Harvesting of Weeds
Why wait and sit,
With anticpation?
Has it been deposited,
Within anyone...
Familiar with it?
An absence of respect,
Has long been accepted.
And when neglect of it is shown...
Pleading moans,
Go unheeded.
A fertilized seeding unknown,
Left to grow alone...
In minds unaware of its existence,
Are distant.
Why wait for a flourishing to occur?
When none of it was sewn.
An organic matter has been scattered.
And a firm planting of this,
Was never homegrown!
A protection of these flowers were left...
To set aside wrapped and unpackaged,
For a harvesting of weeds.
A priority of the majority has succeeded.
Feeding to produce seducing delusions!
To heighten imaginations that cropped.
And gathered, stocked and baled like hay.
For horseplay!
Or other enhanced enchantments.
And quick to burn nonstop.
Allowing a smoking to choke,
Hallucinating induced dreams wished.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Gone Unknown By Those Who Feast
Some are born to sow beliefs,
To seed the growth of their feeding.
With a sewing done to aid their flourishing.
Many sit to watch a seeding sown,
To gather from a harvest...
With a feeding of their selfish needs shown.
And those familiar with others,
Misrepresenting the dispersement of their deeds...
Gone unknown by those who feast.
Are the least concern where it is they go,
To sow with a planting of their feet.
With tools provided to allow them to eat,
From 'Whom' bestows those seeds kept to grow.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Will Always Be Crime
As long as there are excuses made to keep it...
There will always be crime.
As long as it is identified,
And left untreated.
There will always be crime.
As long as there is a system that feeds it...
With statistics gathered,
As if score cards are needed.
And as long as what is being done,
Is taught to those young!
There will always be crime.
And those who make a living to pocket from it!
Crime as it has been flourished to become known...
Will always be a part of greed and its existence!
Giving those who are employed to define it,
A reason to depict it and where to keep it fed!
Just like maintaining a sickness,
To overcrowd hospitals...
To fill folks with illnesses to strap them to beds.
There will 'always' be an atmosphere,
Where fear induced minds produce crime!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Scattered
This song is dedicated to the memory of
Annie florence davies and carol bryans.
Like a seed that is sewn
All the children are scattered
By a breeze that is blown
Now the crops are all scattered
We are torn, we are shattered
Now some of us are barmy and battered
And the fields where we gathered
Are overgrown in weeds and in tatters
Through it all we were scattered
To the fields we are scattered
From the day we are born
To grow wild and sleep rough
Till from the earth we are torn
And a soul that is free
Can live on eternally
And the spirit can live on
Though its scattered in the world beyond
And Ive been out of my mind
Ever since shes been gone
I look around that empty room
No sight nor sound
Shes left so soon
Shes out of view
But the I find
Those scattered clues she left behind
A photograph with a smiling face
A cigarette stubbed out on the fireplace
A coffee cup with her lipstick stains
I guess Ill never see her again
Now my life is all scattered
Ever since shes been gone
I feel older, I feel fatter
I feel the blues coming on
We get bruised
We get battered
But well pick up the pieces that scattered
And with emotional glue
Were gonna stick together, body and mind
Ever since she went away
Ive been alone to contemplate
Time and space and why worlds move
While sitting in my solitude
Ive watched the stars and wondered why
Theyre scattered up there in the sky
And is she up there out of view
On some higher platitude
I wish I knew
Wish I could prove
The reason why this life on earth
Is scattered like the universe
Im scattered here and scattered there
Bits of me scattered everywhere
To the fields we are scattered
Then from the dust we are born
We survive somewhat battered
To a new life, a new dawn
In the end what will it matter
Therell only be my ashes to scatter
And all the logical answers
To a worrying mind
Will be scattered in time
Beaten and battered
To the earth you are scattered
Youre going home so what does it matter
To an atomic mind
Scattered here while you travel time
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prejudices, it is well known, are most difficult to eradicate from the heart whose soil has never been loosened or fertilized by education; they grow firm there, firm as weeds among stones.
quote by Charlotte Bronte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Insomnia Seeding Organic Lives
social orbs
circles bonds
interactions
night spun webs
spin vision dreams
heighten emotions
work career endeavour
meteor blazing flight
ionizing illuminating night
heartbeats thought waves
shape minds dissimilar
awe originality inspires
what achievements
rock solar systems
seeding organic lives?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Prejudices, it is well known, are most difficult to eradicate from the heart whose soil has never been loosened or fertilized by education they grow there, firm as weeds among rocks.
quote by Charlotte Bronte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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They Have Already Murdered Their Futures
They have already murdered their futures.
