Grateful to Express
They don't know what 'this' is!
'This'...here!
Because they have no idea who I am,
And 'how' I am connected to it!
'They'!
'Them'!
'Those' and/or the others...
Believe creative expression is easy.
That's why they are quick to toss it aside...
And dismiss it as simplistic.
A lazy man's genocide!
They rather adorn something worn...
Or display a thing or two,
To show those thoughtless how well they are doing!
In something quick and pleasing to the eye.
Since being creative is for the 'lazy'.
And they want to be portrayed as 'thee' workers,
Of the Earth!
You know the type...
Every 15minutes,
They're running to get a cup of coffee!
Or stopping by a co-worker's desk...
For a twenty minute chat,
About where they are going for lunch!
To spend at least an hour and 20 minutes.
Those who 'work' HARD ALL DAY LONG!
You know the kind!
The ones who don't have time,
For exercise or hobbies!
And exhausted from a 9 to 5 gig!
And, of course...
What I do 'anyone' can do and...
WHY aren't you in New York City Or LA...
Anyway?
And as I watch their realities wither away and rust...
I thank God for blessing my life with an abundance,
Of 'nothingness' I am grateful to express!
And share with those from places,
All over the world!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Those of Creative Inclinations
I love it!
When those who perceive,
My ceative sensibilities...
Exposes a sensitivity,
That implies a character weakness.
Those of creative inclinations are often compared.
With limp wrists and tea cups!
But there are very few I now know or then knew,
Who were shy to tell anyone a thing or two...
Or where to go!
Anyone connected to this creative process knows...
It is not a joke.
Not this process carefully invoked...
To provoke a higher consciousness.
Growing older makes one aware,
Of the strength involved in this!
Nor made of fluff are these creative disciplines.
The only ones who believe they are...
Are those who have unruly children.
And have themselves disconnected...
From the creations of their realities.
Wishing to perceive,
Those of creativity are lazy!
Which for the most part,
Has been reluctantly failures man made!
To get a quick buck.
To find themselves at dead ends...
And out of luck!
Shall I say...
On their 'lazy' butts.
Remove the creative process out of schools...
And the manufacturing of fools are produced.
But then again...
I need not to say that today,
Do I?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Something Easy to Do
I am told,
Since I enjoy writing...
I must find it easy to do!
First of all...
If someone finds something easy to do.
And they brag about it,
Not because what is done is 'liked'.
It is done because they find it easy.
Nothing is easy about writing.
In fact,
Those creative things I enjoy...
I don't find easy at all!
There are too many critiques involved.
Folks constantly expressing their judgements.
And then there are those who have jobs and drink coffee,
All day long to tell someone like me,
I should get a real job!
I was told that one time,
By someone taking a two hour lunch break!
And if it takes me two days to a month,
To complete a task...
I don't take breaks until that task is done.
I can't think of one creative person,
Associated with the economic collapse.
No one I know with discipline...
Has time to feed a greed.
And ultimately,
Those of creative minds will have to mend this mess!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Inactivity Created
Lazy.
A feast of ignorance,
Has fed them well.
Lazy.
Delusionists speak of their triumphs.
Glorify in imaginations.
Party in their sweat.
Yet few work...
To where they need to get!
Lazy.
Creatures seeking credentials.
But absent of common sense.
Lazy.
Exhausted from thoughts!
With no intent meant.
Lazy.
Approached to verify all they claim.
And when there is nothing there...
They play the blame game.
Accusing some of being 'lucky' in life...
And every excuse they use is lame.
Lazy.
They watch a way of life diminish.
Lazy.
They wish their fantasies replenished.
Lazy.
But when a working ethic isn't there to be done,
They point a finger at everyone.
And more like them are relieved...
So many like them believe,
If it had not been for someone else...
Success they too could achieve.
But those who bust their butts can see...
These folks appreciate,
Only another pretention they can make!
And taking time to waste.
But don't call them...
Lazy.
That's a word they hate!
But keep dates with it to salivate...
