Here To Leave Their Garbage
I don't allow myself or my time to be played with.
What would be the point to lay back and waste it?
Or complain about others,
Taking their lives too seriously?
Isn't that the purpose?
Neither the time or the experience to live it,
To do 'something' beneficial...
Was not meant to whine and dine,
With a trashing done to take for granted.
Is that the reason why we all are here?
I would think we would want to do our best,
With an appreciation expressed somehow.
However...
Many believe they are here to leave their garbage,
For someone else to clean up behind them.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Use To Scuttlebutt
Any time spent evaluating is beneficial.
And taking life for granted,
Is ultimately what one discovers...
During this process.
Time is not on hold and waiting for no one.
Or is it clipping fingernails to improve the look,
Of its hands!
They move forward,
That's it!
Many sit and wish their lives were different,
Than the ones they lived yesterday.
When they were sitting wishing their lives,
Were different than they were...
When those yesterdays came to then go away.
The problem with most people...
Being real with themselves!
And detest others who are!
Listen to those who complain closely.
It is either someone or something done...
That comes between them,
And what it is they wish to do.
Rarely is it that those who make attempts,
Have the time to whine or dine to then say to another...
'I know I shouldn't have done that!
I can't afford to gain one more pound.'
People lie to themselves.
And listening to those who complain closely...
They will excuse what they do to repeat what they've done.
And protest about it when they are denied.
To then get upset,
When someone chooses to walk away from them...
And the nonsense they have prioritized,
To use to scuttlebutt!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Garbage Can
Life is sometimes not as planned
What could be worse than a garbage can
For you are tossed and thrown away
just like the garbage to rot each day
Taken for granted by a ladies man
A woman is mistreated as much as she can
Love forsaken and lust Oozes out...
To put away his filth without any doubt
In the name of love this game is played
And it is defined as masquerade
The clock turns 8 and it's time to leave
The garbage is out and the man at ease
poem by Meena Mustafa
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Lost As A Treasured Experience
If it was not meant to be taken seriously,
None of it would have been given to be taken
With a purpose to receive,
And comprehend its meaning.
Instead of comprehending the meaning of it,
It has been left to sit
As of its existence is there to provide,
One a uselessness.
And one who has decided,
That all there is to it was to use
Until the nourishment from it was exhausted.
Then an exhaustion from taking it for granted
Leaves.
If
It was not meant to be taken seriously,
What is the purpose for any of it to exist.
Just to please the existing of the unimportance,
To prioritize an increasing toleration of nonsense.
And
If nonsense continues to increase,
The purpose of witnessing any of this
Diminishes in value to be lost as a treasured experience.
Never to have been found worthy of its priceless blessing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In The Midst Of Creating Conflict
Wishing for a past to return to relive,
Has to be those wishes made by the ones...
Doing a procrastinating done.
They did it then and still do now.
And there are many living,
Who believe they are owed to be served.
As if for no other reason they exist.
To live to criticized to bemoan their failures.
And the ones who go unnoticed,
With a sacrificing done to condone...
Take no one or anything for granted.
With a doing not to complain or it shown.
And...
Often those believing they are owed to be served,
Are in the midst of creating conflict...
Anywhere they are allowed to critique and whine.
With a finding of doing this as fulfilling their purpose.
As if to make their presence known.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Awaiting For a Black History Date
Those awaiting for a Black History date,
To express their appreciation...
For contributions their own kind make.
Are those trying to find,
Approval for these acts.
That had been laid and placed in past decades...
For the chance to enhance and romance,
Deeds done to eliminate...
The sweat endured to produce the facts.
And how can a 'Black History'...
Take just a few days,
To confirm any of that?
To gather to celebrate the lives of these folks...
Should be done on a daily basis.
And not when just provoked.
Or joked when adorning attire...
Meant to invoke a connection that inspires.
It is difficult to live each day as it is...
In a society that has done its best,
To disavow the truth as it is lived.
And taking one month to proclaim one's identity...
Seems a waste of time.
When people rather wine and dine.
Especially if thoughts are not carried around...
With a discipline within that is deep down.
Or with an integrity that does not disappear...
Before Spring has yet to begin!
And the Winter cold and snow...
Has from steps safely cleared.
'I'm Black and I'm proud! '
No doubt.
But...
When?
What time of the year?
And what are you wearing...
Before those thoughts of yours,
Come to an end.
Hmmm?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Is A Reason And Rhyme That Connects
No one should assume,
They know someone so well...
