Hoping to Regulate a Way of Life
Referendums on values and ethics,
Expressed from minds of those times not existing.
And glamorized as if they've lived...
To legislate those enactments,
Of deeds to follow with a lawful intent.
In movements preconditioned,
To make common sense a practical depiction.
But of what?
Pretensions masqueraded to impress in debate.
To prove to the masses a good use of paper weights.
Hoping to regulate a way of life much out of touch.
With a purpose to keep stagnated,
Within limitations crumbling from rust.
And ineffective as witnessed by those who distrust,
Documented incompetence...
Enforced to experience,
An out of control marketing of decadence assisted!
And delicious as topics to discuss as wished!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Recreational Degradations
The comfort and ease of celebration,
That comes to comfort myths...
And a way of life,
Fragmented in its appeal.
Dances with an erasing purpose.
Standards are showing a fading quality.
And equality documented,
Seems less of an intention than what is meant.
Structured foundations and their sentiments,
Have lost pride.
Only gestures remain,
To market an effectiveness.
Recreational degradations...
Has a conformity parading malfunctions.
Dysfunctions are the normalcy.
And a common sense,
Has desolved in pretensions.
And yet those few with integrity,
Are losing a battle with disrespect.
Like an endangered sanity...
Once valued,
But few are witnessed to have that left!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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From the Hollow Minds of Demented Men
Now the big boys with the bucks,
Argue who is right and wrong.
While the oil from the ocean,
Gushes up from a hole.
The oil made them spoiled.
And their souls have been sold.
And people witness the environment,
Being destroyed because of their greed...
And indefinite ignorance.
Everything that lives will suffer,
The experience inflicted by this tolerance.
Allowed and followed...
To benefit more decadence.
That now becomes everyone's to swallow...
From the hollow minds of demented men.
Who can no longer mask their wicked tasks,
Or their incompetence lacking common sense.
That has never been aligned with mental substance at all.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bridging A Gap
It is not those who are 'liberal'
Marketing decadence.
It is those who are in control of the media...
Who preach greed and a need,
To fear 'socialism'!
Hoping those unconscious...
Wish to end their own progress,
In heated debates that lack common sense.
Eliminating a feeding of gluttony,
That those rich feast upon in an exclusiveness.
To deny those in poverty,
With diminishing opportunities.
The rich know then,
They will not in deceit be able to get!
And a bridging of a gap between the 'haves' and 'have nots'!
Will spoil reasons there are arguments between...
Those 'liberal' minded,
And those who are conservative snots!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When and Where Did They Leave Behind Their Minds
I have been blessed to be in the presence...
Of those obsessed with the purchasing of things.
Themselves and what they possess.
And have them profess to me,
What 'I' could be and 'things' I could have...
IF I just put my mind to it!
So glad I endured such ignorance.
Little did they know,
I thought people like that were ridiculous.
And in time they would come to think of themselves,
That very same way.
It happens.
It pays to be observant.
What I have today and have had most of my life,
Is a sense of my own self worth.
What I have today and have had most of my life,
Is identity and self respect.
What I have today and have had most of my life,
Is my faith and gratefulness...
To know from where my blessings flow!
And the source of my insight.
And those folks...
Wouldn't leave from their doorsteps,
Without making sure their pretensions were intact.
But then again...
Times have changed!
And maybe some of them are scurrying around,
Trying to discover...
When and where did they leave behind their minds.
And what had been their purpose?
What purpose do they serve?
And how is that purpose felt?
Where is that purpose at?
Especially those clinging onto materialistic notions!
Believing themselves to be...
'Blessed and highly favored',
To have acquired positions of status.
With bling and other things to flaunt,
An eroding way of life that has them entrapped.
And I wonder...
Is 'this' a purpose?
Or is this,
A sad act!
God...
I thank You,
For showing me how to lead.
And not follow.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Those Inclined To Be Most Radical
Is it possible for anyone to escape,
The onslaught of a marketing of decadence?
Is it possible to ignore,
The mental illnesses...
Of someone who just may live next door?
Intellectuals sitting back,
With theories and graphs...
To compare demographics,
Of those who might be lacking...
In social skills and tasks,
Have no answers when asked...
Why such acts are rising fast...
In their own backyards.
Is it possible for anyone to escape,
The onslaught of a marketing of decadence?
Is it possible to ignore,
The mental illnesses...
Of someone who just may live next door?
And those who pass their judgements,
On those who have less...
Are themselves most emotionally affected.