An inactivity created!
There is no debate,
To contemplate this observation.
They are without hesitation of doubt...
Lazy!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Writing A Poem That You Can Understand So Easily
this is not to insult your intelligence
or your sensibility
your capacity for managing angst,
to see the wholeness
of the matter
in the eye of the needle
where the camel enters where you claim you have seen it,
this, this is it, the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog near the bank of the riverthe quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog near the bank of the riverthe quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog near the bank of the riverthe quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog near the bank of the river the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog near the bank of the riverthe quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog near the bank of the riverthe quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog near the bank of the riverthe quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog near the bank of the river
do you not find wisdom in it, it is filled with questions to be answered:
why is the fox quick
why is it brown? why does it jump on a lazy dog? and is the dog really lazy? is this not offensive to the dogs in the royalty? and why should the river be near? and this bank of the river? is this where the dog lives? or the fox or the dog, do they relate to the word quick and lazy?
i tell you, there is wisdom in every word, no matter where you place it.
every verb serves its purpose in giving us action,
every question calls for an answer
and every period serves the purpose it is intended to be.
rest.
the purpose of an easy poem is to understand it, and so the poem is written in the most familiar language that you know and speak,
period.
i don't want to understand things really, there is no point there.
period.
some poems are not meant to be understood, they are only meant to be read.
period.
some poems are not meant to be digested, they are meant to make
us full, even only for a while.
period.
some poems are written by Someone Else, and this writer does not
even understand it.
period.
rest.......
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lazy People
Lazy is as lazy does,
Which is do nothing really,
Coz Lazy is as always does,
Make us do nothing freely.
Lazy people are no crazy people.
Lazy people are truly smart people.
Fast tricks, short fix type of people.
So Lazy has it's good and bad,
Are you lazy? Ask your Dad.
We have our lazy days,
We have our lazy ways.
Do you qualify the breed?
Bring your eyes to feed,
On lazy poems, read.
Bob Says
Bob says the harder I work the luckier I seem to get
And do not tell me there is not money in the loss of human sweat
If I did not work as hard less money I would have for to spend
The wealthy one has lots of mates but the pauper does not have a friend.
Bob says my neighbour Freddy he does like to complain
He only works three days a week and though to him I try to explain
Had he got another part time job how much better off he would be
But he just likes to have his whinge he does not listen to me.
Hard work doesn't seem to bother Bob the harder I work he say
The more money I always make life seems to be that way
One would have to become very lucky to become a lotto millionaire
And those who come by money in the easy way to say the least are rare.
Bob says the harder I work the wealthier I seem to grow
Were I a lazy fellow I would not have much to show
For the opportunities I've been granted for the betterment of myself, my children and my wife
The work shy and lazy person never will succeed in life.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Coffee Dream
Although it’s only one hour till lunch -
my stomach won’t wait.
Non-stop growling for the past two hours
has gotten the best of me.
Besides, my taste buds
are ready to murder for a cup of coffee.
Should I say ‘murder’ in a courthouse?
I discovered myself in the eating lounge
with a coffee machine that still doesn’t work.
How unfair that I can’t leave the building
for a quick cup of coffee till lunch.
So, I resort to having the small salad and orange
that was to be my lunch.
Still, I want that coffee!
I’ll take it boiling hot
right out of the pot.
So now I look forward
to when then release us for lunch.
I plan to run down the street and get
a very large cup of coffee -
maybe two or three.
I desperately need my caffeine fix for today.
No Half-Time For Snacks
I am often amused
By those who believe
Creative people are weak.
I never thought that myself.
Since I knew too many geniuses...
Nearly living in the streets.
To pursue their way of life.
They weren't the ones,
Having coffee and buns.
And waiting to take an hour lunch break...
To come back to a desk,
To finish something that never gets done.
Or have cash on hand,
From a job where they are incompetent.
Everyone I knew who created...
Were and still are masters,
Of their gifts and talents.
And I know of very few...
Who take from nothing,
To make something like they do!