With an allowing of a lack of discipline.
And the loss of self respect shown and given.
What future do they expect to have,
With no investment left protected in it.
And assisting to dismantle their own identities?
With a hope their insecurities will be accepted?
They have already murdered their futures.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Planting Misdeeds
Envy and jealousy kept to keep to spread,
Eventually creeps into the heads of others.
And this feeling deep seated,
Increases in the minds of sisters and brothers...
To find them defeated every time.
With hidden agendas and secret plots to deplete,
Happiness shown of any kind
Leaving a hatred left to suffer by all.
Take a look.
Petty thieves, leeching crooks and deceivers...
Are everywhere planting misdeeds.
Ask yourself this question.
'With what effectiveness am I participating,
In the nurturing of weeds to kill the bloom of flowers?
And is my progress as successful as it can be? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Never Accepted What Their Eyes Have Shown
Something in their heads,
Have them programmed to believe...
They should not respect themselves.
Or expect they can and could achieve.
Something missing in their heads,
Should have connected them to a maturity.
Something that recognized,
Who should be responsible...
And accountable for their activities.
Something in their minds,
Should have made eye contact with themselves.
Something said or they did not see...
A reflection of themselves yet!
One accepted and believed.
Something has left.
And will never return.
Something that should have been taught.
But for them,
Never to be learned!
And that is why they hide from themselves.
They dislike and despise what they see!
And they have never accepted,
What their eyes have shown!
They are afraid to be who they are.
Even alone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fruits of Labor
The implementation and the planting of it,
Had been documented.
With an acknowledgement well known...
As to who had did this,
As a reaping of a harvest by all was sewn.
No one objected,
To the weeds seen and grown.
Since an anticipated fruits of labor...
Was expected to leave sweetened tastes,
To satisfy without a frown shown.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Watching The Grass Grow
Incorrect perceptions,
Are imposed and projected...
By those with unchanged beliefs.
And fixed to satisfied stagnation.
Or impressions made,
Through assumptions placed
Upon imaginations.
Watching the grass grow,
May be someone's ambition.
In fact...
What is the scientific purpose for grass?
I don't think I've ever heard that asked.
Have you?
And minds like these are difficult to replace.
Since so many are deluded,
By that which does not exist.
But wished.
And observing this against a reality known...
As shown to be accepted by those conscious,
Becomes clear why there is much conflict of interest.
And a need for so many to forever play,
The cowboys against the indians.
The good against the bad.
And the ugly...?
Well,
We do all have our missions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lack Of Interest
What is in the minds of those,
Who believe they can organize an event...
A week or two before the event is to take place.
And then left to be disappointed,
By the lack of interest shown.
'I would love to participate,
With the giving of my time.
But calling me at midnight,
Two days before the event...
Expecting my excitement.
When you spent an entire year,
Procrastinating?
Thank you for your show of respect.
But at this hour,
I would like to get more rest.'
What is in the minds of those,
Who believe they can organize an event...
A week or two before the event is to take place.
And then left to be disappointed,
By the lack of interest shown.
With an advertising campaign,
Gone unknown.
~We didn't think you'd be that serious about it,
Since we are just throwing it together.
With a hope of its success.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Left to Puff Up to Float
Some folks live,
To stay where they are.
Embracing their yesterdays...
To add their versions that ignites,
An excited wish...
To have those days relived,
As they are told.
The 'how-things-use-to-be' folks...
Swatting away flies from their molded stories.
From a stoop or a porch...
Or from a corner that is now paved,
Where they once played upon a dusty road.
There they stand proud and in the way,
Of someone on the move.
Someone passing through!
As they evaluate each step placed they take!
Discussing amongst themselves...
Whether or not they should approve.
And 'who' thinks they are,
Better than 'who'!
As they become distant from those...
Who have chosen to stay,
With their minds in times frozen and closed!
Recruiting young ones,
Impressed with their stagnation.
Those of similar kind and like minds,
Groomed to complain and whine...
About the current times they find.
Listening to embellished beliefs.
Leaving few taught,
That they should reach...
For their aspirations and dreams,
To become implanted.
For a flourishing tomorrow!
But as sorrows are shared...
A tomorrow for them,
Has yet to occur.
For them this awareness,
Has been for them intentionally blurred!
Or even the notion to live...
And be in the 'now' to stir a motivation!
But this implementation,
Is not a seed sown to harvest...
In minds fed on killer weeds!
Passed and expected,
To be received.
And so they too...
Are left to puff up to float,
Like the others!
To exclaim with their druthers...
