Increases In Staleness
The suddenness of quick endings,
Seem to come suddenly...
And not subtle at all,
Don't they?
Even in the midst of cocktail sipping,
This may occur.
Without warning,
A beginning that has promise...
To remain forever,
Caressed by an effervescentness...
Doesn't age like fine wine most times,
But flatens in taste.
And increases in staleness...
To produce a noticeable waste.
'Are you sure this is 'Chablis'...? '
And a staleness gone unprotected,
Eventually reeks with a stench.
Just like anything taken for granted,
That not longer supports...
But ends,
A pretentiousness that is witnessed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
From an Issue Having No Resolve
What more can anyone expect,
From an issue having no resolve.
A wasteless debate with those at odds...
Seems as predictable as one who procrastinates.
There is an agreement that nothing changes.
Like the staleness of an environment...
In the midst of a redundant progress,
That has sat on the verge of movement.
Only to be discussed by those who have aged in waiting.
Sitting on fences convinced of an award that comes,
Just for the endurance of doing it!
And professing there has been a joy spent.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Once Your Fears Are Faced
I wish to bring you fear?
With a convincing done of it?
No! You are the one convinced,
That a truth spoken to you...
Is to be feared with a quick defense.
And you regard me,
As someone who offends...
Your pretentiousness to replace?
But it has been this pretentiousness,
Preventing your happiness you have erased.
What I offer and bring to you,
Is the closest you have ever been...
To anything you can refer and call an awakening.
With a beginning of a reality,
You need not fear once your fears are faced.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Quickened Endings Speeds The Change
Quickened endings speeds the change.
And games played once reliable...
No longer,
Remain the same.
Quickened endings speeds the change.
Knock down those blocks,
And...
Open up what's been locked.
Quickened endings speeds the change.
Don't try to cease them.
Hoping to keep...
Whole and complete in one piece,
A picture wanted perfect...
But,
Soon from you to leave.
Soon you will believe!
Quickened endings speeds the change.
Let what was known go!
And....
Don't try to cease this speed.
Quickened endings speeds the change.
And games played once reliable...
No longer remain.
So...
Knock down those blocks,
And...
Open up what's been locked.
It's futile to keep clinging,
To meanings coming to a stop!
Quickened endings speeds the change.
And...
Don't try to cease them,
With a picture held to keep.
Quickened endings speeds the change.
And...
Don't try to cease them,
With a picture held to keep.
Quickened endings speeds the change.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Giddy Fit
Suddenly a wilting blooms,
When a meeting that is right
Lifts one from gloom.
Eyes once clouded,
Brighten as if lit!
Holding excitement inside,
Like a teenager riding...
On a wave of a giddy fit!
And what is it that happens,
That ignites this spark to flame?
Especially when such heat arrives,
Without being introduced by name!
Something that has laid dormant,
Begins to let sunshine in!
To remain as a welcome change,
And rids a staleness that should end!
All that matters when beginnings like this starts...
A budding of two have begun to pursue,
Desires that have attracted their hearts!
And time is not to be wasted...
Playing hard to get with pretense of disinterest,
When a togetherness like this is meant!
And sending away a need to delay...
A chance to attract an allure of inducement.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Restricted Detriment
Your wishes to remove my thoughts...
Are as ridiculous,
As your demands to shut one's lips.
Or have someone produce something less offensive...
So you would be pleased with it.
But you are not the keeper of another's experience.
And your desire to censor one's speech...
Comes to your restricted detriment.
Found by many,
To be out of touch with reality.
With perceptions removed from common sense.
Enforcing a limitation to degrade a creativity.
Is a pointless action taken.
And the actual power you have no one questions.
Is to remain stagnant in a stench that reeks.
With a demented agitation.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Isolated Demonstrations of Ego
If you have not been actively participating,
In seeking solutions to fix existing problems.
And you have been the kind to wine and dine...
To find those times now gone.
Any grudges you hold...
With complaints intact!
Are not valid.
If you declare your faith is there.
And you are on your knees pleading to God.
In the hopes your addictions and habits,
Remain untouched.
While you hide in the midst of shadows,
To ridicule those who are sacrificing much.
And all your wishes are to have things your way...
Unchanged in a stubbornness often displayed.
You have absolutely nothing to say,
To anyone who desires to hear it.
Since all your time spent...
Has been in a self centered pretentiousness.
If I were you,
Which I am not!
I would do my best...
To locate a psychiatrist and pay to protest.
Because your standards and way of life...
Has been rejected!