While so many take creativity for granted.
With nothing in their lives to pursue...
But a happy hour after work.
To discuss who they wish to screw...
Before going home to smoke pot,
Or booze to annoy someone
Who listens to them sing the blues.
And all of those who do create...
Are somewhere applying their craft.
24/7!
With no half-time for snacks!
Or...
Spending most of their lives,
Complaining!
Laying to lounge or sleep on their backs.
With a remote in hand,
Surfing through their televised adventures.
To boast about...
At their next 'business' meeting.
How creative?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lazy Lately
made them a play
laid by the sea
a lifetime of promises
translated to me
its been hard, hard, hard
its been so hard
easy to place , easy to fake
when i don't know about me
you know you'll be strong
shes far too young
if you got something to say
its easy to know
that you'll find me awake
leave me alone
heat of a gun
leads me to know, you've been
lazy lately, lazily
lazy lately, lazily
laid by the plain
raised by the sea
feels like a hologram, a halo underneath
its been high, high high
getting oh so high
raised by love
faced by the sea
a scene all alone
so i know why you come
its been high, high
getting oh so high
if you got something to say
its easy to know that
you'll find me awake
leave me alone
the heat of a gun
leads me to know, you've been
lazy lately, lazily
if you got something to say
see me alone
you can find me awake
leave me alone
the heat of a gun
leads me to know, you've been
lazy lately, lazily
lazy lately, lazily
if you got something to say
lazy lately
lazy lately, lazily
lazy lately, lazily
lazy lately, lazily
lazy lately, lazily
lazy lately, lazily
lazy lately, lazily
lazy lately, lazily
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Daily Routine
It starts with Mondays,
And ends with the Fridays,
Mondays come at brisk rate,
The Fridays come with delays.
At times the week pass like months,
Sometimes the months pass in a week,
At times it’s hard to kill time,
Sometimes the time kills you.
The moment you are idle you start feeling lazy,
The moment work surrounds you, you start becoming crazy,
You never are satisfied with the amount of work u get,
You never complain the amount of laziness you spend
At times you don’t get an hour for a timely lunch,
Sometimes you spend half the day on a lively lunch,
At times d coffee cups keep stacking around,
Sometimes it’s hard to find even one around.
The stubborn mouse and the static keyboard,
The continuous clicks and the frequent locks,
The dirty desktop with an exciting Outlook,
The lovely mails creating unending chains,
The serious looks, and the illogical debates,
The grueling hours of lengthy meetings,
Creating absolute boredom and sleepy eyes
There r many more moments, this poem can describe.
So easily we fake work,
How quickly we pretend to b busy,
So lazily we pass morning till dark,
How efficiently v show ourselves to b busy
They come so late,
And leave so early,
You come so early,
Yet you leave so late.
They manage to keep their sleep up to date,
You put your lovely sleep at stake.
You keep working with conviction,
They keep on stacking work like sedimentation,
You try to show dedication,
Work piles on with varying orientation.
You try to show irritation,
Work increases your frustration
The more u become devoted,
Work keeps u motivated,
The moment u become frustrated,
You start getting infuriated.
When life becomes easy,
You wish having challenges,
The moment life throws u challenges,
You start feeling uneasy.
I would not have been writing
If life were so easy,
I would not b pouring my emotions
If I were not so happy
poem by Jameel Ahmed Ansari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Quick
Quick to dismiss,
That which is misunderstood.
And quick to do this often.
Because one can and could.
Quick to define something wrong.
Quick to complain about it,
All day long.
Quick to sit to nitpick and pull apart.
As if this quickness was intended from the start.
Quick to resist a comprehension that exist.
Quick to allow a temper tantrum fit.
Quick to whip up excuses...
And split to disappear.
Quick to discover the nearest exit!
That's what troublemakers do...
When they stir up others in raging fits!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Clepsydra
WHY, let is run! who bids it stay?
Let us the while be merry;
Time there in water creeps away,
With us it posts in sherry.