As to take their expression of concern,
For granted.
Or believe they have stopped doing it,
Because that person is in an attitude...
And has exclusively to them shown this.
For no apparent reason.
And they have expressed this 'moodiness',
Before in the past to them.
If someone is taken for granted like that,
With beliefs that have not been validated.
But has been treated indifferently as time progresses,
By those with unfounded beliefs they hold onto...
They can also assume,
That a concern once expressed...
Will not again be addressed,
By someone who has stopped caring...
Less,
What it is that they believe.
Eventually those assumptions held in their minds,
Will connect to find...
Someone that has been dismissed,
To them has been genuine.
There is a reason and rhyme that connects,
To everything with time given it that takes place.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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They've Chosen To Be Winners
Picking up those pieces from a running done.
Now taking time when before they gave none.
Less they find offensive too.
With fresh sentiments meant,
They've improved.
Sticking to a purpose with a focused aimed
With minds more open.
And those attitudes changed.
A new day dawning has to them been sent.
To send defensive motives flushed,
With their fluxing minds now rinsed.
And...
They've chosen to be winners!
With those sentiments meant.
Winners.
With those sentiments meant.
Winners.
With those sentiments meant.
To leave behind their indifference.
They have chosen to be winners.
With those sentiments meant.
Winners.
With those sentiments meant.
They're winners.
With those sentiments meant.
To leave behind their indifference.
Picking up those pieces from a running done.
Now taking time when before they gave none.
Less they find offensive too.
With fresh sentiments meant they've improved.
And...
They've chosen to be winners!
With those sentiments meant.
Winners.
With those sentiments meant.
They're winners.
With those sentiments meant.
To leave behind their indifference.
They are winners.
With those sentiments meant.
Winners.
With those sentiments meant.
They're winners.
With those sentiments meant.
To leave behind their indifference.
To now say and to claim that they are...
Winners.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Every Right There Is To Complain
You have the right to vote.
Invoke, provoke and joke.
Even going through the motions,
Is encouraged to promote.
And...
You also have the right,
To dislike being taxed.
With a growing of them stacked,
Packed and gift wrapped.
However...
The right not to pay them,
Will not get your property back.
And those who have tried that,
Have every right there is to complain.
With a vocalization done tear stained.
Remember this,
Your rights to be heard are granted.
And what you believed is wished,
Has been granted the right to be dismissed.
These are facts you can trace to track.
And...
With your disappearance into the woodwork,
One of the best rights you have,
That will achieve the quickest endorsement...
You will experience yet.
Without the need for a costly compaign.
This,
Believe it or not...
Is no exaggeration.
There you will find,
Your position taken advocated!
With a waste of your time and efforts observed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Ones Who Now Look Back
For most of their lives,
They did exactly what they wanted.
And signs of change,
Were beginning to glow...
With neon messages no one could ignore.
Those choices chosen,
Were made regardless of objections raised...
By those who were told where to go.
And those places told where to go,
Have been taken without looking back.
And the ones who now look back,
Wondering where those who were told to go...
Away to live in their own worlds,
Have done so to live lives...
Without taking theirs for granted.
As those who look back seeking satisfaction,
Have come to realize their own satisfactions...
Had been placed on the wrong track.
With a blaming on others,
As to where their lives lived are at.
'Excuse me,
But can you tell me...
If that boat that sailed many years ago from here,
Is due to make a comeback anytime soon? '
~I'm sorry I couldn't.
I don't live in this neighborhood.
Have you tried asking any ot those people over there,
Standing on the corner watching their lives go by?
I'm sure they haven't been anywhere.
You could spend time with them reminiscing.
And they could probably answer that question for you.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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More Time For God
When I give God more of my all, that fleshly choice, is rather small,
I need to more than simply agree, I need to give my God, all of me.
Everything that I think is mine, was granted to me by God’s design,
Granted by God, with the thought, that from my life fruit is wrought.
Even this very life, which I live, becomes a privilege for me to give,
My entire being back to God, to be used by Him, while on this sod,
To be employed, in a Heavenly way, while I live my life, day to day,
My choice becomes clear to me, as I look beyond towards Eternity.
But, while I’m still upon this earth, I stumble in matters of little worth,
My flesh isn’t always on my side, this when in Christ I want to abide,
Knowing that God uses all of us, to promote the Kingdom of Jesus,
Using a Believer’s available time, to point souls to a World Sublime.
