Images Embedded In Heads Once Fed
The introduction of a feasting on greed,
Will never see a reduction of it mentally.
The feeding of the taste buds HAS been teased.
A scrambling for nuggets of what 'was'
Has too many on their knees,
Pleading for a return to satisfy their yearnings.
And regardless if the cupboards are bare,
Fantasies to replenish them
Even from the pounding on rocks,
From foundations crumbling,
Disturbed by the constant knocking of shocks
Will not stop a determined stubbornness,
That impairs a widening of fixed and restricted visions.
The seeking done of another way,
To restore what no longer exists
Has from minds been dismissed.
Since there are those who can not let go,
Of images embedded in heads once fed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Expected To Deliver
The creating of feeding greed,
Has slowly become the focus...
Of everyone's priority.
And those who have been teased,
With the getting of entitlements...
Are addicted to the taste of it.
And those they select to then elect,
to represent their interests...
Are expected to deliver.
Regardless if the feasting,
Has little to nothing left.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Keys To Locks
Those conditioned to perceive themselves,
With undeniable rights...
To receive even when cupboards are bare.
Are those who will never be convinced,
An accustomed abundance...
Has exhausted what has always been believed,
Would be theirs.
A taking and not sharing had been a way of life.
A selfishness fed...
Comforted them in their beds at night.
And disregarding warnings,
Times come that will not be as bright...
For them is not accepted.
Preparing for these days,
They prefer to reject!
Those conditioned to perceive themselves,
With undeniable rights...
To receive even when cupboards are bare.
Are those who will never be convinced,
An accustomed abundance...
Has exhausted what has always been believed,
Would be theirs.
Even indebted to others they owe...
Can not be digested,
In minds isolated with only a selfishness known.
Even those with traditions fixed upon a worship of greed...
Refuse to accept,
Their wishes, wants, desires and needs...
Must be removed from their customes.
Since no longer there...
Are the tricks and treats that once easily pleased.
Even indebted to others they owe...
Can not be digested,
In minds isolated with only a selfishness known.
And...
Those conditioned to perceive themselves,
With undeniable rights...
To receive even when cupboards are bare.
Demand them to be restocked...
From those they owe who have keys to locks.
Those who now...
Command the blocking that stops!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Diced, Minced and Splintered
Diced, minced and splintered!
Lives sliced and divided into morsels.
Some endure a splicing...
To increase an appetitizing for survival.
On bitter crumbs sweetened.
And teased to reach for more...
Are those reminded,
They must escape those visions...
Of being amongst the poor!
'Nickeled-and-dimed'
And entwined with needs...
To embellish relished fantasies!
Images received,
From their recently purchased...
And/or leased widescreen TVs.
Feeding how they would greatly advantage,
By having more 'things' in their diminished lives.
To delude a lack of insight,
With an acquired taste for accelerated rampage!
Devoured in greed...
Throughout the day.
And craved in sleepless nights...
With minds engraved.
Mingling with those mentally damaged.
Duped and taxed in seduced acceptance.
Raving about struggles and bargain sales obtained.
So engrossed are they in portrayals of servitude!
They can not perceive themselves betrayed,
In a morality mugged...
And subconsiously maimed,
To stay that way.
An Insanity preferred,
Has been fed and served!
Diced, minced and splintered.
In an upgraded auction.
On carpeted slave blocks...
A 'steal' all must have.
In a form of modern degraded trade!
Assembled to produce a happiness.
With an infectious sickness,
That brings a grieving that leaves them...
Addicted and quite sad!
But these are lives lived.
They believe others wished they had!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Forgotten And Dismissed
Crediting debts has produced regrets.
And demands to keep delusions untouched...
To enhance the need of a feasting to feed,
The many addicted to an unending of it...
Ceases,
The quickness for some to obtain...
By just the signing of one's name.
Without any collateral to claim or barter.
What is broken can only be fixed,
When addictions are admitted.
And fantasies are cured,
As realities are gained.
With a detoxing from this starting...
The painful return,
To a forgotten and dismissed consciousness...
Aided by the use and ease of plastic wishes.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Disgust With Rust Ignored
Removing tarnish from symbolic images,
Takes an effort motivated by discipline.
And beliefs a quality within them exists.
To demand this be done,
Without benefit to everyone.
Heightens disgust with rust ignored.
And invites a crushing done...
By those who no longer adore,
Being treated as if...
Their efforts can be dismissed.
And the gleam on symbolic images...
Can show they have a glow all their own.
When the proof of that has not been shown,
To those who once had pride...
Believing their ambitions and lives,
Had meaning more than the gleaming of things!
And those valued 'things'
Come crumbling down to the ground.
With no one around expressing concern.
Except those left with unimpressive pretensions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nursing On a Rhyme
On the other side of greed,
Where the numb lay lifeless...
