En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Influence And Prestige

Keeping one's mind fantasized,
Does not return good dividends.
Nor does the hoarding of truth,
Keeps it unavoidable.
No one playing this game of Bingo,
Is going to be heard to win.

And...
The starting all over with new rules,
To school those unaccustomed to discipline...
Will not gain the attention,
Those grabbing onto their balls...
With threats to leave with perceptions they lead.

They follow themselves,
Down the road of bigger not better delusions.
With beliefs they can make someone listen,
To more created tales,
About their influence and prestige...
That has resulted in jealousy and envy.

'What are you whining about now? '

A 'piper' carrying a batch of promissary notes.
And a reluctance shown to masquerade,
Unpaid.
You didn't hear that from me.
I'm not the one whining.
I'm observing. Remember that!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Fly

I was sitting up in my bed,
When a little fly flew round my head.
Whenever the fly was in flight,
His buzz sounded just like a Microlight.

He buzzed really close to my left ear,
And I didn't like him being that near.
The fly, I found, really annoying:
With my patience, he was toying.

I was trying to read a poetry book,
But, my attention from it, he soon took,
On the words, I couldn't concentrate;
His constant whining made me really irate.

Very soon, I snuggled back down:
The fly's whining, I was keen to drown.
I put my head back under the cover:
Of flying insects, I am not a big lover.

But I could still hear the fly's whining;
Through my window, the sun was shining.
The whining sound was really high pitched;
The idea of more sleep, I very soon ditched.

Maybe he liked the warmth of my skin;
He seemed to like me, but I didn't like him.
I got out of bed, and I opened the door,
And, thankfully, I didn't see him anymore.

poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dynamite Satchel Of Pain

Lets write a song, baby
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
Now sit your ass in the chair and I'll tell you my name,
My daddy always told me that he didn't wanna hear me complain,
That's why my balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
I hope this song will explain,
Just why my balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
Well I was born in the back of a truck on the fourth of july,
I was raised by a Portuguese ninja who taught me to fly,
A business man pulled over and he asked if I needed a ride,
I had to eat that business man for lunch cos I wanted his tie,
Damn I look good in that tie,
Air born Portuguese ninja eats man for his tie,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My daddy always told me that he didn't wanna hear me complain,
That's why my balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain.

song performed by by Wheatus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dynomite Satchel Of Pain

Lets write a song, baby
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
Now sit your ass in the chair and I'll tell you my name,
My daddy always told me that he didn't wanna hear me complain,
That's why my balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
I hope this song will explain,
Just why my balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
Well I was born in the back of a truck on the fourth of july,
I was raised by a Portuguese ninja who taught me to fly,
A business man pulled over and he asked if I needed a ride,
I had to eat that business man for lunch cos I wanted his tie,
Damn I look good in that tie,
Air born Portuguese ninja eats man for his tie,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My daddy always told me that he didn't wanna hear me complain,
That's why my balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain.

song performed by by Wheatus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That's 'Almost' Funny

If one does anything perceived,
That gets an attention one deserves...
There will be envy expressed.
Or a sarcasm heard.

If one looks a certain way,
That hints of beauty...
Or an accepted physical presence,
There will be envy shown.
Or a 'player' hating comment thrown.

Forget about feelings of emotions felt.
Forget about struggles one is dealed and dealt.
Forget about living the process of life itself.
If it was about looks and what it took to survive...
Very few who victimize would not be around,
Expressing envy, jealousy...
Or rolling their nonproductive eyes.

Folks who provoke and poke their jokes,
Do more lieing than trying to invoke good strokes.

'That's some 'light' stuff!
Is your poetry on a diet? '

That's 'almost' funny.
It must be the season of the Easter Bunny?
I rate that one 'ha' with two hees.
Followed with a 'mind-your-business'.
Leave!
On a serious note...
You irritate me.

ANYWAY...

If one does anything perceived,
That gets an attention one deserves...
There will be envy expressed.
Or a sarcasm heard.

If one looks a certain way,
That hints of beauty...
Or an accepted physical presence,
There will be envy shown.
Or a 'player' hating comment thrown.

'To an 'ego' known.
Overblown.'

You have a lot of time to do absolutely 'nothing'.

'And with a 'nothingness' done,
You have achieved 'some' success.'