Time not employ'd's empty sound,
Nor did kind Heaven lend it,
But that the glass should quick go round,
And men in pleasure spend it.
Then set thy foot, brave boy, to mine,
Ply quick to cure our thinking;
An hour-glass in an hour of wine
Would be but lazy drinking.
The man that snores the hour-glass out
Is truly a time-waster,
But we, who troll this glass about,
Make him to post it faster.
Yet though he flies so fast, some think,
'Tis well known to the sages,
He'll not refuse to stay and drink,
And yet perform his stages.
Time waits us whilst we crown the hearth,
And dotes on ruby faces,
And knows that this carrier of mirth
Will help to mend our paces:
He stays with him that loves good time,
And never does refuse it,
And only runs away from him
That knows not how to use it.
He only steals by without noise
From those in grief that waste it,
But lives with the mad roaring boys
That husband it, and taste it.
The moralist perhaps may prate
Of virtue from his reading,
'Tis all but stale and foisted chat
To men of better breeding.
Time, to define it, is the space
That men enjoy their being;
'Tis not the hour, but drinking glass,
Makes time and life agreeing.
He wisely does oblige his fate
Does cheerfully obey it,
And is of fops the greatest that
By temp'rance thinks to stay it.
Come, ply the glass then quick about,
To titillate the gullet,
Sobriety's no charm, I doubt,
Against a cannon-bullet.
poem by Charles Cotton
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Lily lily lily of the valley
I have to ask you why Rosalie
QUIT HER POETRY AS EARLY AS SHE STARTED
WRITING HER MAIDEN LINES IN HER TEAHAUS
Overlooking the river under a bridge made of steel
I guess well, it could be because I told her
Life is not fair. Whoever told her that life is fair?
I played games on her,
I ask her why the old monk still sweeps the
Temple stone paths under a scourging sun
And hmm she knows: because the monk is there
Because the temple stones are there
Because the sun is there
Because the sweeper is there.
I ask her an analogous question: and why did the
Mountain climbers climb Mt. Everest?
Because the Mt. Everest is there.
Hmm hmmm hmmmm.
And she recites her favorite lines,
While I listen to her with all my heart:
“There is really nothing that you must be
And there is nothing you must do
There is really nothing you must have
And there is really nothing you must know
There is really nothing you must become
However, it helps to understand that fire burns
And when it rains, the earth gets wet.”
What wisdom! And she spoke her closing argument:
My dear sir the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog
Near the bank of the river. The lazy dog was jumped over the river because the fox was quick and brown, and it was near the River {because it was such a kind of bank} and the dog was lazy, and as you see, the {fox was one brown and quick}
[With a wink, he turned and walked away.]
{Robert Fulghum, it was on fire when I lay down on it p.205}
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Pack Of Lies
That from hard work and endeavour up the social rank you will rise
To me anyhow does seem a pack of lies
'Tis just an old cliche that and nothing more
That some like to quote and we have heard before.
Even in so called prosperous Countries today
Some of the hardest working people work for survival pay
Many honest and willing workers living in poverty
Life for them seems unfair that's how 'twould seem to me.
Many of who on the theory of hard work believe
Say if you do not work hard from life you cannot receive
Yet many of the billionaires of mining and property development and oil
Have never experienced the hardship of toil.
Just an antiquated cliche it does seem indeed
That those who work hardest in life do succeed
The underpaid workers create many a billionaire
For millions around the World life does seem unfair.
I know of an old bloke who has worked hard in his working life
And he struggled for to pay for the funeral of his wife
Just one more poor hard worker his type are everywhere
There are millions of them in the big World out there.
poem by Francis Duggan
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But if you think you aren't creative that's cool, too. I think being around people who aren't creative is kind of refreshing and nice.
quote by Joel Hodgson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New York
New York, New York
A city that breathes endlessly
Dollars are spent carelessly
New York, New York
A city of squares and blocks
And the Stars roll and rock
While tourist flock
Like sheep cornered in squares
Entertainment, clubs and theatres
Is all that seems to matter
Twenty four seven
Alive in heaven
New York
A taxi takes you round and round the blocks
I end up in Madison Square
Where I started out twenty minutes before
But who cares?