And stung in their slumber.
Some choose to sneak a peek,
At misdeeds done.
While others pretend,
They see no one...
Feeding like vultures!
Who love the taste of wasted minds,
Attached to stubborn behinds!
On the other side of greed,
Many seem to be awakening,
From deep sleep seeking...
After verifying,
They have been drugged like sheep.
Stripped bone clean...
Of everything they believed was theirs to keep.
As harmonic chimes heard,
In the background ring...
With sweetened sounds of a lullaby.
Nursing on a rhyme that begins to sting...
An accepting slaughter that finally brings,
Folks provoked to bolt in revolution!
Crumbling centuries of myths,
And symbolic illusions!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Demons In Their Pockets
Just to 'if' it up and wish it be known,
What it is desired that would satisfy one's taste!
Would be great.
With delusions there included.
And just to 'if' it up and wish it be known...
Not too many people would be underneath their griefs.
Just to 'if' it up and wish it be known...
This would be great.
To satisfy one's taste.
Knocking thick heads against brick walls!
Who hasn't done this as if this had been a wish,
To bang their heads as if this banging to them was a gift.
And who is seen flaunting their miseries?
With a stopping to announce,
They've got demons in their pockets.
Just to 'if' it up and wish it be known,
What it is desired that would satisfy one's taste!
Would be great!
With delusions there included.
Knocking thick heads against brick walls!
Who hasn't done this as if this had been a wish.
To bang their heads as if this banging to them was a gift.
And who is seen flaunting their miseries?
With a stopping to announce,
They've got demons in their pockets.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Credited Gluttony
Well,
The popularity of tea parties,
Seem to be dipping a little bit.
The reality of what needs to be fixed,
Has more to do with sacrifice.
And sipping on this...
More are admitting,
They had been in denial...
With delusional visions,
They had wish to keep revisited.
But the one who sees what is needed ahead,
Has made attempts to feed responsibility...
To everyone instead.
And since true leadership few had been exposed,
Many believed delusions fed...
Would never cause them to overdose.
Well,
The popularity of tea parties,
Seem to be dipping a little bit.
The reality of what needs to be fixed,
Has more to do with sacrifice.
And sipping on this...
More are admitting,
They had been in denial...
With delusional visions,
They had wish to keep revisited.
And this...
Will no longer appease,
Those caring less about fulfilling fantasies.
The piper plucked,
Now wishes to be paid.
Not in promises...
But in 'bucks'!
To close a widening gap...
That credited gluttony has yet to slow up!
Especially from those,
With opened mouths and swelling guts.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Egos Addicted
Images are needed,
By a society fantasized...
With hyped perceptions.
At the expense of an enforced,
Dwindling greed.
How can egos addicted,
Keep from bleeding?
How can selfishness worshipped...
Be curbed?
Stopped!
And no longer serving,
Those disturbed in denial fits!
Images are needed,
By a society fantasized...
With hyped perceptions.
At the expense of an enforced,
Dwindling greed.
And those elected to protect their 'treats',
Find they've become accountable...
To ease a reality upon these minds.
Teasing them with beliefs of victory!
When deceit and defeat...
Has surrounded them for sometime!
How can selfishness worshipped...
Be curbed?
Stopped!
And no longer serving,
Those disturbed in denial fits!
How can egos addicted,
Keep from bleeding?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Elected To Fix An Economic Crisis
What minds are behind,
The spending of billions of dollars...
For two people to hollar promises,
GUARANTEED to 'all'...
If elected to fix an economic crisis.
What nonsense advertised,
Is going to change the quality of lives...
Overnight?
Or increase a depleted reality that exists?
When what has been wasted,
Could eliminate the deficit with a quicker pace.
What idealistic dreams are kept,
That will deliver a feasting of greed...
For those already suffering from hunger,
AND homelessness?
With other needs dismissed that go unheeded.
And what deluded fantasies are left,
That have not yet been swept...
Away to fill the bulging pockets everyday,
Of those thieves teasing...
With their smiles and high profile deceptions.
Which elitist who represents...
Those supporting to have their special interests,
Protected regardless of who is elected...
Is going to have influence enough to convince,
Life as we know it needs an injection of sincerity meant...
Before a peace that could be easily reached dies upon the streets.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Been and Are Disturbed
Let's make a pact...
To announce our delusions
As reality,
And never look back!
At least we can keep in our minds,
Visions that will never have to deal with truth!
Or the fact that we have been...
And are,
Mentally affected and obviously disturbed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Waiting For A Taste Of Humanity
People everywhere are starving.
And waiting for a taste of humanity.
Waiting for the feeding of greed to subside,
To embrace the benefit that comes from sharing.
Feasting on blood is not the solution.
Since the cannibalism of it,
Eventually will leave no humans to exist.
And when has genocide proven to be a quick fix...