Buzz off!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some People Listen Some People Don't

You judge me before my words can come out
You can’t even look my way
And you leave me with no doubt
You won’t listen to a word I say
And I will never be heard by you
No matter what it is that I do
Some people listen some people don’t
Some people listen some people won’t

You shut me up before I can speak
You shut me up so you can keep me weak
Now I breaking all your rules
That you have made just for me
To keep me away from my history
From my strength and my dignity
Some people listen some people don’t
Some people listen some people won’t

You don’t know how many times I have prayed
That you would hear the words that I have to say
Now get out of the way
Because we no longer have to stay in this prison of the mind
Because we find you guilty of the ultimate crime
Now get out of the way
So that they can hear what I have to say
And begin to make their plans for escape today

Even though you made me a thug,
It is out of love that I put my message out
Find your voice in school and follow the Golden Rule
And shout it out, with out a doubt
That you will be heard, until you are heard
Right down to the very last word
Some people listen some people don’t
Some people listen some people won’t

poem by Brian Kilpatrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For Shrill The Piper Plays His Tune

When thoughts are idle wanderings
Words tumbled round and round
When feelings they turn inwardly
Still I hear the piper's sound.

When happiness is broken
And the Kings and Queens are gone
The piper's tune keeps playing
And I hear his victory song.

For even when awoken
From the sleepiness of time
There's a distant music playing
Heard clear within my mind

For shrill the piper plays his tune
That beckons every day
And when his tune is full played out
He carries us away.

No-one has seen this piper man
And no-one has seen him play
But we all can hear his mournfulness
And fear for what he'll say
No folds of fathered cornfields
And no breaking of the bread
The piper's tune keeps playing
With his words as yet unsaid.

For shrill the piper plays his tune
That beckons every day
And when his tune is full played out
He carries us away.

We can all hear if we but try
The piper's song so sweet
The musings and meanderings
Of souls lost whole complete
No piper plays before we're born
Before we touch the earth
The piper's tunes they all begin
From the moment of our birth.

For shrill the piper plays his tune
Like happiness disease'd
And all the notes that he plays out
Are our moments ill at ease.

Not one of us pays him to play
Nor gives him any score
For every note that he blows out
Is fully paid before
We entertain our wanderings
And confusion in the mind
For the piper's very soul turns out
To be both yours and mine.

For shrill the piper plays his tune
That beckons every day
And when his tune is full played out
He carries us away.

poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For Wanted Dreams To Come True

There will always be envy and jealousy directed,
To the ones shown and known to possess...
An attention given to their talent and abilities,
With other skills that may be assessed.
That develops eventually a thick skin,
One learns early to wrap and protect within.

Those without this focus,
Do not comprehend it is about the work first.
And not about absurd or hurtful remarks,
Coming from those in the shadows afraid...
To apply themselves with discipline,
And many sacrifices made.

It takes more than a wishing,
For wanted dreams to come true.
And not picking through and from delusions...
Like many fantasized do.

'Can you show me how to become,
As successful as you? '

~Sure!
Get on your knees and start crawling,
Until the bleeding starts.
And your bones are exposed too! ~

'Okay.
And then what? '

~Strip butt naked.
Allow your blemishes and flaws,
To be publicly seen.
And then have someone pour on you acid,
With a proving you are willing to endure anything.~

'Are you kidding?
I wouldn't be able to live through that.'

~Then you are not wanting success.
You just seek attention upon yourself to attract.
When you are able to smile,
With wounds still carried on your back...
Your dreams will soon arrive.
And only to you will the feeling of success,
Be achieved to see them survive.~

'That's nuts.
That's a bit too crazy.
What do your recommend as an alternative? '

~Here's one you might like.
Many have discovered this to be beneficial.~

'Oh good.
Let me hear it.'

~Pick any corner in your neighborhood.
And stand there to complain about your unlucky life.
Who knows...
Maybe one day someone will decide to join you.
And eventually you will draw a group of people,
Who will prove to you there is so much there and shared...
All of you have in common.

OH.
I almost forgot.
Try the liquor stores first.
Where you live,
There's at least two within a few blocks.~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old Joe was Bingo mad

I once knew a bloke called Joe
who was addicted to playing Bingo
he played nearly every day of his life
which cost him his marriage and his wife.
But Joe just could never pack it in
even though he hardly ever did win
as soon as he got out of his bed
the thought of Bingo came into his head.
The biggest win he ever had was sixty quid
and even then he shared it with his pal Sid
but Joe said one day he'd win the jackpot
and then he'd go and live somewhere hot.
But his long suffering wife called Flo
said she'd had enough of his silly Bingo
she shouted to Joe so what's it going to be,
your stupid addiction to playing Bingo or me?
But sadly Joe was now too far gone to care
when Bingo was on he just had to be there.
But alas Joe never won the Bingo jackpot
and he never ended living somewhere hot
the most he won was that sixty quid
and even worse Flo went off with his mate Sid.
I heard that Joe passed away playing Bingo
but I know that's how he would have wanted to go
I bet old Joe died with a smile on his face
because at least to Joe he was in the right place!

poem by Kevin Halls
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To Whine Or Not To Whine?

to whine or not to whine?
but first ask,
is there someone there
listening there?
is there someone?
someone?
who knows what
whining is
who knows

someone who
understands
that there is nothing
wrong with
whining?

