Heeding the Call to Their Expectations
Initiators, instigators, implementators...
Whatever you want to call people,
Who create their own dilemmas...
With an inviting of rage,
To then put the blame on someone else...
For actions they will not admit,
Are of their own making.
Although accuse those they say and do...
That they want out of their lives,
For not doing enough to help them...
When faced with a crisis,
Are those they despise publicly...
For not doing what they want done,
BECAUSE...
They are entitled.
And they wonder why their lives,
With whatever natural disasters they face...
Have come to affect them,
In places...
Where they have gone,
To isolate themselves...
Yelling for calls for 'help'!
Do the best the can to prioritize,
Their madness.
From 'who' or 'whom' or 'what'...
Do they believe,
Will come rushing to their aid?
Heeding the call to their expectations?
The very same people,
They have attempted to eliminate...
From being too controlling,
In being instrumental in their lives.
To dry their weeping eyes.
There is no doubt why people who shout,
Are being today...
More ignored.
With a focus that shows them to be,
The reasons why any progress is stalled.
Not only are these people 'nutts'.
They are clearly the ones needing to be locked up.
To allow humanity to rid its fences.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
What's wrong with our world?
Why are people abused
Why are people shot
Why do people commit suicide
Why are people anorexic and bulimic
Why do people care more about money than family
Why do people call themselves fat or ugly
Why are kids kidnapped and killed
Why do people die
Why do people tell you they love you and take it back
Why do people hurt each other
Why are people raped
Why do people cut themselves
Why do people hate their lives
Why do teenagers get pregnant
Why do people call each other names
Why are people raciest
Why are people depressed
Why are people put in mental hospitals
Why do peole do drugs
Why do people cuss
Why do people not care what happens to them
Why do people care what others think of them
What's wrong with our world
poem by Allison Boyles
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No use to blame
I just dropp the tears
When come across some unpleasant news to hear
Disturbing one in fact to destabilize inner soul
Decide not to see it again or hear it as unwanted call
Many regions are crisis ridden
In fact riding over calm volcano even
They have been kept alive for unknown reasons
The burden passes on innocent and poor persons
There is scope for settlement of crisis
Everybody is aware and anxious of peace
We need people who rally want and can make thrust
Crate awareness among people with enough of trust
Some of the elements try to inflame the situation
Jump in fray and incite the passion for continuation
Efforts such kind must find must find no favor
As there lies the question of death with honor
Many people have sacrificed lives for future generation
Live with neighbors in peaceful and harmonious relation
Create internal awareness and accommodate sentiments
So there remains no scope for any kind of resentment
Religious tolerance is one of the important factors
That can come up and threaten any where in any sectors
It is up to an individual how far he proves decisive
Where as many people create a wedge and forcefully drive
I try to give no credence to such people
As they are hell bent upon creating trouble
We have earned freedom with great struggle
We need to [preserve at any cost and we are capable too
No one may derive any benefit
But many may loose lives out of it
Whole of areas may go into flames
Then there won't be of any use to blame
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Wild Sea-Shore
Some people don't know how to say,
'Thank you' or even, 'I am sorry';
Like in poverty, hunger and in dirt;
You are naked before the eyes of the people.
Your body,
You say you are beautiful;
Your body,
It is exposed to the public eyes;
Of Ex-Boyfriends and Ex-Girlfriends,
Of Ex-Husbands and Ex-Wives,
As you lay your bed, so you shall sleep on it.
Another day, another hope;
Another song, another poem;
He had been always with her in the house.
Some people don't even know how say,
'Please';
Like a low miserable lives of hand-to-mouth,
To whisper to your ears with human sustenance;
Like a fair sea-circle with no sadness.
Of people, places and things;
Far in a darker Isle beyond the line,
Like our nakedness to the public.
A black dot,
A walk by the wils sea-shore;
With the actions of the people that i do meet;
'Please', 'I am sory', 'Thank you',
Are out of the peoples lips!
Just a clear call for me,
Face to face with the facts;
A walk by the wild sea-shore where,
The silent water slips from the hills.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Special People
The world is filled with special people,
who are there when you need them.
They blend into the background,
emerging only when we have troubles in our lives.
They are special people because they are there for us,
no matter how many problems their lives might possess.
They care for others more than they care for themselves.
These special people who touch our lives,
and whom we simply call our friends.
poem by David Harris
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Dress to Kill
That which once worked,
And relied upon to patch quarrels...
Before guns and knives were used,
To prove one to be upset with another.
Has no affect on emotions today.
