If It Pleases
If it pleases...
Anyone is invited,
To say and speak
That which is on their mind.
Tongues of these,
Have been declared to be
Censorship free.
And acceptable.
Those who think pose threats.
And they may or may not upset,
The ones who protect themselves...
In safety zones condoned.
And yet...
A comprehension is expected.
Requests to understand perspectives,
Are solicited and collected.
And those choices selected are made.
To leave decisions made pleased.
In a climate made easier for explanations.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Results Of Any Choices Made
I've never found it acceptable,
How grown people still use their childhoods...
To make continued excuses for themselves.
With the seeing of psychologists, psychiatrists...
And others designated to be certified,
To professionally analyze their minds.
With a trying to get them to realize and find,
That a being held accountable with a clarity...
For one's own decisions made,
Is no longer the responsibility of mommy and daddy.
However...
Mommy and daddy should have been arrested...
A long time ago,
For permitting such spoiled children...
Access to beliefs,
They were entitled to point blame on others.
With a dismissing of strict discipline,
To ensure those now thoughtless knew the difference.
Mommy and daddy could be 'sentenced' for not doing this.
BUT...
Regardless of what should have taken place?
The results of any choices made are clearly to be,
What they are as seen from what has been selected...
To represent the best of efforts allowed and condoned.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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With This Understood
I agree.
I don't understand what you've been through.
But 'who' made those decisions?
None of which you made,
With the asking of my opinion.
And since you've ignored every suggestion I've made,
Why would you expect me to understand anyway?
Your life has stopped being my priority,
The moment you declared to me,
I'd be better off minding my own business.
And I am sure you remember telling me that!
Which I might as well admit had been considered,
With this understood 'after' your recommendation...
I did not have to think twice to comprehend.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Orientation
Since a definite choice was made.
With a selected preference.
Now,
With introduction...
There comes,
An orientation?
With a hope,
Minds have been made up.
And the looking forward to lessons,
Eager to learn with a breeze to teach!
There is a point to this!
For many that would make sense.
However...
If a preference with a choice,
Has been selected consciously...
Why would someone then be conditioned,
To go through a process of orientation?
Hasn't that been decided?
Should there be a declaration made?
Somethings I just don't get.
Wouldn't it be great,
When upon establishing a relationship...
There was an understood 'orientation' period?
Something of a probation?
Like a 90 day trial?
*Congratulations.
You've passed.
Now you have full benefits.
With the both of us agreeing...
We will be happy with one another.*
And when someone should ask,
'What is your sexual orientation'?
Your response would be...
~Meet me at my home,
With a list of your choices...
With an elective.
And I will tell you immediately,
What your chances are.~
Skipping the need to through one's verbalized orientation,
And saving a whole lot of time invested...
Being undecisive!
But...
Getting a most cordial visit,
To view what can be expected...
On a campus to do what one pleases.
And hopefully graduates to something,
That will be a life filled with expereinces.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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With An Unabashed Bragging Done
You have a beautiful home,
Landscaped in a wonderful setting.
You have a family and prized possessions,
And investments you have made...
That have returned to you sweet dividends.
You drive a very nice car.
And your taste in fashion is exquisite.
You receive countless social invitations,
With an unabashed bragging done...
Whenever I visit.
And yet...
You express an insecurity about that,
Which implies an unhappiness.
I have none of your 'assets' to impress.
But...
I am thrilled.
And this seems to make you upset.
My path and direction taken,
Has had nothing to do with you.
Is there something about my own decisions made...
You believed I secretly,
Competed with you with something to prove?
And I have accomplished 'that' which I said I would do?
What is it?
'I was hoping you would fail.
In fact,
You have made me feel the fool.'
Well...
You did make that your choice.
And those choices you have made,
Surround you too.
We all make our choices.
Some are not so pronounced,
As those of others...
Who love to show and tell with a strut.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Making Those Choices To Do
Choices made are just the beginning,
For other choices to make.
