
About how others should live,
As they pill pop to get...
Their headaches to quit.

Quieting anxieties,
Leaves them less suspicious.
As the ones who can't face their own hurdles.
Or take initiative they themselves do not permit.

Until one sits alone,
Dealing with demons on their own...
Excuses will be condone,
To label their protected wounds.
That scar them to the bone.

People today do not want to face their own demons!
And why should they?
When it has been made more convenient,
For them to pretend...
Demons that visit,
Do not for them exist.
And these same demons...
Are seen from them to persist unlimited.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All our yesterdays

Dusty shelves within our minds
Dark labyrinth of passageways
Memories stored like aging wine
Where we keep… all our yesterdays

Moments… treasured, … forgotten pleasures
snugly tucked, in private places
Daydream fodder, and even odder
Private portfolio Of forgotten faces

Far off look…into empty spaces
Seeing sights of other days
Tasting memory’s wine, of other places
Divinely, takes your breath away.

Shadow dancers on the wall
memory’s vault in which they lay
Private…inviolate… memory hall
Where are kept… all our yesterdays

poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seated Next to Hypocrites

Must we discuss,
The lost side of negativity?
I choose not to reset bitterness,
To sit within me and make uncomfortable,
My stress absent environment.

It is not that I am unaware of negativity.
I refuse to endorse its presence or existence.
And I care less how much of it is around.
So is prostitution!
Look at the many ways,
People are paying to get screwed.

Yes.
I have heard about the devil as well.
Especially by those who can show their devilment.
In re-anactments experienced.
Again and again!
To then preach about decadence and sin!
With free flowing scriptures quoted.
On many traveled block from coast to coast,
You will see these folks confessing misdeeds
Of their unconsciousness.
With the innovation of a gifted excuse maker.

I know about that.
And I know about them!
The eyes are not only limited to what can be seen.
The heart and mind are connected by thoughts.
and I have been taught...
Not to keep my mind focused there to pay homage.

I want to free myself from those inflictions.
And to make a visit to congregate to pray against...
Sins of our own and others,
And not 'for' lives loved as creations of God,
Defeats the birthing process.
The progress I have adopted
Is injected with happiness.

I'm not about to acknowledge sins.
Or beg for forgiveness...
Once my research has been completed.
Nor stand self righteous from a pulpit.
Knowing I disguise my lust!

In God I trust!
That's it.
And I listen and watch,
Where God reveals He wants me.
And I am sure it is not to be seated,
Next to hypocrites.
God already Knows...
I'm not having none of it!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Exceptions To The Forgiveness Rule

I am the first to admit,
That a forgiveness given...
Should not be a consideration,
With a solicitation that escalates in debate.

We all make mistakes...
And care enough to correct those made.
At least the effort proves this to be true!

However...
Those anticipating things done that they do,
Should automatically be granted a stay of execution...
Puts others through what it is they do,
As if an approval of understanding of their misdeeds...
Are exceptions to the forgiveness rule!

And this creates a repetition,
Of those same conflicts initiated.
Without a sign of any lessons learned,
That establishes a sustaining confidence

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Calculating

Mistakes?
There is a difference,
Between those deliberately made.
And those created with a premeditation done.

Those who say they have made a mistake,
After taking time calculating their manipulations...
And caught!
To be found to weep,
For the humiliation they have reaped...
Exposed by their misdeeds,
Will 'always' be deceivers.

People like this,
Should never again be believed.
But an empathy with forgiveness,
Seems to stop instantly those tears from dripping!

Overcompensating their mistakes...
As unconscious activities?
Would be acceptable except...
People are proud to leave behind,
Witnesses and descriptions that depict...
Their strategies,
To undo someone else.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Church

I am sure there are those who go to church,
For purposes I have yet myself researched.
But I do not intend to learn more about Satan.
Nor about those demons...
Dispensing sins.
Where from inside a church...
People pray to be forgiven for them.

I am sure there are those who go to church,
Other than to wear their Sunday best.
Or to regurgitate...
Scriptures learned or verses they've rehearsed.
And in privacy misdeeds confessed.

But there is evidence lacking on urban streets,
Near these places where 'The Word' is heard.
And sermons are preached.
All I observe is decadence done.
Where hypocrites congregated and speak,
To others what 'they' should not do!
As a form of their 'community' outreach!

While showing how the devil does it.
From lessons recited to ignite inner fear.
And the 'how-one-should-live'
To get those expected golden 'wings'...
Given to them,
By a 'heavenly' being...
Adorning upon them 'halos' they've earn.
As melodious harmonic voices sing!
With angels appearing to dance near.