Sometimes, with free time at hand, I neglect the things I understand,
Like, redeeming my time down here, while on this evil earthly sphere,
To point men to a Glorious Heaven, well beyond the religious leaven,
To Christ, this world’s only Door, to the place where time is no more.
The time which I use, I must spend, for a greater purpose, in the end;
Any wasted time cannot be ignored, when I desire to serve The Lord,
For all time for God is well spent, as God makes one’s heart content,
When one strives to serve The King, giving The Lord their everything.
(Copyright ©10/2009)
What Time It Is
An awakening done by anyone discovering,
The day, month and year to them that comes...
Are all connected together to help understand,
What time it is.
And the many others living like them...
Are also here to experience it.
But without the seeking for definitions.
As a tick tocking heard that begins to knock begins.
When that 'concept' of life starts to dawn,
On someone's mind...
It brings a clarity and comprehension,
As to why there are people living their lives...
Without excuses to make or faults to find.
And something happens to trigger their appreciation,
For those who have found out 'what-time-it-is'...
As they live not in haste to waste it on anything or anyone petty!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Song: On Borrowed Time
We're all living on borrowed time,
Near the brooding sea and brine.
And we grow our primate's spine,
In every clime.
Since we crawled out from 'neath the grime,
And evolved to a species – prime.
We've been living on borrowed time,
On borrowed time.
On borrowed time. We feed and dine.
On borrowed time. In swill like swine.
On borrowed time. We sup our wine.
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
On borrowed time. In slow decline.
On borrowed time. No season shines.
On borrowed time. No reason rhymes.
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
We're all living on borrowed time,
Acting out our roles in mime,
As if you cannot tell that I'm confused.
We're all living on borrowed time,
And we're captured hook and line.
Enraptured lives entwine as minds unloose.
On borrowed time, by frantic chime,
Of doomsday clocks and scam sub-prime.
On borrowed time, we count the dime.
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
From that day of Eve's droll crime,
When dull Adam su*ked the lime,
We've been living on borrowed time,
On borrowed time.
On borrowed time. By dread defined.
On borrowed time. Knee-deep in slime.
On borrowed time. We moan and whine.
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
On borrowed time. To heights sublime.
On borrowed time. Statistics climb.
On borrowed time. Who reads the signs?
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
poem by David SmithWhite
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In Our Lives
If we all just sat and wished,
For everything we believed missed
In our lives.
Much of our lives would be dismissed.
Without realizing...
So much of the experience of it,
Has been spent wishing.
With little of it adventured.
And hoping for more time,
To waste in waiting.
As a hesitation in procrastination,
Is granted a freedom we allow and protect...
With the very best of our excuses.
In our lives...
We thrive on comparisons to survive.
To be munched,
Like a bunch of clustered nuts!
Dipped.
And surrounded by delicious chocolate.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Who's Gonna Know Their Life Is...
Who's gonna know their life is...
Choices made to live it.
And what they choose to do,
with the manifested tools they use.
Who's gonna know their life is...
What's on their mind.
And...
Not to waste with contemplation,
Time to find to whine.
Now,
Who's gonna know their life is...
Lived to take chances and risks.
Who's gonna know their life is...
More than games and foolishness.
And who's gonna know their life is...
Reaching to fulfill all dreams.
And not to live for the easiness,
To sit back and scheme.
Oh,
Who's gonna know their life is...
Lived to take chances and risks.
And who's gonna know their life is...
More than games and foolishness.
And who's gonna know their life is...
Reaching to fulfill all dreams.
And not to live for the easiness,
To sit back and scheme.
Until they live a life of purpose,
Nothing meant to them has meaning.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In the Giving There's A Benefit
To have awakened is a good thing to be!
And I have learned,
In the many years it has taken me to do it...
That the being there for someone else,
Will not automatically be interpretated...
As an appreciation to be shown one day,
With a reciprocation known that's received.
I have learned,
There will be many taking others for granted...
With a doing which is believed,
A duty to misuse someone dependable.
Until a reality hits and a doing this is missed.
And a waiting to sit by a telephone,
Wishing to hear it ring is a familiar sound gone.
I have learned,
In the giving there's a benefit.
And I have learned,
Those who give are not desperate.
To have awakened is a good thing to be.
And I have learned,
Those who give are not desperate.
I have learned,
In the giving there's a benefit.
And I have learned...
To leave alone,
Those who take for granted...