With no one left to monitor,
Your isolated demonstrations of ego!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Premature extinction
The old couple has no sex
Though they haven’t lost
Their interest in sex
Or ability in sex..
Let the pair be paired
With the new partners.
They would resume their sex
As if they were lad and lass.
Sexual urge is killed
In each one prematurely
Because of staleness.
04.10.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Their Main Focus And Purpose
Their main focus and purpose in life,
Is what's between somebody's legs.
Up their rear ends, in their mouths...
Size of chest, arms, thighs,
And caring less what is in their heads.
The outsourcing and downsizing done,
Effectively started with a dumbdowning first.
And for some reason,
The dysfunctions of the people have become prioritized...
As a way of perceiving themselves as normal 'creatures'.
With concerns as to who is straight giving that image,
And not one of them capable of providing proof...
A thought they have in their heads,
Originated as a result of their own initiative.
But quick they are to accept anything heard,
Or thrown in their faces as evidence that qualifies them...
As being no lost relative of Einstein.
Their noses are too smashed in the cracks,
Of other people's business.
So much so that trash has collected in stacks,
In their own homes.
With a cleaning of a stench that reeks as if,
Someone inside of it doesn't know a thing about hygiene.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Set New Compassions
Honor every joy that comes into your life.
Honor all the people and see everyone as equal.
Honor that feeling felt inside that makes it alright,
To be relieved of routines,
And the staleness observe in the growing of mold.
At dawn,
Just rise up.
Feeling you've awakened with that midas touch.
With indecision never coming near.
As fortunes suddenly for you appear.
At dawn,
Just rise up.
Take off and ride beyond your atmosphere.
Be bold and let go of that load you hold.
Set new compassions; set new goals.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If Amy Lowell Had Been James Whitcomb Riley
When you came you were like red wine and honey,
And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
Now you are like morning bread--
Smooth and pleasant,
I hardly taste you at all, for I know your savour,
But I am completely nourished.
--AMY LOWELL, in The Chimæra.
When I wuz courtin' Annie, she wuz honey an' red wine,
She made me feel all jumpy, did that ol' sweetheart o' mine;
Wunst w'en I went to Crawfordsville, on one o' them there trips,
I kissed her--an' the burnin' taste wuz sizzlin' on my lips.
An' now I've married Annie, an' I see her all the time,
I do not feel the daily need o' bustin' into rhyme.
An' now the wine-y taste is gone, fer Annie's always there,
An' I take her fer granted now, the same ez sun an' air.
But though the honey taste wuz sweet, an' though the wine wuz strong,
Yet ef I lost the sun an' air, I couldn't git along.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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Welcomed Are Those of Fresh Voices
So welcomed are those of fresh voices,
Giving points of view...
From new avenues,
And unsubdued by aging thought.
The ones upon which...
Dust has settled.
With nothing gained to be taught.
Here to speak from your perspective.
Clearing the staleness...
That comforts some,
In air the reeks of molding affairs.
So welcomed are those of fresh voices,
Giving points of view...
From new avenues,
And unsubdued by aging thought.
The ones upon which...
Dust has settled.
With nothing gained to be taught.
Or teases with a brisk breeze.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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New house
Stepping onto the hard floor,
no memories to be shared here,
thoughts are neutral no emotion,
the unnerving stench of staleness,
and unlived in state feels so impersonal,
so uncomfortable,
memories piled high in our old home,
and stored like books in my head,
it feels so cold here,
unexplainable feeling of fear,
no aroma of delicious food flowing through the house,
the rooms are not personalised,
just stripped bare,
dust flies through the air,
it can't be called a home yet,
it's just a house with inhabitants,
it can only be called mine,
but i will continue to see our previous house as home,
it'll take getting used to,
it'll take time,
i'll try and make it feel like mine now,
living in the new house.
poem by Emily Summers
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I Want A Warning
History is made, not repeated
And you hide behind words that make you feel needed
And what you read in those books made you so conceited
So in order for love to be true
My dreams will have to
Become my only rules
I want a warning
I want a warning
I want something more than a warning
I've been warned about you
I see through all your promises and warnings
I want a warning
I want a warning
I want something more than a warning
I've been warned about you
I see through all your promises and warnings
Wake me up on into a world outdated
And the older you get the more you seem jaded
As you search for the quotes to make it seem complicated
So in order for love to be true
Even my nightmares
Become my only rules
I want a warning
I want a warning
I want something more than a warning
I've been warned about you
I see through all your promises and warnings
I want a warning
I want a warning
I want something more than a warning
I've been warned about you
But I've seen through
Every promise is a warning
I want a warning
I want a warning
I want something more than a warning
I've been warned about you
I see through all your promises and warnings
I want a warning
I want a warning
I want something more than a warning
I've been warned about you
I've seen through
For a promise of a warning
song performed by by Idlewild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Easy Made Cake
Easy made cake...