To leave anyone eternally 'high'.
People everywhere are starving.
And waiting for a taste of humanity.
Waiting for the feeding of greed to subside,
To embrace the benefit that comes from sharing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dwindling Supplies
If no one else has made attempts,
To what was perceived was there
And did not replenish it.
No one person alone can restore
That which is gone.
And isn't there anymore.
If it was not prioritized,
With an inventory taken of dwindling supplies
No one should be surprise,
The diminishing of it
Has vanished from all eyes.
No one can have what is not given right back.
That is not the way,
A feeding comes to stay.
No one can have what is not given right back.
That is not the way,
A feeding comes to stay.
If it was not prioritized,
With an inventory taken of dwindling supplies
No one should be surprise,
The diminishing of it
Has vanished from all eyes.
That is not the way,
A feeding comes to stay.
If no one else has made attempts,
To what was perceived was there
And did not replenish it.
No one person alone can restore
That which is gone.
And isn't there anymore.
No one can have what is not given right back.
That is not the way,
A feeding comes to stay.
No one can have what is not given right back.
That is not the way,
A feeding comes to stay.
No one can have what is not given right back.
That is not the way,
A feeding comes to stay.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Those Pickings Grow Slim
Although their cupboards are bare,
Those nourished on a greatness...
Have not been prepared,
To one day accept...
Their supply will be blocked.
No longer stocked,
With a variety of treats...
From which to pick and eat.
Or abandoned!
And as those pickings grow slim...
A protesting to be fed,
The familiar taste of delusion...
Begins to set in!
As vocal demands become impatient.
And,
However their demands are met...
And done,
Is all that they will welcome.
As they regard truths of shortages...
To be myths they resist,
And dismissed as jokes...
Poked,
On those less fortunate.
And they have been conditioned,
They will never become those folks to be poked...
Or joked.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We Are The Good Guys
What lies behind these words thick, heavy, and dark.
A stroll at midnight through the park.
A slasher film gone terribly wrong.
The killer dies before the murders can even start.
As hate turns into love from far above.
A shadow knight gazing upon the sun.
He knows it will mean instance death if he looks yet he still does.
It was not the way it was suppose to be.
And with the supposing their was only one possibility.
A delight of delights, with heaven almost in sight.
Breaking the angel wings, ripping them off, and making them his own.
Cruel and unjust, but how would it be if it was the only way.
That is to say in a world where only one rule rules.
A blatant attempt to try to make everyone eat the same old gruel day after day.
Watch as the taste buds within the tongue decay.
They know of nothing any better so why would they even care.
Oblivious to the world beyond which I let them see,
It is for all our own good.
Let the mind not be tempted by wondering thoughts for who really knows where of this wondering might lead
As if something only of the bad could ever come.
A fear unjust, but engaged in so much.
You can't protect yourself only we can.
So their is most certainly no need for you to have those guns.
The right to bare arms against most certainly not us.
Oh how the tables could turn and have already.
A projected image of our constant happiness.
But how could that be in any reality?
Visions so poor, images continuously blurred.
What you think you saw was really never their.
A panic of the great despair.
Please we need to breath so clear the air.
A constant of squeezing is not nurturing, but instead smothering.
A life choked out, by its own heritage.
You were born into it so you will never escape.
The race is fixed and only we know the winners.
We create them every day.
Images for you to continuous idolize while our lies are written into law.
Effective immediately to save you.
Come on now you would not refuse the help, for I know you need it.
All we ask is first you must let us spit in your face as we chain you to this electric fence.
No how much do you want with the switch being in our hand.
Just remember we were the ones that gave a damn.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Gimmick Twist
With tried and tired images,
Marketed to boost a drifting morale.
Limits are not given to a gimmick twist.
Used to provide a lift to a sliding confidence...
Shifting from fantasies!
Many bred and thirsting as their realities.
And they must be kept,
In a conformity supporting deceptions believed.
If they are swept into a revealing truth...
Where would this leave,
Those drugged on concepts.
And teased by falsities...
Those behind the scenes,
Are hoping crushes those left...
And out of breath,
To spread the advantages...
Of re-enforcing,
A higher consciousness!
If one should leave their comfort zones...
Where restrictions placed at their doorsteps,
Welcomes an intended implementation...
To distract with an attraction,
To self inflict a mental disease.
Condoned!
Of course...
They will never find their way back 'home'.
Or recognized the cleverness,
Used against them to disturb their rest.
And...
Coming easy and quick!
To appease the taste for conflict of all kinds.
Absorbing,
Independent thinking minds with teases.
Hoping a taste will satisfy an addiction,
With a needless but craved wish...
For a waste that slips from their reach!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Doesn't Matter Who Says It Anymore
It doesn't matter who says it anymore.
Or what intent is meant when mentioned.
