Related quotes: People seem to be dazed,...

In An 'Awesomestruckness

People seem to be dazed,
In an 'awesomestruckness'.
Being peeled away from fantasies...
To witness in disbelief,
An audacity confronting them.
With low credit scores.
And poor returns on money wasted,
They so once adored.

A consuming of delusions,
Has faded their quick to sweeten interludes.
A discourse has taken place!
And the cost of their neglect...
Has soured their protected harmonies.
Along with planned vacations they were to take.

Realities have not left them pleased with this.
Such an 'awesomestruckness' striking...
To endanger their moisturized,
And bitten to lick cracking lips.

An embittered taste begins erasing...
Their addiction for delicious waste.
Even their protests are ignored,
As they scour at the prices...
Of melons they would squeeze,
At local stores...
Beginning to soar.

Scenes with bling and other things,
Are diminishing from their diets.
Nails and wigs with flowing extensions...
Have found many unable to afford,
Even their arched eyebrows to be plucked.
How can this bush above their eyes,
Be ignored?

Panic over antics done...
Has caused some men to go unlifted.
When the use of viagra can not overcome...
Dwindling wallets being emptied,
As they limp stunned.

This awesomestruckness has startled,
Those of romanticizing disguises!
A veil once protecting them,
From reality
Has suddenly been lifted to shock.
No longer can they mock those of the 'have nots'.
Now that they have been dropped...
Like those they had shown no pity!
And many show them none.
As they do a public flip flopping,
In view of everyone.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Told to Go to a Heated Place

People are crazed.
And don't know what they want.

They want the government out of their lives.
And yet they want to be protected from terrorists.
As well as those they know,
Who are revealed to be thieves.
Their next door neighbors...
Who have committed petty crimes.
The ones who drive Benzes and Mercedes.

They wish not to pay another tax.
But expect free this and that...
And become angered,
When they spend their last dime.
Wasted on craps.
And other casino traps.

No second best!
They want to be better than the rest.
They want to build and show progress.
They want their stores stocked like packed nests.
They want to dress and stop breaths...
Because they want to look so good!
Moisturized, tanned and...
Buffed.

And they want to pocket huge dollars for doing,
Less than they should.
ALL...
Delivered by the Good Witch from the East,
Glenda!
Remember her from the Wizard of Oz?
Glenda?
The one who promised Dorothy,
If she really wanted...
She could and 'would' get back to Kansas.
Or get that which her heart truly desired.
Just with the clicking of her pumped and Rubied heels.
Three times.
And...
That's all it would take!

'Please let me get back to a credit A rating!
Please let me get back to a credit A rating!
Please let me get back to a credit A rating! '

People are crazed.
And don't know what they want.

They want also to be the first to occupy 'Space'.
You know...
Outer Space?
With much of that 'inner' space between their ears vacant.

They want the government out of their lives.
Day and night,
Loudly they make this clear.
But want their interests protected by those they elect...
Done.
And 'stunned' by the cost,
To maintain their exorbitant delusions.

And those who confront them...
Are told to go to a heated place!
And while there,
To kiss where the Sun does not shine!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In Communal Collectivity

They come for the last of your freedoms.
With sugar glazed explanations.
To accept the taste without explanation.
In communal collectivity...
The few will make themselves untouchable,
By erasing everything...
People thought had been valuable.
And pooling everyone into a one world vision.
And doing this to insure...
Those selected and with wealth,
Will meet as a federation...
To make all decisions,
As a proclamation for humanity's destination.

To those still dabbling in delusions,
With wishes to select the best leader...
To restore their fantasies,
Are still dazed in disbelief!
Those who are aware and 'see'
Must extend our best wishes for their speedy recovery.
The onslaught of reality is amongst us NOW!
And the beginnings of One World Federation rule,
Has begun with the collapsing of the economy!
To leave those deceived left behind like fools!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Understood To Exclude Them From Truths

When one gets too accustomed,
To embellishing what they've done...
Partial truths are told.
To bestow as shown to everyone.

Quick to betray,
If their insecurities are threatened.
But yet to display,
Are their excuses made with few exceptions.

Associations with people like this,
Over time decreases in respect.
Explanations of their neglect...
Eventually from them some should expect.

When one gets too accustomed,
To embellishing what they've done...
Partial truths are told.
To bestow as shown to everyone.

Maturity is dismissed,
In the minds of people with this addiction.
And it is unfortunate they allow themselves...
To be chased away by delusions.

With a praying done their delusions will stay,
To be understood to exclude them...
From truths they painfully detest.
And hate to face from day to day.
As a life lived in reality eventually fades.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Those Most Dependable

Those most dependable,
Are not the ones we show...
A giving of respect.
They're often people we neglect.
Those most dependable,
Are not the ones we show...
A giving of respect.
They're often people we neglect.