And yet...
They are the ones,
With their research completed and studies done...
Trying to convince their outlooks on life are practical.
But observation of these disturbing events...
Proves to anyone witnessing,
Who are the ones with common sense...
And who are those inclined to be most radical.
With a rampaging done they do to be excused.
'But isn't what you do a passing of judgement? '
If you and I sat here observing this with silent lips,
Would what is viewed still exist?
Or will our ignoring it...
Assist it in becoming less effective and fade away?
And 'if' it stays and increases...
Will I then be passing judgement?
Or be thought of as less patriotic?
Because it then becomes a condition of society.
You know me!
I only see what it is.
Not what it aint.
With a censoring done by those pretentious.
To claim 'negative' observations,
Are made by those embittered and disgruntled.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Am I 'That'?
Am I 'that'?
That which has expressed my purpose?
Flaunted and yet,
Kept introspective.
Although touching with a respectfulness,
Impressing with an aggressiveness.
That is brought to birth,
Without pretensions to suspect.
For mindsets to collect and digest!
Am I 'that'?
That which has expressed my purpose?
Flaunted and yet,
Kept introspective.
But,
Exposed to those who choose to inspect.
From a diversed and eclectic selection.
To enjoy just a nibble...
Or disregard an effort released at my best!
I can not make every taste,
Unforgettable!
That I have yet to try!
Should I continue to let you decide,
I 'am' that!
Am I?
For you to say an arrival has been made?
Am I 'That'?
I've just begun another batch,
If you wish more!
I can not expect all my flavors to be savored.
Some are whipped to be delicious.
While a few may sit.
To do nothing with until I give them the attention,
They wish to get.
Perhaps they become the ones,
To attract when I'm done.
For you to say an arrival has been made?
Am I 'That'?
I can start another batch,
If you wish more!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fantasies Enriched
With fantasies enriched,
And lives protected...
By the foolishness of censorship.
One aided by religious beliefs,
That restrict the expansion...
Of one's mental consciousness.
People do seem they are getting,
Very tired of this.
Although misjudgements,
Expect an effective controlling.
Enforced and condoned through imagery,
And symbolic teachings.
Although a Taste for decadence,
Provides a good foundation...
For hypocrisies to exist.
With a contradicting of values and standards.
There is a need to keep these pretensions,
On the top of the list.
However...
Truth IS and not a myth.
And those with fantasies enriched,
Are on the road that will expose...
A discovery of this comes without a welcome.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Inappropriately Touched
Insisting the children of today,
Have innocent minds that should be protected.
Is likened to insisting,
Pride in oneself and family values...
Have not become dysfunctions.
When a marketing of decadence...
Is overwhelmingly done for sport and profit.
There are few children today,
Unaware of how their minds...
Have been inappropriately touched.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Depicted As A Racist
I've been depicted as a racist.
AND...
After finding that humorous,
I had to give this serious thought.
Do I have the power,
To create hunger and homelessness?
Have I ever been given the power,
To decide whom to fire or hire?
When was the last time I outsourced a job?
Or downsized anyone?
To prevent a salary earned.
How many companies did I move overseas,
For the purpose to feed my own greed?
Who implemented divisions of hatred...
To kill and maim those they despise?
I find that checklist is not on my side.
Have I been like that?
And from whose eyes?
I can dislike what I see.
And from observation...
Describe it appropriately.
But to participate in scenes with values like that?
Has never been a part of my ancestry!
that's a fact.
And 'if' these truths mention offend...
Perhaps the time has come to openly discuss them.
But I do not believe insecurities,
Will be faced to allow those who have them hidden...
To free themselves in open discussion.
Some 'try',
But accountability is difficult to transfer.
And my patience...
Wears thin from those who eagerly toss their accusations.
These days come to peel away deceptions to reveal truths.
And chaos, conflicts and a diminished quality of life...
With the successful marketing of decadence,
Are realities I have had no power to promote.
However...
I have witnessed the suffering done,
By those who have become victimized by the implementation.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Our Senses Touch
There our senses touch.
In the fields of...
Fresh grass scented.
To glisten with dew,
Lifted,
By a dawning morning...
Clear.
Bright.
And appetizing awakening eyes.
There our senses touch.
With an open window nearby.
Where the 'is' and 'why' of life,
Breezes through fields God gives...
To make the experience of it,
Flagrant with inconsistent fragrance shifting.
From day to day.
As if to outdo each creation made.
There our senses touch.