The straits have been beyond dire.
With no more campaigns to hire,
New marketing techniques to inspire...
another round of deceit.
Those in ruts,
Should be learning how to turn them into condos.
And that is the upside on those lifestyles,
Fed to address just their greed.
The ones who worshipped their material needs,
Have suddenly found those mindsets bleeding.
With warnings written high on surrounding walls...
DAYS OF FEASTING HAVE PASSED.
For all seeking to impress with images.
With an introduction to long lasting reality.
Not yours or mine.
But ours!
In a collective vision,
No one is going to miss!
As it dishes upon a clean slate,
Of meager plates.
With a buffet that takes all delusions away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fugitives
Of course there are those,
Who oppose sweeping changes.
Many of them accustomed,
To maintaining a snob appeal.
With a stunning realization,
Their tactics to hide flaws and character degradations...
Behind insecurities they decided,
Would be best to divide...
Those in groups,
They duped to choose to demoralize.
Has them on the run.
And not for sport or fun to be done.
Now the experience of the clearing of the field...
Yields their debris.
And produces screams...
'Where is the justice?
Where is 'our' democracy? '
ATTENTION. ATTENTION!
Now hear this...
~On the field of your endeavors!
That's where the yielding exposes your deeds.
And 'rights' to exploit without insight.
Your democracy has been sold, '
To those overseas.~
Of course there are those,
Who enjoyed being 'they' and 'them'.
And to be subjected,
To effective disrespect...
Without definite identities.
Pleasing many of them,
To just lay low as victims.
In minority blends,
And considered non-entities.
A status that leaves many quite pleased.
That declaration keeps them hidden,
From accountability.
With fears their incompetence,
Would someday have a visibility.
And accusations shared,
Would no longer be a necessity.
As an openness,
Would set them free.
A freedom not before conceived.
*We are now free?
Why? *
And divisions between those of pretensions,
And those oppressed by deceitful deeds.
Eventually becomes more apparent,
As to who has been enslaved.
By lifestyles generated in dishonesty.
And who accepted scaps,
As a shallowing done...
While feasting on superficial greed.
Of course there are those,
Who oppose sweeping changes.
Of course there are those,
Who enjoyed being 'they' and 'them.
Now all affected have been left,
With addictions that transfixed.
In traumatic depression.
And a fear of reality,
That attacks their fantasies.
Fantasies fed.
And...
In their minds sit fixed!
All affected have been left.
In traumatic depression.
And fears of reality.
As fantasies kept deluded,
Refuses truth...
In the mix.
Standards and values are being attacked.
As they sit fixed in minds denying...
They are suspects.
And they are...
Fugitives left clue and witless.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Defeating Insecurities
Allowed to manifest an infestation,
That protested a digesting of progress.
With visions kept focused on ignorance...
To leave all to seek the best of their weeping.
Look!
Simply put.
Flourishing hype and propaganda,
Debated for the purposes to maintain greatness...
Does not meet to satisfy,
Those pushed to the streets...
To glorify a losing quality of life.
Simply put,
And without proper etiquette...
Days of high profile postering,
In stances taken now weakened.
Has increasingly decreased a respect once received,
Defeating insecurities...
And those pretentions kept to have others believe.
Politics and indecisions exposed,
Does not keep aged old traditions fading...
Upper most in the minds of those in tattered clothes.
Fresh minds advancing to reach new plateaus...
Have decades ago,
Left horse drawn carriages.
While a population strolled along,
Under oil lighted street lamps...
Slowly walking upon those cobbled stone roads.
And the ones holding positions,
To keep days and times like this standing still...
Are the very same people,
Wishing to keep an implementation...
Of this mindset for many no longer exists.
An ignorance cemented and does not self examine,
Loses more than memories to relive and breathe.
Minds fixed and stubborn inflict wounds never to heal.
Wounds future generations will remember as revealed,
As those times when their ancestors fed upon greed...
And lost an opportunity for a greatness to seal.
Allowed to manifest an infestation,
That protested a digesting of progress.
With visions kept focused on ignorance...
To leave all to seek the best of their weeping.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tired of Being the One Stung
Some have no idea they are loved unconditionally.
They perceive themselves to be the honey,
To an addicted bee.
And when that bee takes flight...
The one who believed the honey 'had' would last,
Discovers too late in a self reflection...
'That' bee was the only one,
Who could supply the honey preferred and liked.
To leave the one left for a taste for some.
When a craving missed...
Abandons a dismissed appetite.
And nothing done,
By those pretending to be 'that' bee...
Could come to satisfy like the one,
Who flew the hive!
After getting tired of being the one stung.
And what had been unconditional,
Is wished to return to quench the taste.
But the one who knows what it takes...
Can no longer waste what is made,
On anyone who believes...
They've got the only hive around.
And 'that' bee wont flee!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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