Or offer to ease their tensions,
By having a quiet meal.
'Why are we making a big deal of this?
Let's go out and share a pizza.
And wear something casual.'
It seems as if some people insist,
On provoking some kind of conflict.
The use of common sense,
Is as outdated as watching someone,
Hand wash dishes.
Without a screaming match.
Or observing the preparation of a meal,
From scratch.
When was it seen someone did that?
And leaving that which is frozen in the 'frig'.
Not to microwave thing.
Today,
People are impatient with their own lives.
And have no respect for the lives lived by others.
Disagreements aren't settled through discussion.
Today...
People don't even bother to dress to kill!
Preferring the use of threats.
In their underwear,
People could care less...
If they are seen in public addressing their rage.
To eventually declare a 'temporary' mental insanity.
And lots of sympathy shown,
By those who totally understand.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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After Inviting the Activity and Creating Its Affects
Have you given a listen,
To those who compare themselves to others?
Those who do that,
Down to the last detail.
As if God has made their lives,
The mold for all of humanity.
An unsolicited opinion from them is always given.
However...
There is a unique difference,
Between those who do this and those who do not.
Those who do this,
Have not spent five minutes alone!
Not by themselves.
And...
An appreciation for life is missing.
And those who do not find reasons to compare,
Live independently.
A quality of life for them,
Seems to be one they seem to make and share.
And have done so for most of their lives.
They have jumped over the hurdles.
And tackled their own obstacles.
Alone.
How they have done this?
It is a faith they have and that is shown.
While those who seem to be in constant need,
To compare...
Seem not comfortable in their own skin.
And despise.
Listen to the way they find something to criticize.
And 'who' they do it to!
The only interest they seem to have,
Is to inform anyone who listens...
As to how busy they are in other people's lives.
With complaints of what it is they do...
After inviting the activity and creating its affects.
Unknowingly...
They show a complete masking of their insecurities.
And a fear that keeps them failing to face them...
On their own,
Alone!
They seek support for their beliefs,
To keep any growth that may go on...
Unshown or known that can be identified.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Despite The Lies, Deceit And Torment
People with selective memories,
Always want others not to remember...
What it was they had done.
Especially to those who have survived,
To heal from wounds to live happy lives...
Despite the lies, deceit and torment,
Some enjoyed inflicting upon them.
And...
Coincidentally,
They remain the same people today...
Who selectively 'choose' to forget,
What it was done they did decisively to others...
With a purpose to damage and affect their lives.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Their Closest Relatives
People hypnotized and transfixed,
Have grown more accustomed
To their movie productions.
And those creative emotional TV shows.
So accustomed to myths,
People are.
And the praying to what is believed,
To what has been embedded
In their minds,
Exists.
People do not wish to be told,
About the thought process of Nature.
And how that goes.
Or about Earth and Mother Nature.
The relationship between them.
How that works and what they know.
People wish and desire to accept,
They are more powerful
Than that which 'allowed' them life,
And gave to them breath.
People reject with a dismissing of this,
That which gifted them and permitted their lives.
People have grown more accustomed,
To their movie productions.
And those creative emotional TV shows.
Yet,
Give zero respect to their closest relatives.
The Sun, The Moon
And how together,
They affect their lives lived here on Earth.
People have chosen to become accustomed,
To ignoring as if they do not hear or listen.
Or are aware of them with comprehension.
People choose not to accept this as is.
People choose to believe from that which exist,
They are not born from it.
People choose for themselves to believe,
For them
There is no connection to perceive.
Even though what is they can not conceive,
Flows through their veins and bleeds!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Chosen To Do Nothing Else
They are a people who believe,
Division and infighting is a healthy process.
They are a people who believe,
Creating enemies and beginning wars...
Has a benefit to their kept self interests.
They are a people who believe,
They can and will do exactly as they please...
To leave mountains of debris behind them,
And blame the effectiveness of cleaning up...
On others whose lives they feel,
They are entitled to ruin.
Because they are a people,
Who seek ways to self destruct!
With beliefs they are chosen to do nothing else,
But deceive and corrupt!
And the evidence is obvious enough to see.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Life Is Truly Like A Stage
If we filmed all our lives,
Would people watch us as we cry,
Would people listen to our lies,
Would people sorrow as we die?
If our stories were to be told,
Would people let the stories unfold,
Would people notice us be so bold,
Would people love us as we grow?
If our lives were to intertwine,
Would people drink it as a wine,
Would people lurk as we shine,
Would people sit as we dine?