This is New York
Every where there are open doors
New York, New York
A city that never sleeps
Everywhere you must leave a tip
But this city is worth the trip
New York, New York
A city of numbers and avenues
And elongated queues
It is true
I see now, I know now
About what they say about New York!
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Lazy Man's Song
I have got patronage, but am too lazy to use it;
I have got land, but am too lazy to farm it.
My house leaks; I am too lazy to mend it.
My clothes are torn; I am too lazy to darn them.
I have got wine, but am too lazy to drink;
So it's just the same as if my cellar were empty.
I have got a harp, but am too lazy to play;
So it's just the same as if it had no strings.
My wife tells me there is no more bread in the house;
I want to bake, but am too lazy to grind.
My friends and relatives write me long letters;
I should like to read them, but they're such a bother
to open.
I have always been told that Chi Shu-yeh1
Passed his whole life in absolute idleness.
But he played the harp and sometimes transmuted metals,
So even he was not so lazy as I
Dad
How I wish I could go back
I wish I could tell you I love you
I am so proud of your purple hearts
You were wounded in world war two
You worked hard for your family
I never heard you really complain
You were grateful for all you had
You always tried to show us the way
I remember how you loved to laugh
How you cried when Grandma died
You played Santa Claus every year
You had friends and were well liked
We always went on a long vacation
You taught us to respect and love
To work hard and not be lazy
You taught us to believe in God above
I was twenty-four when we last hugged
They played the taps on that lonely day
Mom and Jim were both still alive
A twenty-one-gun salute by your grave
The love used here is what really counts
Mom and Jim are now home with you
My faith in the Lord is what sustains me
My tears flow but there is more I must do
Your battlefields have long ended
Your heart was good, deep and true
I will always try to honor your name
Dad I want you to know I love you
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Lazy Old Sun
Lazy old sun
What have you done to summertime?
Hiding away
Behind all those misty thunder clouds
I dont mind
To spend my time
Looking for you
For you are my one reality
When Im dead and gone
Your light will shine eternally
Sunny rain, shine my way
Kiss me with one ray of light from your lazy old sun
You make the rainbows and you make the night disappear
You melt the frost so I wont criticize my sun
When I was young
My world was three foot, seven inch tall
When you were young
There was no world at all
Sunny rain, shine my way
Kiss me with one ray of light from your lazy old sun
Lazy old sun
Lazy old sun
Lazy old sun
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lazy Lightnin
Lazy lightnin sleepy fire in your eyes its like desire in disguise
I keep on tryin but i, I cant get through
Lazy lightnin Id like to find the proper potion
Thats gonna capture your emotion
Youre right beside me but i, I cant get through
Youre a loop of lazy lightnin, just a loop of lazy lightnin
Must admit youre kinda frightnin but you really get me high
So exciting, when I hear your velvet thunder,
You seem so near I start to wonder
Would you come closer if, if I asked you to?
So inviting, the way youre messing with my reason
Its an exception but its pleasing
Tell me a lie and I will swear, Ill swear its true.
Youre a loop of lazy lightnin (lazy lightnin)
Just a loop of lazy lightnin (lazy lightnin)
Must admit youre kinda frightening
Just a loop of lazy lightnin
Put the fire in my eyes (lightnin) put the fire every time (lightnin)
Put the fire in my heart (lightnin) well come on lazy lightning.
Just a loop of lazy lightning
Misty lightning, well you always electrify me
Someday I know youll satisfy me
And all that lightnin will be my lightnin too.
My lightnin too. (my lightnin too)
Just a loop of lazy lightnin (my lightnin too)
My lightnin too. (my lightnin too)
Just a loop of lazy lightnin (my lightnin too)
My lightnin too. (my lightnin too)
Oh come on lazy lightnin (my lightnin too)
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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