We take for granted when we panic,
Those who'll fix our needs.
And when they've finished doing that,
We don't show them we're pleased.

Those most dependable,
Are not the ones we show...
A giving of respect.
They're often people we neglect.

And on them we're dependent,
But we choose them to offend.
We think of them to think of us,
When daylight comes until it ends.

Those most dependable,
Are not the ones we show...
A giving of respect.
They're often people we neglect.

We take for granted when we panic,
Those who'll fix our needs.
And when they've finished doing that,
We don't show them we're pleased.

The most dependable...
Are often people we neglect.
The most dependable...
Are often people we neglect.
The most dependable...
Are often those we disrespect.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Queen of Oars

There is a lasting benefit to growing up poor.
And dealing with the 'guts' of reality.

One carries a perception...
That to observe closely every detail of one's life,
A lot of time is saved from wishful thinking.

And before crime became one's sole purpose for living...
Those, in the early days of struggle,
Benefitted by not taking things for granted.
Like the basics...
Food.
Clothing.
And a roof over one's head.
Those were the days before fantasy became the rage!

Today...
Reality,
Like truth...
Is a thing people rather not discuss.
It is feared.
You can not show enough of it.
It still will not be believed...
As an anchor which rescues.

People purchase things they do not need,
Or can afford today.
But can buy with good credit.
Or what's left of it.
Having a plastic card without a dime in one's pocket...
Will throw a nose higher in the air,
In any shopping mall!

I overheard a conversation about the current devastation.
One was in total disbelief,
That the economy was bleeding.
The other was a woman who professed her hopes,
That the 'ship' would not sink!
She didn't appear to be cracked on dope.
She was going to shop for jewelry...
And look for bargains to purchase a 'mink'.
In July?

I could not help but think...
'She is not even blinking.
Poor thing!
She must be medicated to the brim.
At least to the brink.
Could she actually afford,
That kind of 'bling'? '

So many are living in a world they ignore.
And I approach to interrupt,
Those two in discussion.
And without apology I stated...
'I have a message for you both.
Your ship 'is' sinking.
Believe it...get a row boat.
Neither one of you need a mink.
Even delusions will not float.
One of you I annoint, Queen of Flights of Fancy.
The other I declare, Queen of Oars.
The crew will never be bored! '

Of course...
I had no choice but to leave immediately.
When they both began to scream loudly,
For security!

And I did not feel guilty at all...
As I continued to stalk the mall!
Observing those treasuring their packaged 'things'.
Unaware of their dwindling dreams!
In times that seem...
So remarkably bewitched.
As I amuse myself surrounded,
By so many who have been...
With their materialisms addicted!

Inspired by:
One of the most positive thinking people I know...
Frances Jeffrey McAlpine Sharp
Hartford, Connecticut

'Thank you, Ms Frances.
You are, indeed, a gift of inspiration.
Yes, we have had our 'moments'
However...
I can not deny you are 'blessed'.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Resuscitation Gifts

Standing back and peeking.
Through a cracked door.
Insuring a recession ignores them.
And stays across the street.

A double talk heard and spoken,
From both sides of mouths...
Have been pouring out!
And awakening those shakened in disbelief,
Resuscitation gifts promised...
Will help them take a leap.
With fantasies intact,
And fantasies safely wrapped...
To soothe anxieties eased by anticipation.

And a death that creeps...
With a murdering of realities,
Deepens even in confinement...
The minds of those clinging onto possessions,
With tight clawed grips!
Visions are being shattered.
Stunned...
And no one can get over the quickness of it!

Yet they weep...
As others moan!
The groans are getting closer to 'home'.

Grim reapers have been released.
And those who sneak peeks,
Are hoping to block the shock that comes.
They stay inside their homes whispering.
With no desire to participate...
A fate that belongs to others.
They will not smother their nurtured delusions.
This is the only thing left they own!
And they will protect them at any cost.
Even though the lost of them...is certain!

Resuscitation gifts to keep them uplifted,
May not arrive on time!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Discovered As Delicious

Many have a need to cling...
Like a fruit maturing,
That has of yet been picked.
And sits with a grip,
Agonizing over it in a nervousness.

Prolonging the experience...
Of being bitten.
And wishing not to be chewed.
Or spitted about...
In a noticeable disappointment.

But sooner than later it is dropped.
From that which has gotten too tired,
Of its clinging.
Too weary of a fruit that has aged.
And an abrupt disconnection occurs.
The benefit of it seems no longer to pay!