In the fields of...
All there is to life.
And to know it can not be simply lived,
If not witnessed.
There our senses touch.
Outside of ourselves.
With none of it to be lived,
To sit on fences.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sedated
It's time to dropp hopscotched ideals.
Limited in isolation...
Within the minds,
Of those locked in and boxed.
Guilt rides them with fear.
No sleep comes near them at night.
A contained anger,
Keeps them in beliefs...
Their way of life is right.
Although a solicited greed,
Has pushed them to the brink.
Fading values and standards,
Are spoken of as treasures...
With such a seriousness,
Their fixed eyes do not blink.
Their very existence relies,
On the marketing of decadence.
And once great foundations...
Are decaying more rapidly than common sense.
Guilt rides them with fear.
No sleep comes near them at night.
A contained anger,
Keeps them in beliefs...
Their way of life is right.
It's time to dropp hopscotched ideals.
Limited in isolation...
Within the minds,
Of those locked in and boxed.
Although a solicited greed,
Has pushed them to the brink.
Fading values and standards,
Are spoken of as treasures...
With such a seriousness,
Their fixed eyes do not blink.
As if they have been...
Sedated!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Delusions Of Grandeur
You don't care about nothing
So you don't care about love
If you want me to come back
You'd better change
You'd better give up talking about money
Begin thinking of love
If you want me to come back
You'd better change
You'd better change for the better
It cost more than dollars and cents
Take it from me there's - got to be
An end to this decadence
This decadence
You don't care about people
So you don't care about pain
If you want me to come back
You'd better change
You'd better change for the better
Start using some common sense
Take it from me there's - got to be
An end to this decadence
For decadence - is fatal
It's the beginning of the end
In self-defense
I cannot recommend
This decadence
You don't care about real life
You're too distant and strange
If you want me to come back
You'd better change for the better
It may be rather intense
Stop this caprice, you've got to cease
This fin-de-siecle pretence
For decadence - is fatal
It's the beginning of the end
In consequence
I cannot recommend
This decadence
This decadence
This decadence
This decadence
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slow To Self Detect
They are doing their best to see him defeated.
He does not represent,
Their interests with intention seen that's meant.
Nor has he given them any attention sent.
And with the lack of his wisdom,
As their guide...
They will witness their own demise,
To no one's surprise.
Those who can separate the ignorant from the wise.
Since in their eyes they find themselves,
Uncontested and bitterly incensed.
Although their madness has been slow to self detect.
A consciousness absent...
Of a common sense witnessed that is in effect.
With an incompetence effective as incompetence can get,
And stirred by a rowdy madcowed crowd.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In His Eyes! And Ours
Times then were lived,
Within our means.
We valued being clean.
Respected as expected.
This is what everyone did without neglect.
And embraced hygiene!
This was a fact of life known and seen!
Sold on concepts of a desire to learn.
Wanting to comprehend lessons taught...
That broadened our lives with a competitiveness.
With a fear of limits ignorance welcomed.
And we then wished no part of this.
We sought to grow.
And this assisted with an identity dignity presented.
Times then were lived within our means.
To deceive...
Was then thought to be despicable.
To cheat and lie about it,
Did not excite or sit well...
With those who suffered through the consequences,
Of their ways that dismayed.
Today...
People talk the 'walk' but do not walk the talk.
People say they have good intentions.
But leave no evidence of it seen.
Today...
People talk about their standards and values.
As if this is held in an exclusiveness.
And a membership is required for this to be addressed.
Today...
People are obsessed with their possessions.
Their good credit scores and loans they can obtain.
Because they have maintained status given,
Although they keep blemishes hidden...
That may reveal their tainted names.
And they cheat.
Lie.
And deceive!
With lifestyles lived well above their means.
And yet,
When suspected...
Nothing about them is respected.
Nor do the judgements they pass on others...
Keep tax collectors from locking them out,
From foreclosed homes they bragged about.
OR...
Do they 'today' have the means to feed, protect
Or shelter themselves,
In peace.
Times we lived then,
Were lived within our means.
And we were taught to be grateful.
To feel we were blessed.
And we should express this to God.
On a daily basis kept routined!
Like promises we made to ensure we had good hygiene.
And then God...
And only God,
Will make sure our lives lived were lived right!
In His eyes!
And ours.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dependence On Negativity
Your demons have you convinced,
The life you live without me...
Would be better spent,
Not listening!
And the benefit from this,
Affords you to live...
A life lived without comprehension.
