I Suppose I Could Hoax
With a splattering of spoofs,
I suppose I could hoax...
If that was what I chose to do.
So many folks,
Seem caught up...
In the promotion of pretense.
And with a hollowed puffed up chest,
I would strut like a Rooster...
Or a Peacock doing that as my best.
But I enjoy a peacefulness...
Undisturbed by a prioritized nonsense.
Since I've chosen to be true,
With a detesting done by those who fool...
As a way to identify themselves with substance!
And substance is difficult to fake and present,
To those who know the difference between content and waste.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Opaque But Real
as opaque as a dream
the white shell of an egg
against the light
of the flickering oil lamp
a circle within a circle
substance within substance
content upon content
sure reality concealed
behind a mountain
where a thick fog still hangs
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What It Is They Do
Some folks enjoy doing things.
While other folks 'are' what they enjoy doing!
Some folks enjoy cooking.
And then there are cooks.
Some folks enjoy singing.
And then there are those who sing.
Some folks enjoy writing.
I know I do,
And I've been told I am a writer.
Some folks have no problem,
Producing what they do.
And others will say they don't have the time.
Although they waste it telling folks,
What it is they do...
And yet nothing of that,
Ever gets done!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Choose To Be A Rooster
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed from being locked up inside of a coop.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed.
I can strut it like a rooster,
To cluck as I please.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed from being locked up inside of a coop.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed.
I can strut it like a rooster,
To cluck as I please.
And before the dawn,
I can disturb your sleep.
And as the Sun arises,
You wont hear from me a peep.
Because,
I choose to be a rooster.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed.
I can strut it like a rooster,
To cluck as I please.
And before the dawn,
I can disturb your sleep.
And as the Sun arises,
You wont hear from me a peep.
Because,
I choose to be a rooster.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed from being locked up inside of a coop.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed.
I can strut it like a rooster,
To cluck as I please.
Because,
I choose to be a rooster.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Happy Easter
Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?
To strut and cluck for someone sleeping,
To get up.
And do that if programmed before the dawn shows up.
And if that rooster gets into a rut...
Who will then do the clucking?
Or wake up,
To collect the eggs!
Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?
To strut and cluck for someone sleeping,
To get up.
And do that if programmed before the dawn shows up.
And if that rooster gets into a rut...
Who will then do,
The clucking?
Or wake up,
To collect the eggs!
'Happy Easter'
~Do you notice anything different about those eggs? ~
'Yeah!
They are colored.
Why? '
~They are for the Easter Egg Hunt.
Put them back.~
'Oh!
I must be dreaming.
I thought I heard a rooster crow.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Just Haven't Discovered That Yet
'Mommie?
What is substance and quality?
We've been given an assigment,
To describe what it is in an essay.'
Substance is something one wishes to have,
When a missing of a quality has been overpriced.
'I see.
So...
In other words,
You're telling me...
You have no clue either.'
What did your father say about it?
'He said,
Substance is something sacrificed...
When the quality of it has been diminished,
To the getting of it only lasting for two minutes.'
Go tell your father,
He need not worry about the quality of the substance,
Any longer.
'Why is it,
When I ask you two a question...
The answers have nothing to do,
With my assignment.'
They do.
And they will.
You just haven't discovered that yet.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Empty As The Air
A life of substance, is always one that is desired.
But what of the substance you speak of?
How do you define it?
For ones man's junk is another man's treasure.
Substance is what we make of it.
Leading an interesting life in the gallows, could be considered a life of substance if that is what he desires.
Are you trying say he is saying pity me I have not lived an interesting life, one full of life changing, learning, and ever different experiences?
Do go on, as we investigate the brain.
Put it under some light.
What is really their?
Hmm, I can only wonder.
Maybe it is something empty as the air.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Curb Kickuh
You're a curb kickuh.
A no nonsense takuh.
And a mean love makuh.
U don't fake or take no bull.
And if it's not the way u want it...
You don't pull no punches.
You're a curb kickuh.
A no nonsense takuh.
And a mean love makuh.
You like to shake up stuff.
See that dust.
And direct how it should be cleaned up.
You prefer to stir a bit of lust with cussin'.
And when you've had enough...
U get tuff when it's time,
For folks to get up and leave.
You don't fool me.