Leaving an appetite to develop,
In a patience where choices sit to marinate
Procrastinating in hesitation,
Makes for the creating of excuses...
Easier to get nothing done to wait.
Like one who wishes for a taste of cake.
However, making those choices to do...
Does remove those excuses made done,
With no follow through.
And pursued as one's destination that comes.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Deeds I Seed and Sow
We all have made our decisions.
And began taking paces,
Towards our fates.
On selected paths.
With eyes we hoped were clear.
To afford our desires,
An unregrettable pass.
Undeterred and focused.
Many wished it easy for themselves.
And followed upon a certain,
Obstacle free smooth surface.
Less bumpy of sweat and grind.
To prove those who sought to be challenged...
Would find they've been left behind.
And the ones overwhelmed,
With a process thought ridiculous...
Chose to live lives of deception and tricks.
Hoping to lick,
A system that would award them with triumph!
Quick.
To impress with appearances dressed.
And finding an acceptance,
From those addressing polished images seen.
'Be patient with yourself.
Do not look down in depression.
Or to the side for anyone else.
If your abilities merit attention...
There will be little,
From your lips you will have to mention.
Your deeds will speak,
For themselves.
Within your mind keep this repeated,
'Deeds I seed and sow...
Will speak for themselves.'
'Deeds I seed and sow...
Will speak for themselves.'
'Deeds I seed and sow...
Will speak for themselves.'
Within your mind keep this repeated.
Do not allow defeat be seated!
'Deeds I seed and sow...
Will speak for themselves.'
We all have made our decisions.
And began taking paces,
Towards our fates.
On selected paths.
With eyes we hoped were clear.
To afford our desires,
An unregrettable pass.
Undeterred and focused.
Within your mind keep this repeated.
Do not allow defeat be seated!
'Deeds I seed and sow...
Will speak for themselves.'
'Deeds I seed and sow...
Will speak for themselves.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Be Young You
The tongues of some men are made of metal
The tongues of some men are made of oil
But the keeper of those men never rolled
Their tongues for anybodys free ride but his own
Now the oily tongues are thirsty for black gold.
But the old men are going to bed
Theyll be sleeping through the future
And the children red with fire
They got to move away the old mans rusty beds.
Now the tongue, the tongue of a master
That should be laughter - with dancing legs
Like a flying wheel for the weak and sad man
Some tongues of man are made of silence
And your eyes will listen.
song performed by by Jefferson Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Classic Are The Reactions
Classic are the reactions,
Of those given advice!
But have a need to attack,
Those they approached...
For advice that is solicited,
Not once but more than twice.
That advice was not taken,
By those now shakened.
And today they are on the scene...
Disliking the circumstances,
Those choices they themselves made...
That embarrasses them,
And publicly demeans.
With only themselves left to blame,
For not taking the advice...
To avoid their outlandish claims.
They now wish to inflict,
An emotional pain...
On those who unselfishly,
To their aid came.
With an escaping of responsibility...
And an accusatory slandering,
Of names to defame.
As they take to the streets,
To shame others in deceiving campaigns!
Hoping that such organized ignorance...
Will smother their insecurities,
With an attention that gains!
Like a child who cries, 'Victim'...
To their own applied lies.
'No empthy for me,
So they must bleed.
No empthy for me,
So they must bleed.
No empthy,
No empthy...
So they must bleed! '
~What is that all about? ~
Just some folks who made decisions,
And hated the outcome of their choices made.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Made Me A Man
As I work with the sweat upon my brow
As so to support my family my wife and child
I do for them, all that I can,
As GOD, he made me a man.
I Protect all which is mine and what I own
Which includes my possessions and also my home
At my wife’s side I will always stand
As GOD, he made me a man
I will never ever lie or cheat or steal
Never hurt anyone when instead I could heal
As I know what is in my greater plan
As GOD, he made me a man.