Shakened and disturbed by this,
The fruit begins to flounder in a reminiscing.
Left to thrive with or without comprehension...
In which direction to roll,
Or drift...
Until it finds it feels a fit.

Hopefully comfortable enough,
With itself...
To allow it discovered as delicious.
Or become saddened...
That it has been left alone to rot!
A condition condoned!
With no value to itself emphasized and known.

The structure and purpose of it was missed.
But this with consistent preparation...
Could have been a mindset stopped.
And the value of it shown as part of the crop,
Enhanced.
With expectations of it,
By all who would come to taste...
As juicy to the lips,
Down to the core!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Red Grape

You're like a piece of sugar on the vine,
That's been resisted.
And sitting lusciously delicious,
Waiting to get plucked...
When time comes for the picking.

You're like a piece of sugar on the vine,
That's been resisted.
And sitting lusciously delicious,
Waiting to get plucked...
When time comes for the picking.
By someone patient,
Who sits wishing for you to lick.

You're like sugar on the vine,
Not ripe to lick.
You may be a nine in someone's mind.
But not quite ready to snip and pick.
Or slowly drip from someone's lips.

Red grape...
You're not quite ready to squeeze between teeth.
Red grape...
Your sweetness teases tongues among some.
And,
Red grape...
You look so ripe,
For an easy pick to lick!

You're like a piece of sugar on the vine,
That's been resisted.
And sitting lusciously delicious,
Waiting to get plucked...
When time comes for the picking.
But,
Red grape...
You're not quite ready to squeeze between teeth.
And,
Red grape...
You look so ripe,
For an easy pick to lick!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Truth Has Come To Stay

Scrap those plans,
To keep delusions safe...
In a protected place.
Realities must be faced.
Time no longer awaits,
For decisions to be made...
After wasteful debates.

Scrap those plans,
To keep delusions safe...
In a protected place.
An honesty arrives and will be felt.
Whether on knees,
Or with a tightening of a belt...
Truth has come to stay!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ruffled Puffers

Don't keep yours a secret.
Tease with a dazzling and make it lurch.
Ruffle feathers of those puffing,
Of bling to brag with a sparkling that dims.
What you have nobody's got.
Just your presence alone,
Brings a brightness to eyes making time stop...
With a starting from the beginning,
That puts an end to their shenanigans.

Don't keep it a secret.
Keep it worked.
Muffle up to shut those ruffled puffers.
Your presence alone has them on alert.
As if your arrival announced the time for dessert.
Just feed them with your unique treatment.
Those stunned still take crumbs to taste.
While grumbling as they nibble to lick...
Slowly to an exit yet too startled from it to run.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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From You This Is Kept Secret

The dollar bill is worthless.
Why are you the last one,
On Earth to know this?
Why are you protected,
By such obvious lies?
And the truth comes as pain,
And kept from it...
There's nothing left for you to gain.

Is it because your fantasies are enforced?
And your delusions are encouraged...
To delay this course of certain divorce?
Hoping addictions aided and supplied...
Will cushion the fall of every belief you hold,
Although they are going to crumble and soon die!

Everyone who sees this is real and comes...
Wonder why,
This truth stares!
And you are prepared from it to run,
Stunned!
It is over and done.
But from you this is kept secret!
From you this truth is denied!
Why?

Even your racists antics fed,
Will not dry a tear you cry!
Or soften the blows of increased,
But weakened alibis.
And this is being watched,
By those with opened eyes...
Who see you are quick to self destruct,
With standards and values sinking you deeper...
Into a darkened hole that sucks you up!
While you are determined,
To save your exposed and naked butt!

Perhaps one reason you have not been told...
Is to keep your point of view,
Believing you are powerful, valiant and bold!
And if that wasn't done...
There would be no reason,
To feed you fears of enemies...
To overpower with pretense,
With a sense of hollow victories!
And shallow accomplishments won!

'How long is this...
Slow withdrawal going to exist? '

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Traumatic Has to Be the Reality Faced

Traumatic for many,
These days lived...
Has to be.
Especially for the ones who identified,
Their lives and self worth...
With the ability to purchase 'bling',
And other materialistic things.
With money that from them is dwindling.

Traumatic has to be the reality faced,
There is no substitute for truth that can be replaced.
Nor are there those empathetic,
Who have grown accustomed...
To finding their way on the streets to eat and sleep.
And yet those with beliefs they are above all of this,
Find themselves indebted to their beliefs...
They wish to keep.

And...
Traumatic for many,
These days lived...
Has to be.
For those who make demands as if...
Their lifestyles can be sustained,
By squeezing them...
From an economy based on credit.
That has exhausted all fantasies,
Once supporting a delusion...
There was no ending that came to a feeding of a feast.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Over the Hills for M'lady Ernestine

Over the hills.