You're a curb kickuh.
A no nonsense takuh.
And a mean love makuh.
U don't fake or take no bull.
And if it's not the way u want it...
You don't pull no punches.
I can be like that myself.
But at least with me...
U don't have to be so ruff!
Like u tuff or somethin'.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Evil has no substance of its own, but is only the defect, excess, perversion, or corruption of that which has substance.
quote by John Henry Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Papulation Control- A Cinquian Form
Rubber
substance with some substance
no thorough fare for liquids
clean slate makes some sense
eraser
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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Should This Make A Difference
Should it make a difference,
To the one accustomed to looking up...
As to who holds their head down?
To stop with a noticing of it...
Giving time to see what has been lost to be found?
Should it make a difference,
That people around talk 'to' each other...
With no eye contact that exists?
Should this make a difference,
To one who has already experienced this?
Should any of this make a difference,
To one who realizes their movements are not restricted...
On a top ten list of prioritized accomplishments,
Sought to do...
Since...
No one is aware of the persistence it takes,
To resist being disrespected with an accepted disregard.
Should this make a difference,
To one who has chosen to gaze at stars...
With dreams and wishes?
No.
The difference that is,
Has been decided and made.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You're Making My Purpose Very Difficult
Content and substance
Intended to deliver
A meaning driven by a purpose
With a hopeful comprehension
That explores misunderstanding
'Huh?
I'm exploring my intent to mug you
You are the 'muggee'
And I
I am the 'mugger'
You're making my purpose very difficult
Do you OR do you not intend
To hand over to me your wallet? '
Are your serious?
Do you realize I am on a fixed income?
And you are here
Brandishing a gun?
Talking some nonsense?
Hand you my wallet?
I don't carry a wallet!
And furthermore
HEY! ?
You come back here
I'm not finished!
Hey?
Did you hear me?
Damn kids
Walking around making demands!
Pants hanging off his butt
Running away like he's carrying a diaper load.
AND
He expects to get something from me?
And he couldn't stay to understand a word I said?
When I was that age,
At least I was polite!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Is There A Difference?
Is there a difference between yes and no
Is there a difference between up and down
Must I fear what others fear
What nonsense
Some people are content
Enjoying things that belong to tradition
With the seasons they cast their lot
Without a question
Other men are clear and bright and solid
Other men are sharp and clever and jolly
And we go wo oh oh wo oh oh oh wo
Is there a difference between high and low
Is there a difference between then and now
Do we have to live in pain and fear
What nonsense
People are drifting like the waves on the sea
Without direction like the restless wind
Not knowing forward not knowing back
Just existing
Other men are strong and full of courage
Other men are witty and full of knowledge
And we go wo oh oh wo oh oh wo
Other men are clear and bright and solid
I alone am drifting on the sea
Other men are sharp and clever and jolly
Restless like the wind
And we go wo oh oh wo oh oh wo
Is there a difference
Is there really a difference
Yes and no
Is there a difference
Up and down
Is there a difference
High and low
Is there a difference
Then and now
Is there a difference
Yes and no
Is there a difference
Up and down
Is there a difference
song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Comma That Makes The Big Difference
the children who walk and pass along the road
where your house is facing are always noisy
you pay attention to what they are talking about
you call it nonsense and it angers your quest for deep understanding
you are quite sad and very unhappy
in your chosen niche of silent isolation
they are carefree and unconcerned about you
happy about their nonsense & selfishness
there is a big difference between you and them
that i think, you must explore some more
it is the comma that makes the big difference
in the sentence that you have duly imposed upon your self.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Splicing Together Star Performances
managers producers
editors splicing waste scenes
Marilyn Monroe takes
so many takes
illnesses personal problems
so difficult stars
on screen illusions
sleep disturbances
substance abuses
poem by Terence George Craddock
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You Just Want Me to Preach
Our 'children' are killing each other.
Society and the 'church' has allowed this.
Not spirituality with a consciousness.
Who buys into conflicts to have that condone?
And talk about the 'Devil'?
When only devilment is known.
As if a practice to be shown.
And people talk about themselves,
In despicable tones.
Even sitting next to one another...
To 'worship' and be entertained,
Under stadium domes.
And those who profess they know God...
Say so.
And that is overblown.
If folks can not see this,
They are blind to everything else.