I will never ever start a war or even a fight
Whether I be wrong and they be right
I will talk with them, until we both understand
As GOD, he made me a man.
I will not break the vows I made to my wife
No matter the problems or even the rife
I know years from now in front of GOD I will stand
As GOD, he made me a man.
A soul and a life GOD he gave me
He showed me the roads and told me to be free
I gave up being a boy from worries I had not ran
As GOD, he made me a man.
As I say my prayers alone at night
I humble myself to the Lord and his might
I know that GOD, he made me a Man
But I am the one, who made me who I am.
poem by Randy McClave
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I understand everybody in this country doesn't agree with the decisions I've made. And I made some tough decisions. But people know where I stand.
quote by George W. Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life is maze
Life path is made of a net work;
One makes a choice at each fork.
Forks are frequent; so are choices.
Some are vital, some trivial.
Choices are made impulsively;
Choices are made instantly;
Choices are made by habit,
Experience, knowledge and faith.
Between pain and pleasure,
Between hedonism and virtues
And between power and possession,
Everyone’s life oscillates.
It is nothing but a sea saw.
Not every choice would click,
However best it appeared.
Your progress is not sure.
Life is maze not made by you.
The success and the failure
Are incidental and accidental.
No choice other than making choice.
13.12.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Isolated In Safety Zones
One enriched by events lived,
And evaluated with self examination.
Pleased to have adventured,
When discouragement tried to prevent it.
Is a happy noncomformist...
After reflecting on one's past.
With risks and challenges as daily tasks,
Now passed to gift with wisdom.
This is the peace of mind that comes,
After a chase has satisfied all concepts of ego.
Interpretations often described by those isolated,
In safety zones condoned in glad static.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Based Upon Appearances
Taught to shy away from those,
Amongst themselves most qualified...
Has left them in their dire straits.
And now they witness their qaulity of life,
Slipping from their hands.
On the edge from them of being erased.
To leave those voicing their demands,
With their choices made to be replaced.
And those who tried to reach them,
With an approach honest and not faked...
Are the ones now solicited,
For any opinions from them they 'wish' to make.
And those who had their recommendations,
Dismissed...
Have moved on to live their lives in peace,
Without the onslaught of conflicts.
And those now in the midst of them,
Were too excited to invite a clearing of consciousness.
Since decisions based upon appearances,
From them they could not and can not away from them shake.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Limited Visits With Comprehension
They would love to see others,
For what they are not.
To be those figments,
Of their imaginations.
It would be easier for them to exist,
If claims made were true.
But they know little,
Of that which they speak.
And 'this' what they do...
Reflects upon their limited visits,
With comprehension.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Should Be Consideration Given
One can choose to read.
Rate to leave,
Or not!
That does not obligate.
Or necessitate demands to make.
Requests are made and extended.
And even in the doing of such deeds,
There should be consideration given...
To those who have preferences.
And often...
One who expresses a preference,
Is compliant to what that definition implies...
Something that is preferred.
Not suggested.
Or sought in random.
And rarely not solicited,
If this is not an action wished!
And still...
STILL,
Many just don't get it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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God Made Your Lips
God made your lips for me to kiss. Your hands for me to hold.
God made your smile for me to miss and treasure more than gold.
God made your ears so I could tell how beautiful you are.
God made your eyes to cast a spell, no matter, near or far.
God made your arms to hold me tight each time before I leave.
God made your legs to stir delight like Adam saw in Eve.
God made your doubts to fade away, for years have come and gone.
God made your joys thank Him each day our love goes on and on.
God made your heart a lot like mine - hold fast to what God says.
God made you my sweet Valentine, you're always in my prayers.
God made your mind, your memories, your dreams and all you're worth.
God made you precious so you'd please the luckiest man on Earth!
God made your blessings one by one and when I look at you,
I wonder what great thing I've done that you should love me, too.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Efforts to Enlighten These Charity Cases
Life is made a lot easier,
If one is on a side of it that dictates...