Beyond the distant hills there lies.
A wonderland a paradise.
Not often seen by mortal eyes.
Alternative reality
which only dreamers ever see.
Imagination is the key.

That’s needed to unlock the door
and let your restless spirit soar
on high to where it can explore.
Beyond the range of normal sigh
to scenes which guarantee delight
and satisfy your appetite.

For things that may or may not be.
Indulge your taste for fantasy
Imagine what you want to see
Beyond the hills you can pretend
that you have found the rainbows end
You’ll find your day dreams can transcend.

All of the normal boundaries.
You can imagine what you please.
No limit to your fantasies.
Nobody can dispute the view
which you accept as being true.
Your dreams belong only to you.

Though other folks have different dreams.
Of crystal pools and flowing streams.
Each to their own or so it seems.
Beyond the distant hills there lies
a wonderland a paradise.
That’s only seen by dreamer’s eyes.

Tuesday,10 August 2010.
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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An Exchanging Of Footsteps

Could it still be a possibility,
That one's life lived exclusively...
Running away from responsibility,
Can learn after many years spent...
Ignoring the benefits obtained,
In acquiring skills in arithmetic.
Or the process it takes to comprehend,
What has been read to broaden a limitation...
Accepted in one's head instead,
To begin to attach those pieces that fit.
And they eventually could sit patiently,
With a doing of this?

Let us not be quick,
To lift with a raising up of our right eyebrows!

Many dismissing the discipline it takes,
To quietly absorb a practice in listening...
Actually wait until it's too late,
To find someone desiring to teach an adult...
To undo those childish stunts in a mind done.
Even children in their fifties can learn!

Let us not be quick,
To lift with a raising up of our right eyebrows!

A willingness to waste another's time,
Is okay.
Until it has become decided,
Someone's seriousness is ready to be displayed.
And...
Is reason enough to give away,
Those experiences acquired by someone else.
And we all can participate in the joys of life.

Let us not be quick,
To lift with a raising up of our right eyebrows!

There are people all over the place,
Willing to sacrifice their time, minds and efforts...
With their experiences suffered alone to condone,
In an exchanging of footsteps!
All it takes...
Is just for 'one' of us to let this be known.

Let us not be quick,
To lift with a raising up of our right eyebrows!
Let us, you and me...and Mother Love,
Just for a few moments abandon realities!
And...
Use our minds to perceive of this,
Idealistically.

'Yep!
Didn't I tell you?
They were doing much more,
Than the changing of test scores...
In the teacher's lounge.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Climb To Claim!

modern human at the markets,
want to get everything quicker,
the wrapped up delicious imported fruits,
look clean with no holes as the local apples,
the oranges gone through bathing process,
to be exported, the juicy fruits of,
rambuttan, Durians, Mangoes and bananas,
mostly organic and visited by their friends,
the pest and plucked by human, painfully bitten,
ask the kid where she gets the mango from,
she may say 'from the stores', not knowing hardship,
Let every kid learn the truth,
nothing comes easier on their plates.

I had climbed the trees of various textures,
When I was young, I was close to the nature,
Whenever I went back home for holidays,
Pesticides not around to declare mayday,
For insects, mollusk and escaped crustaceans,
Train like millipede with red and black hues,
Venomous Centipedes found below moist heaps,
Sweet mangoes invite ants of all sizes,
Jackfruits are the good hosts to bees and flies,
Careful and cautious, I aimed to pick up the fruit,
Though very high for my body that was too petite,
Many times bitten mercilessly to have swelling heart,
A group of drunken bees arrived to make me a drunk,
tolerance kept me awake to climb to the top,
Plucked those fruits victoriously without dropping,
Returned to show my people for them to have,
The taste of sweet success that is hidden,
not far away from our illusionized vision.
the victory acquired through hardship,
appreciated for ever, to reach higher height.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Lips Freer To Speak

My hands seem to tremble...
And not as nimble as they were.
My legs seem to shake,
With each step I take.
My vision once clear...
Now without glasses blur!
My words once chosen,
Are quick to blurt and stir!
Blunt are passages,
That dance on my tongue.
And I find myself caught,
As stunned as everyone!
My mind and time...
Are better now defined.
And when I leave an opinion given,
I leave it as delivered...
Without a need to feel it must be driven!
I don't beat around the bush...
Or hide behind the trees!
I finally found who I am...
And pleased to reveal that reality as 'me'!
Although aging has made my lips freer to speak,
It has taken my ass a little longer to flee.
With a bravery intact...
That empowers my pride and dignity!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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