If we had a song to sing,
Would people listen to everything,
Would people know our love is like a ring,
Would people know you are my queen?
If we all had an undying love,
Would people let it fly like a dove,
Would people turn to the gods above,
Would people know of our true love?
If I had one thing to give,
Would people know your love is why I live,
Would people know the joy, to me, you give,
Would people know for your love I'd jump a cliff?
If you had one thing to take,
It would be my soul so great,
Now that people know my fate,
It is that my love for you came too late.
poem by Matthew Jenkins
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We meet people all the time....
We meet people all the time
Rich people with nothing
Poor people with the world
Kind people
Not so kind people
Funny people
People who think they are funny
People who laugh at other peoples pain
People who change the course of our lives
People whom we change their direction
Inspirational people
Caring people
Intelligent people
History tells us of people who create World misery
And the ones who end it
People who charm the socks off us (while we are wearing our shoes!)
People who steal our affections
People who give us undeserved affections
All the time we meet people
Wouldn’t it be nice if this poem didn’t label them though?
poem by Wanelisa Albert
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When, in Actuality...
If one has spent,
A lifetime of feeding upon nonsense...
With an unquestioned defending of it,
Difficult will it be...
To free one from such a mindset,
Of restricted limitations...
That does not afford one,
Eye opening and boundless visions...
Expanding one's consciousness.
Especially,
When there has been an enforcement to label...
Those around one,
As weirdos, misfits and freaks.
The very ones they have been taught to despise,
With a disrespect that is complete.
When,
In actuality...
These are the people who are 'not' in desperate need,
To change their lives.
When,
In actuality...
People like this long ago ostracized,
May have been the ones criticized...
However,
Reality has always been a consciousness for them lived.
And not one attempted to hide.
And today,
Those now found crying with tear duct swollen eyes...
Have too late awakened to realize,
Every known aspect of their lives...
Has been totally based upon manipulation.
And a deception of beliefs...
That has thrived upon platforms of lies and denials.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Why do people play with blood ?
Why do people play with blood when it gives no pleasure and only pain?
Why do people wag a war when it gives only losses and no gain?
Why do people play with mud when it never tones up but tarnishes their images?
Why do people play the blame -game when it never solves the problem but increases?
Why do people hit the greats when it gives them less fame and more blasphemy?
Why do people create controversy when it gives less positive and more negative publicity?
Why do people lie when do they know in it there is only ugliness and no beauty?
Why do people do jealousy when they do know that it shows their own bankruptcy?
Why do people lick the legs of power when it shows their weakness- the sycophancy?
Why do people do hypocrisy when they do know that they are telling lies?
Why do people heed to the greed when they do know the sweetness of life dies?
Why do people fall in lecherous lust when they do know it eats their own flesh?
Why do people play tricks when they do know that it shows only their foolishness?
Why do people do corruption when they do know it is the selling of their souls?
Why do people do nepotism when they do know it is the quality of them which falls?
Why do people love more self than any one else when they do know it is a disease - narcissism?
Why do people hate people when they do know it is the murder of humanism?
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Der Ganzen Welt
I love the city
and all its connections
people laid out before you
hundreds of faces
like ads for people with needs
I love the streets
and all of its directions
people speeding to see one another
I love the net
and all of its connections
curious people
teaching people
laying their lives out
behind your computer screen
I love the net
and all of its directions
people's chaotic lives
messy humanity
all linked together
I love the world
and all of its people
families, friends
ties and binds
on our little world
we have so much in comon
so many similarities, connections
'Love is a word
what matters is the connection the word implies.'
poem by Justin Tang
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Someone Cares About Them
Sometimes we meet people
with so much pain in their lives.
Pain we could hardly touch upon.
They are good people, emotional people,
whom life has dealt some nasty blows,
more nasty blows than our lives have felt.
They have seen things and done things
repellent to our lives,
but listening to them speak
and seeing the hurt within their eyes,
you realise the pain
they must be going through.
nightmares that plague their lives.
It makes you want to stretch out
and hug them for all its worth
just to let them know
someone cares about them.
28 July 2008
poem by David Harris
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Those Pigeons Inside My Box...
...nevertheless
do not attempt to call this
art,
not actually nonsense
because these are all landmarks
of sorts,
friends without names here
but when i scan
i always remember what they did with their lives
and how they wish
to reshape them to reinvent what broken lines are there
furrowed on their faces
people that strike me with disbelief
lives like the flash of lightning
making so much thunder
a community bewildered
losing hope
expectations crashing down
like earthquake
productions
ah, these moments of truths
there are all here
captured like pigeons inside
a box of wood
they will not be killed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Unbelievable News
Most people wont accept blame,
For something that they have purposely done.