They are caught up in image,
And not substance.
And blatant decadence is the evidence.
They are into pretense and nonsense!
And most definitely into themselves.
Sharing grief is their reality.
Ignoring their own soldiers they put to war,
Is their 'thing'.
Having 'bling' is their commander!
And anyone who claims to pray for peace,
And receives none...
They are going through the motions,
Of looking to impress.
And 'that' should be addressed.
To lift them out of their own created mess.
Instead of trying to correct,
An accepted physicality of things.
And a host of inanimated objects to posses.
With a sadness delivered.
And the madness that it brings!
Please!
You just want me to preach.
And I ain't in the mood to do it.
I just offer my opinions unsolicited.
I don't have to be ordained,
To say the same thing from a pulpit!
To convince what God wants.
And observe those in denial,
Objecting to a reality in disbelief.
As if to ignore it will bring them relief.
Please!
You just want me to preach.
And I ain't in the mood to do it.
Especially when an unconscious mindset,
Has been drugged to be numbed...
Deluded and succumbed.
And totally out of reach.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Very Difficult to Achieve
Some folks achieve notoriety,
Based upon the quantity of their work.
Not as a result of the quality...
That can be observed.
However,
With a touch of therefore.
It is very difficult to achieve,
A sustained quality!
Well...
For some!
But after a while it really doesn't matter.
Folks will diminish one's ability,
To sustain a quality with quanity.
It happens.
Since the familiarity of it being delivered,
Becomes taken for granted.
Try maintaining substance over time.
It can be done.
But not recommended.
Folks don't associate work with it!
And sooner or later...
Whatever it is becomes disrespected.
For the uniqueness of its delivery.
And deduced as something that was done too easy.
And sleazing it becomes even easier.
Especially by those who rise in the morning...
Prepared to critique,
As part of what it is done they do...
To participate in this experience called life.
We all have a need to fulfill something we regard,
As valued by somebody, somewhere.
And so we do it.
Most times without thought at all.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Preserve substance; modify form; know the difference.
Sometimes It Is Not The Poem But The Poet
how i want to be a pseudonym of a pseudo-poet
all: pseudohematuria
pseudoxoma, this sham shame this
counterfeit eshete, this fake classic
this pretense
inside this desception, false sun shining
on the sand, 'nom de Usenet
best-known and funniest hoax
this BIFF BIFF BIFF
Many flamers/ entities,
that AI program of sophistication
yet to exist
and the exits
travesty generator to simulate
oh! ass!
a significant number of people
like us
fooled by the forgeries
they debate over their authenticity
eventually
settled only when the perpetrator came forward
publicly admitting the hoax.
acidic Ph, test it.
taste it, let us see how your tongue works
to know the truth
i shall now reveal
you have loved the poet
but his poems you despise
.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Assessments to Seduce
Address this any way you wish.
But during my grief periods...
God was with me.
And both of us sat in sorrow alone.
Your judgements passed on me does not matter.
Nor your assessments to seduce your reality.
Address this any way you wish.
But during my grief periods...
God was with me.
And both of us sat in sorrow alone.
I chose to heal.
I chose to sing.
I chose to dance and do those things.
Your judgements passed on me does not matter.
Nor your assessments to seduce your reality.
I chose to stand.
I chose to walk.
I chose the Sun!
Not the miseries others wished upon me to bring.
Hoping from obstacles faced,
I would run.
Address this any way you wish.
But during my grief periods...
God was with me.
And both of us sat in sorrow alone.
I chose to heal.
I chose to sing.
I chose to dance and do those things.
And whatever it is prioritized on your agenda?
I wish you all the best!
But don't count on me,
To give it attention with signs of protest.
I have chosen to ignore people like you.
Knowing that a focus on my own happiness...
Is what God wishes!
And that gift God has given...
Has proven to me I am blessed!
Address this any way you wish.
Your judgements passed on me does not matter.
Nor your assessments to seduce your reality.
I have chosen,
The freedom to be me.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Style vs Substance
As a TV show...
The first episode,
Will always overflow with style.
A longevity is promised.
And to heighten intensity,
Hype will always succeed.
But as far as substance goes...
Those who oppose style,
Have already been sold...
On a substance shown.
Since one excellent performance,
Does not guarantee a supportive audience.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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