A reality that nature brings.
And we spend some time,
In the comprehension of it.
And still there are those,
Who make daily attempts...
In the defense of their perceptions.
With a stubborn-ness to enforce them,
On what has been accepted as reality.
Life is made a lot easier,
If one is on a side of it that dictates...
A reality that nature brings.
And we spend some time,
In the comprehension of it.
But many have no connection to life,
On that level.
Many have not been blessed,
To be challenge or tested to fail.
Or to have the experience,
Of being alone with grief.
And healing from its affects.
But many have no connection to life!
Not on that level.
And those who do...
Seem to be required to have more patience.
As if sacrificing throughout one's life,
Is not enough of a donation made...
In the support already given,
With continuous strenuous efforts...
To enlighten these charity cases.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Did We Get Here?
Some people will go to the extreme,
To get an attention...
Even if the getting of it,
Demeans acceptable standards meant.
And degrades what is valued with intent.
To then dress in costume to heighten the event.
Never to know or grown into adulthood.
And those who eventually become selected to be victimized,
Are usually those who closed their eyes...
Believing themselves unaffected by this.
While innocently allowing the ones to select and pick them,
As dispensable objects to disregard and perform...
Actions to define,
As a sickness a normal mind would not permit.
Then out of the woodwork unsolicited opinions come.
From those intellectual to separate themselves from those,
Created from the same fabric.
'But...
How did we get here? '
~Charading and afraid,
To reveal a parading of masquerades.
With a cherising to protect pretentions made.
And finding it acceptable to mask what is inevitable!
'Seriously...
How did we get here? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Few Accept Invitations to Debate
The stinging of truth is going to hurt.
It will not popularize those who speak it,
With free tickets to be issued...
And a complimentary serving hand and foot done,
At DisneyWorld.
An avoidance of truth is more likely expected.
People wonder 'why' their misdeeds have adverse affects.
Why their direct show of disrespect...
And active participation in racistness reflects upon them!
Research groups are solicited...
To associate any connection of racism to their quality of life.
When someone blind can sense the signs,
Of approaching traffic without assistance.
Who conducts these surveys?
And from what funding source are they paid.
I'm curious...and my mind wants to know!
People don't understand this experience called life at all.
To initiate an ill affect...
Returns one!
That's how it works.
You slap me...
I will not break into song and tapdance.
I know to some this is a shocking revelation...
But I wont.
I use to.
Seldom is a cake made to bake and burn on its own.
Someone had to have turned on the oven.
Whipped up the ingredients.
And then decided to call it a cake.
Mistakes can be forgivable.
But don't claim none have been made.
Someone will suffer the consequences.
And usually its the one whose fingerprints,
Are left on the mixing bowl.
The stinging of truth is going to hurt.
It will not popularize those who speak it,
With free tickets to be issued...
And a complimentary serving hand and foot done,
At DisneyWorld.
An avoidance of it is more likely expected.
Denial will attack like an addicted mind refused crack.
A vicious vindictiveness can be expected for that.
And truth like Sunshine disturbs the vision of a bat.
Creating monsters that may reacte out of control.
This should not offend anyone whose eyes are open.
And ears have not been surgically plugged closed.
People have joked and laughed themselves,
Into a brick wall that falls on them.
And many are left wondering why,
Few accept invitations to debate.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Delivered By Letter
Would you understand this any better,
If you saw it poured from a labelled can.
To open slowly to reveal,
A preparation made easier...
That to you would appeal,
On demand as you command.
Would you understand this any better,
If work involved did not exist.
With no effort at all or commitment permitted.
And very little time put into it.
Allowing you to sit...
As your imagination drifted.
Would you understand this any better,
If blood, sweat and tears...
Were not heard from a voice admitted.
To then immediately decrease your interest.
Would you understand this any better,
If all explanations to you were delivered by letter.
And all you had to do was to connect large dots.
Would you then understand this any better...
To attempt to do or choose not.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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