Even in the midst of the act of it,
They will fault and accuse someone else.
And from both sides of their mouths.
Unable to admit they have planted seeds of destruction,
Are the ones sitting in positions today...
Denying their participation,
In the chipping away of that which once had value.
To say how quickly standards are eroding.
And it doesn't matter what kind of relationship,
One declares is dissolving.
The odds are not in their favor if they are heard,
To be backstabbing anyone to then declare...
'I wish someone would tell me what is going on! '
~Of course I am no authority on these matters,
But I would think it has something to do...
With those actions you had taken in the past,
And the ones you have just done.~
'When had a wee bit of exaggeration to embellish,
With just a tad of spreading innocent rumors...
Ever brought harm to anyone?
They are not 'real' lies but the twisting of truths.
For entertaining purposes.
I am not the only one that does it.'
~I'm shocked.
Really?
This is unbelievable news.
Let me find those whose lives you've destroyed,
To tell them they have reasons now to rejoice.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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People Have Their Ways
People have a way to decide who are their friends and enemies
People have some dissapointments in life
But do they recognize their dissapointments in life?
Can people go through moments of despair alone?
Or do they need God?
Do the people live making promises but they are neve able to keep it or Deliver it
Do people fear people?
Yes they fear people because they think that they might be mistreated or Robed by new people
Their souls, their feeling, and their love
Do people make us welcome in their lives?
Not all the time because we are different
But unique in different ways
poem by Aldo Kraas
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My Safe Place
Drawings of seventy three people,
A map of the place where they all live,
I am amongst these people, and
I can hear them in conversation,
Although nobody who lives outside of this room can-
I have given this place a name- a self-fabricated name-
I have found happiness here
Within this world I call my own.
This is my safe place-
This place where skies are touched with clouds of pink and gray,
This place where all is quiet, except for the rushing sound
Of the clear water in the creek that runs through.
Here in this place where nobody cares
What time of day people go to sleep or what hour that they awaken-
This is the place where nobody ever gets angry or slights one another-
Here where we dance when it rains and
Where we laugh when the sun is shining over that creek,
But the sun never burns us.
I have locked the silver gate that exits to the world outside,
So that untrustworthy and belligerent people cannot enter-
This is what I have called my safe place, although
Some say it is dangerous in some sort of way.
Some say that it is dangerous to deny what is real, and
To live in a self formulated world,
Ignoring the lives of three billion people,
Feeling no empathy for those in pain and those fighting in wars out there-
While listening to voices that only I can hear or those I care to hear.
I feel that that world has not been kind to me and
There is so much out there that I fear and it is with great irony
That people are so fearful of my own unfamiliarity- although
To me people who live in this great earth outside of my safe place
Are just as foreign to me as I am to them- I must say that
If I were to continuously wear the key to that silver gate about my neck-
Keeping myself safe here amongst my made up community, I can
Live in my world and others live in theirs and we won't have to fear one another- as
Unfamiliarity is synonymous with danger to so many people.
The sun shall shine upon both places and everyone shall be safe, and
Nobody- not myself, my own special friends or
Those living in the world outside of here
Shall ever get burned…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Suffering From Head Wounds
Those told what to do most of their lives,
What to think, how to think...
What not to believe or listen to.
And who is stupid,
Because of their physical appearances...
Are those who are most traumatized,
By the sign of these rapidly changing times.
Not all...
But most people have been conditioned to believe,
That the unchanged color of a house...
Also determines what goes on inside.
No matter how many renovations have taken place.
Or evolving maturities of the people living in it.
All people will do is to talk about what they 'knew'.
Or what they've been told.
And...
Most of the time what is known,
Had been heard from one's now grown children...
Or a pet dog or cat,
Programmed to be reliable.
But not from the horse's mouth!
People rather beat their horses to death,
Repeatedly.
Those told most of their lives,
What to think, how to think...
What not to believe or listen to.
And who is stupid,
Because of their physical appearances...
Are those who are most traumatized,
By the sign of the times.
Without being medicated,
Few people are sure if and when they should...
Take a left or right turn,
Why and for what purpose.
And if they should or should not ignore,
Signs that warn them to yield and pay attention...
With caution!
People have been taught to believe and do as they please,
Because...
Well,
They are entitled to do so for the rest of their lives.
'Medic...
There's another one over here suffering from head wounds.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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