And this conflicts with my depiction of God!
When I witness the destruction of all that God creates.
As those who say they are of faith with 'belief'...
Do not find their actions neither wicked or odd!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Questions I Ask Myself...

whose voice do you hear?
whose blood by the door?
whose body before you,
lifeless in the night?

are you then prayer,
the reason for prayer,
or the answer?

whose tremble in your hands?
whose guilt etched in your face?
whose give did you take?
whose mouth left hungry?

are you then forgiveness,
the reason for forgiveness,
or the need?

whose god did yours kill?
whose sons did your war murder?
whose plate did you steal from?
whose blanket do you wear?

are you then salvation,
the reason for salvation,
or past the point of being saved?

questions i ask myself,
late at night!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Always The 'Who' That Gets One Through

Those who set out to ruin lives,
Consciously.
To then awaken with guilt and expectations,
Consciously.
That an awaiting for a forgiveness given to exonerate them,
Is not on the minds of the ones...
Who have spent time on the other end,
Healing and mending from wounds consciously inflicted...
By those who assume a skipping away from their deeds done,
Is the same wish by someone who has forgiven to forget.
Especially when the suffering with pain is involved.

People may be seen to be completely 'restored' from sorrows.
If recovery actually is done to come.
However...
It was their faith and determination alone,
With a gritting of teeth that got them off their knees.
To remember every detail vividly,
As to how, when, where, why and who...
Put them there in the first place.
And it is ALWAYS...
Always the 'who' that gets one through a process,
Never to be forgotten.

'It's so good to see you healthy and fit.
I am glad you have forgiven me.
You have...haven't you?
Say something.
Why are you smiling? '

~No particular reason.
Just thinking of how I would have handled this,
Years ago.~

'Handled what? '

~My thoughts.~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unmistakably Awake

That which is done to another,
With an intention to induce a harm.
That leaves a stinging one intends to bring,
With an intention meant.
A forgiveness may take place,
But the fact of the act can not be erased.
No matter if what one has done has been mentioned,
As a mistake!
What had been done and was not faked.
Came from a consciousness unmistakably awake.

And if one decides not to forgive,
With a memory not to forget.
The misdeed received was not thought of as a gift.
And forgiving actions to forget like this,
Invites a re-occurrence.

That which is done to another,
With an intention to induce a harm.
That leaves a stinging one intends to bring,
With an intention meant.
A forgiveness may take place,
But the fact of the act can not be erased.
No matter if what one has done has been mentioned,
As a mistake!
What had been done and was not faked.
Came from a consciousness unmistakably awake.

Deceivers believe their misdeeds can be repeated!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hypocrisy In Christianity

today is Sunday
the one day sunday christians
are off to church

these are the Christians
who are only Christian
one day Sunday a week

Christians for only one day?
one day sunday for a few hours?
sin of Hypocrisy in Christianity?

is one of the most detestable sins
it causes righteous worshippers to stumble
it takes the name of God in vain

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Osmosis between good and evil

Sins are forgotten by the sinners.
Sins are forgiven by the creator.
That is why heaven is not empty.
Sins are justified by the sinners.
Sins are allowed by the creator.
That is why hell too is not empty.

But from time to time
Osmosis takes place.
24.04.2002, Pakd

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Deep Down The Memory Lane

Deep down the memory lane
I still think of you
Though you may have forgotten me
Yet I think of you

I know there had been promises unkept
and many wishes unfulfilled
Yet deep down the memory lane
I still think of you

There had been lot of fightings
and lot of faults in me
They really have stiffled you
and made u cry to agony

I know it was my weakness
that made you go away
I was the only reason
that made ur love deplete

I have tried to hate u
I have tried to damn
Yet deep down the memory lane
I still think of you!

poem by Rahul Gupta
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The Forgotten Soldier

The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. Scarred for all eternity. Searching for divinity. Prayer yet to be answered. Smoking has just brought cancer. The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. Looking for forgiveness in all the wrong places. So many name and so many faces. An anecdotal pun he has become. A history lesson has been undone. Wars never can be won. The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. In his eyes lies the blood of many. Sleepless nights of sacrifice and murder. And in the end their is no one to comfort him. The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. Times have changed. Now he can only wish he was flying a jet plane. Treated like dirt. Crippled and weak. And the man just turns the other cheek. The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. Today is his birthday and he spends it in a nursing home all alone. To all he is forgotten dead and gone. But i remember, i remember all the forgotten soldiers.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Something Within

Silent fingers strum
a whispered melody
crooning deep within
a forgotten memory,
where sorrow sings so softly
persuading guitar strings,
tears flow in harmony,
felt but seldom seen.

Phantom lyrics haunt
repeating words unsaid,
hypnotic hollow humming
bleeds like rusted lead.

A familiar serenade
from origins unknown
has captured my essence
and guides this mortal soul,
to places once abandoned
and stories left untold,
a quiet ache,
deep within
that has taken hold.

poem by Gina Marie Moody
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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