One acheived without common sense!
Follow I do your movements from the sidelines.
Hoping one day you will awaken to find...
Wasting time trying to redefine,
How to accept me in your mind...
Has limited you to doubt and misunderstanding.
Deception based upon your perception,
I have plans to manipulate your independence...
Is that continuous inner dialogue you keep,
With your belief a dependency on negativity relieves!
It is you not me living day to day in desperation.
However...
It is your happiness that has been blocked,
And confined.
Not mine!
That is the only freedom I know...
I have here to share with fresh air to breathe.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Effective Etiquette
Representing a decadence this is...
Represents its existence,
As it is and this is clear.
To uphold values and standards,
Many rush to come to defend...
Is hypocritical in presentation.
When a marketing of decadence,
Does not offend.
Until...
One elected,
To sit in a prestigious position...
Lies and denies a taste for lust.
With an innocence trusted,
Adored by those upper crust.
But...
That trust becomes busted.
And pretentiousness kept,
Becomes betrayed.
And those who know...
Their values and standards,
Meet an acquired effective etiquette...
Are seen to be embarrassed,
By a smearing done to their politcal correctness!
Oh...
What a feeble web they live to weave.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We Need Death With Dignity
We need death with dignity regardless of our Supreme Court,
Isolated Santa Clauses tucked away in an Ottawa fort,
They allowed unborn babies to be aborted by the score,
But for Canadian adults death with dignity, they just shut the door.
If unborn babies can be killed without question; why not us?
Binding referendums could get assisted suicide without fuss,
That’s why they wont touch referendums with a ten-foot pole,
Democracy and Supreme Court agenda hidden with no control.
We are forbidden death with dignity under some pretence,
Isolated politicians and Santa Clauses make no sense,
They seem to think that miserable death will never come their way,
Like appointed Canadian Senators they may stay and stay.
poem by James Bredin
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Out of Their Comfort Zones They Are Thrown
People are too accepting,
Of their learned and enforced perceptions.
Envisoned with fixed images in their minds.
Like men aren't expected to cook or do chores.
Or women who look feminine,
Shock others who see them box in rings.
Or play basketball with hook shots,
To achieve high scores.
Men who sing and write,
Are expected to be limp of wrist.
While those who appear to be 'supermen'
Stop traffic when seen,
Holding hands to then kiss.
And women who wear lipstick,
Are often approached by men...
For sex and overnight 'flings'.
When they announce they are lesbians...
'Homophobics' do not begin,
To rejoice and sing.
People are too accepting,
Of their learned and enforced perceptions.
When out of their comfort zones they are thrown...
Those who are not like them,
Are condemned to be sinners!
As if a wholesomeness can not be lived...
Unless pretensions are embellished,
And mentioned to impress...
Over again and again.
With a 'normalcy' perceived...
That does not threaten what is believed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Those Kinds Of Branding To Label Traps
Do I have a 'Doctorate's Degree? '
No!
Nor is my approach and methods to learning,
Certifiably accepted by those approved...
Who do have such credentials.
But I am blessed to observe,
And connect with a consciousness...
I did not earn to be professed.
Or be one labelled as a scholar,
To prove a thought process within me that yearns.
And not a book do I read that has helped me achieve,
A common sense.
With experience and a willingness to learn,
Has assisted in the documenting...
What may be perceived as an approved 'Ivy Leaguer'.
I could not afford,
To waste my resources...
On those kinds of branding to label traps.
I've been saved from living my life,
Limited to impress others like that.
And nothing I believe in,
Has been certified to be classified...
With stamps of approval to identify as controlled.
To maintain standards beheld to uphold to teach...
A releasing of comprehension that limits one's attention span.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Brokenness
They still wish to find,
A soft exit for their flaws.
With someone or somewhere...
They wish to lay the blame.
As to why they've left their foundations,
In shambles and shame.
Somehow excuses have to be found!
To explain the mess,
They have left all around!
They still wish to define,
Their deeds as just!
With a quality of life squeezed and dried.
From an economy ruined,
And busted from rust.
That have left themselves the ones criticized.
But they try to explain away,
Their absence of knowledge.
Hoping the existence of it...
Slowly drifts and fades.
With no one feeling betrayed!
Even with the credentials of those...
Who profess to have experience.
With some of them with law degrees.
And many who claim to be scholars...
Who teach their skills in college!
But none can use simplistic common sense...
To prevent a brokenness they have created.
Although 'hate' is what they seem to do best!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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