How 'good' the stuff to them they get!
Just like 'how-things-use-to-be'...
Yesterday and those days before!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It's Just Too Familiar
What secrets left could anyone have,
That has sold everything of value...
Because of a feeding of greed?
And the price was right.
What secrets left could anyone have,
That threatens a way of life...
Someone in the past did not prioritize,
Because of an absence of one's integrity?
Maybe the director of this movie,
Should have found another way to tell this story.
It's just too familiar.
And the outcome is predictable.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No Wish to Fill a Vacancy
How did I stop what?
Aging?
As Long as I live and breathe...
Doing 'that' by anyone today,
You can say is an impossibility.
However...
I have stopped seeking aggravation.
And sharing with others,
Headaches they could not wait
To dump updated complaints to relate.
I've stopped sitting to get return calls...
I placed to those,
Who had forgotten I had called at all.
I have made myself number one on my priority list.
And no longer dismiss my own happiness.
That is probably what you now see in me!
An attitude I don't hestitate to give and leave...
In a belief I should please others I care about,
Who have shown me they could care less...
If I am down and out.
Or mugged or mauled,
As I lay half dead on one knee as I crawled.
There is nothing like being shown,
Who has what or who on their minds and when!
That removes wrinkles and stops a frown,
From taking up residency on my face and skin!
And that is probably what you see.
An absence of that.
With no wish to fill a vacancy!
'I 'hope' God reminds me to just say 'hello'
The next time I bump into you.
Have a great day!
And 'who' should 'we' thank...
That you have no 'ego' in the way? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mentally Blocked and Forgotten
Mandatory awakenings,
Are eclipsing on the horizon.
Fading fast are thoughts from the past...
And a firm grasp on delusions,
Slip from grips
To be tossed like trash.
Minds are being lifted,
To insights before unknown!
And many will find themselves left behind...
Trying to define their identities,
When enlightenment is all
Those shown will condone!
Leaving concepts no longer existing...
And those resisting feeling quite alone!
Mentally blocked and forgotten.
Roaming the Earth as useless drones.
With no food for thought to share...
Yet providing Vultures an assortment,
Of picked over bones
Once buried deep in despair.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Conservative Voices
Conservative voices,
Are better heard in the desert.
Pick one.
It doesn't matter which!
And left stranded,
With imagined visions...
Of a perfected way of life,
As an oasis.
Especially by those numbed,
And believing...
Words dripping from their parched lips,
Are not merely hallucinations...
From being out in the Sun too long,
Without sunscreen or thoughts connecting.
While feeding on a diet of delusions,
That has brought an entire society to the brink of disaster.
Hypnotized by their craze.
And influenced by their lust for greed!
Thank God the majority of the people,
Chose not to live in luxurious lofts!
Or highrise condos...
To experience daily nose bleeds.
With beliefs that they are living high and mighty.
Locked within recycled polluted air...
Sickening themselves,
At the price of a good view.
Just think of it...
If they were in their right minds,
Wouldn't they be greater than the claims being made?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Haunted By My Own
Haunted by my own.
Haunted by a bloodline...
My ancestors have sewn.
And I confess...
My obsession to do my best!
This wont leave me alone.
I feel I am here,
To make their voices known.
I can not neglect a moment of respect.
To be perceived as a disrespect.
I must protect and protest indignities!
Haunted by my own.
Haunted by a bloodline...
My ancestors have sewn.
And I confess...
The challenge to please them,
Leaves me restless to achieve.
To heights of a success...
That will have all believe I have succeeded.
And my ancestors can attest,
I have done them well!
Although my haunting will continue,
Since they and I are not quite through...
To convince with proof what I am here to do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Blood On Their Hands
Delusions are difficult to erase,
From minds nourished to believe...
They are entitled to take and receive,
And do as they please.
Delusions fed,
Can not envision concepts...
Of having little to nothing left,
To continue feeding a greed.
Every aspect of this consciousness,
Has been spoiled by intriguing propaganda.
And hyped to delight in another's defeat.
Without a self reflection done or apology.
But a brick wall stalls when made of concrete.
And hitting one's head against it,
Does not advance one to a conquering done...
Sweetened by victory.
As one would like to rewrite history.
A brick wall made,
And built thickened by concrete...
Only leaves a head beatened against it,
To bleed internally.
Since prior activities,
To ensure it isolates and stands...
Has been built by the very ones,
With blood now on their hands.
And drips...
Without consideration,
Of an evaluation to self examine.
And this has created,
Unhealthy mindsets that debate matter over substance...
With an absence of reason and cause.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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