Doesn't taste,
Homemade.
An easy made cake...
Doesn't taste,
Homemade.
Or does it age...
Like a fine wine.
Made from grapes,
Picked and saved...
Off of a selected vine.
Easy made cake...
Doesn't taste,
Homemade.
Or have a flavor staying,
In one's mind.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Smell of Romance
When I am away from you
Or you are away
I sniff the air for your smell
I weave your image in my eyes
Let it roam into my mind.
I feel forlorn when I miss you.
The distance creates an aura of romance -
Moments without you, yet filled with you.
Coming back reinstates the staleness,
Of being too close for too long!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Massively Triggered
A suddenness to quickly undo,
Apparently is cosmic and unavoidable.
A widening split between those who are conscious,
And those completely out of it.
Can not be ignored to go unnoticed.
Even nature is rebelling with compelling evidence.
An instability growing rapidly has become an effect.
Of an inoculation it seems.
And seasons of annually announced,
Wide spread diseases no longer threaten.
Although the affects of cures.
Have purposely deranged as if time released.
Strange,
How massively triggered.
Are these global conflicts today witnessed.
Is the madness imagined?
Or is it ordained.
To force an acceptance of change.
And we are in the midst of this process.
Progressing as a butterfly would shed its cocoon.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Wine can only be drunk once
Fine wine, unlike fine poetry.
Must be given time to mature,
selected for its quality.
You must be absolutely sure.
To store it very carefully
undisturbed perhaps for years.
I much prefer fine poetry
which rings like music in my ears.
Dependent on your taste of course.
My ears drink in well spoken verse.
My taste in wine is rather coarse
but it is easy on my purse.
I read fine poetry for free
from books stored in my library.
5-Sep-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A Creative Mind
The solid foundation of an ideal
Is the equivalent to the depth
Of the mind and the hands
Which design destiny...
Borders outlined
By the possibility of success
Delineating the horizons
Of a renew energy of life...
Entirely new,
Outer dimensions,
Dissolve the staleness,
Replacing it with creativity...
Cosmic and dynamic forces
Are all counterparts
Of a unique shaped form
Which has no end or beginning
Like a circumference...
Poignant and rich thoughts
Freely traversing the universe
And breaking the barrier of time
To carry the true message of:
'Love and Peace for always'!
©All Rights Reserved-2011
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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The Taste of Cold Dregs
(a whisper reaches your ear:
‘nobody likes the taste of cold dregs…’
and you attach no meaning to it)
you linger reposed beneath the sinking light
the soft yellow glow that rightfully
belongs
to yesterday
and your face reflects
in the thin sheet of glass
behind which you remain
separate
from everybody you’ve met
and everybody
you’ve yet to meet
your fingertips resonate with your
identity
your mind resonates with
nothing
(it seems you‘ve misplaced your identity)
emptiness
and a pretentious cup of tea
is all you’re living for
and you are defined only
by tea leaves and a herbal scent
upon your breath
(and you’ve never seen the future
in your tea leaves…
you’ve never even looked)
your imprints defile
a cracked cup
splattered with fading
flowers
and as the world passes by
you remain on your stool
(reflecting the soft yellow light)
sipping and sipping and sipping
your life away
In tiny portions
leaving only the fingerprints on your cup
and the cold, black dregs
(which taste bitter on your tongue)
to suggest
that you were ever there…
poem by Abby Koning
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Lines And Tied Ends
Lines they say
Go on for, forever and a day
When I was but a youth I would say ok
But not today
For an expression comes to mind... how fey
For with this expression I must inveigh
For I have heard 'This is the end of the line'
But this defies logic and math
Maybe the end of a path
But not a line
Interesting it would take some time
To understand this, so I use this concept in a rhyme
This rhyme baleful in nature and maybe vile
Ugly like bile
Yet I need to tell
This story to stay well
The ends are tied, they are done, the ends are tied
Those parts of me have already partialy died
This is the end of the line, it will end
This is all there is
It's over my dear, my heart it seems, I will have to mend
Though the end is not mine
Though it seems
It is from you, you will cause it, no matter how fine
You will be the one to say the word 'no'
And then after that answer
I will never be the same, I'll die suddenly as if from a once dormant cancer
I promise you this end will be the halcyon end, the sleep i desired
poem by David Knox
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