Someone giving up their time to misuse.
I have learned,
In the giving there's a benefit.
And I have learned...
Those who give are not desperate.
Oh yes I've learned...
To leave alone,
Those who take for granted...
Someone giving up their time to abuse.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Best Gift One Can Receive
Awakening from values placed,
On the emptiness of symbols and images...
Can save a lot of waste of one's appreciation,
For others and their worth as human beings.
People wait until it is too late,
To live their lives from a basic point of view.
Believing the purpose of life is in acquiring things,
To pursue with a flaunting of pretentions.
Today people are teaching their children,
It is okay to take from others.
Then find what they have done,
Disappoints with the results that come.
Today people do not accept,
Their own consequences they face.
Only to place blame and find fault,
With those directions they chose to take.
Awakening from values placed,
On the emptiness of symbols and images...
Can save a lot of waste of one's appreciation,
For others and their worth as human beings.
Awakening before it is too late,
To self examine...
Is not a sign of weakness.
It is the best gift one can receive.
Afterall...ultimately,
Is it what one has that delivers to them happiness?
Or...
Is it the caring of someone shown that is freely given,
And genuinely felt and known...
That validates with an acknowledgement,
What they have been seeking that is regarded as progress.
'I've given you every 'thing' that money can buy.
And you act as if I don't exist.
It is as if...
I don't know who you are,
Anymore.'
~Oh?
And 'who' are you?
Who are 'we'?
WHAT are we?
Machines are being made...
To 'do' what we 'do'.
Other than self destruction...
What other purpose do we serve? ~
'I'll see you later.
When,
Hopefully...
You are in a better mood.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Know the Ones
Aren't you tired of the folks who pass judgement?
You know the ones...
Quick to tell you how you should live
Always taking handouts from those they take for granted,
Criticizing the people who take their time to give.
Aren't you sick of those who waste your time to gossip?
You know the ones,
Glued to phones like weapons,
To add fresh lies to what they've heard!
They are nowhere to be found,
To assist 'you' when you need 'them',
But first to arrive to offer a discouraging word.
Aren't you fed up with their lack of time to listen?
Don't you wish they would grow and want to learn?
Even though they blame others for their troubling lives,
They will never feel ashamed,
To express their own limits of concern!
A repeated lesson you have learned?
You know the ones...
With their heads turned!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Pigeon Poem
The Pigeon is taking food away from her mate today,
or he is taking food away from his mate today.
She is taking food to put on fat for winter time,
or he is taking food from her to dine.
Pigeons are like people cause people are like that.
feeding Pigeons in the park is fine,
old people have the time, to dine with pigeons;
Time i have today:
the time i play away
thinking of (?)
the pigeons as I dine.
I am fine.
She is putting on her fat.
He is just out to dine.
People are like pigeons.
people are like that.
poem by Charles Hice
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Quick to Dump Their Junk
Some seem ready to jump into a garbage dump.
Quick to dump their junk,
And then start running.
Quicker to abuse their minds.
Quicker to find the time to whine.
And quick to say who's nuts...
And who ain't crazy.
It seems easier to walk away from people raging.
Easier to say who should be who they are.
Easier to start a fight.
Easier to say who's not living right.
And easier to be the one who sleeps at night.
Quick and easy it seems not to worry.
It appears some live lives free of mental strife.
Quick and easy it seems for them not to hurry.
When a life they choose to live,
Is not disguised by lies.
It seems some can take their lumps and not be moaning.
Or groan from Sunrise 'til that Sun goes down.
Whether they keep a faith.
Or pray every second of each day.
They don't walk around,
With a face to frown.
Why is it...
Some seem ready to jump into a garbage dump?
And why is it...
Some are quick to dump their junk,
And run?
Why are they...
Quicker to abuse their minds.
And why so quick are they to whine?
And quick they are to say who's nuts...
But they're not crazy.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Self Healers
Wouldn't it be great,
If our lives were as delicious...
As that favorite frosted baked cake.
And we shared a taste with those we loved.
Careful not to waste a crumb of it.
Anywhere or at anytime.
But sooner or later realities are faced.
And many enjoy taking time away from others,
To detail each agony that takes place in their lives.
As if the only life experience to have...
Are the ones dramatized and exposed.
There are some folks who live to have those.
Some are accustomed to the attention.
While others are self healers.
And this is out of necessity!
Since they play the role of listener.
And that expectation comes with a demand,
To put their own feelings aside.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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