is there? can his listening
change your world
for the better?
can your whining
do something good
for this, well,
rotten world?

then whine.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Piper That Gets Paid Knows

No one wishes to leave,
Perceptions of weakness.
Especially when financial debts...
Are handled to keep beliefs,
And people deceived...
For purposes to maintain,
A way of life sustained by delusions.
And marketing a plan that is well conceived

With discreet meetings kept secret...
Between those who know,
Who owes what to who.
Regardless of conflicting images,
Of dominance and superiority in public view!
What is due and who pays it...
Only the piper that gets paid,
Knows.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blessed To Be Selected For This Test

My life lived here on Earth,
May be an elaborate experiment...
By those involved,
In the creating of this magnificent delusion.
Created in a scientific laboratory it was not!

And my experiences will be the best.
Whatever the effects I receive to get.
Since 'Whomever'...
Or the 'Who' or the 'What' watching,
Unseen and behind this 'mysticism' I am living...
I want it known I've been blessed to be selected for this test.

Those I hear whining about what the Divine does...
OR believe they can manipulate their way through life,
With a faking of faith but carrying in their hearts hatred...
Are the ones failing with every attempt they try to deny,
A power so great that can eliminate all manmade beliefs.
And grateful I am to be aware of 'something' there...
Besides the worshipping of conflict and ignorance celebrated.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Battle of Nowhere

Look up the sky
Look at the stars
They speak to me
About silent cries

And then the wind
And so the rain
Follow the mean
Foreseen warning

The earth tries still
The birds shake thrill
Listen to the song
Of thousands storm

And then thunder
And so fire
Have a time to reign
Terror of fear

The dice of devil
Count the shadow souls
Play the gamble game
Who first will be foul?

The abyss grins grim
Watching world’s falling
Creatures whining
What worth life gain?

Though the moon goes dim
And cloud within
Remember this thing
Sun in our veins

Though the air is thin
Dawn can’t be seen
I still believe
That light will win

poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unpleasant

Unpleasant for some,
Is a truth that is spoken.
Unpleasant it may be,
For those fantasized with delusions protected.
Although they hide them from being criticized.

Truth is neither negative or positive.
It exists to be just that.
And those unaccustomed,
To know it for what it is.
Will always deny it a visit.
But it will come to sit...
Regardless who finds it to be unpleasant.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Photograph Is Proof

Well, i'll wait till you listen
I wont say a word
to follow your instincts
just never worked for me
your silent but strong, (yeah, I'm playing that card)
and your noticing nothing again
Now I'm lying on the table
with everything you said
keeping mind the way that it felt
when the most I could do was to just blame myself
(yeah, I'm playing that card)
when the most I could do was to just blame myself
and I know you know, everything
I know you didnt mean it
I know you didnt mean it
I know you know, everything (drop everything)
I know you didn't mean it (start it all over)
I know you didn't mean it (remember more then youd like to forget)
So, we're talking forever
and you almost feel better
but, betters no excuse for tonight
you see, it's never bad enough
just to leave or you give up
but, its never good enough to feel right
Now I'm lying on the table
with everything you said
it will all catch up eventually
well, it caught up and honestly
the weight of my decisions
were impossible to hold
but they were never yours
but they were never yours
Well I, know you know, everything
I know you didnt mean it
I know you didnt mean it
I know you know, everything (drop everything)
I know you didn't mean it (start it all over)
I know you didn't meant it (remember more then youd like to forget)
Drop everything, start it all over
remember more then youd like to forget [x2]
Would you like to forget
would you like to forget
drop everything, start it all over
well, drop everything start it all over (would you like to forget)
drop everything start it all over
start it all...
Well I, know you know, everything
I know you didnt mean it
I know you didnt mean it
I know you know, everything (drop everything)
I know you didnt mean it (start it all over)
I know you didnt meant it (remember more then youd like to forget)
I know you know
I know you know...you know, you know, you know...

song performed by by Taking Back Sunday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Economically Speaking

Economically speaking,
It has been the keeping of greed and theft...
That has left a bottomless pitt of debts unpaid.
With an overwhelming creation of fantasies unfaced,
That can be traced to the suffering.

Economically speaking,
People feeding on delusions of loans and credits...
And borrowing on debits,
With interests blamed on threats...
That has left everyone following in the steps,
Generating today's cloud cover of unhappiness.

Smearing truths in denial and refusing to listen,
Leaves unhearing ears...
With thick headed skulls.

And those self righteous,
Hiding behind their mix of faith and bad politics...
Wish to shift their deceit,
On the backs of those...
Carrying the weight,
That enables the thieves to escape scot-free...
From any responsible accountability.

Economically speaking,
It has been the keeping of greed and theft...
That has left a bottomless pitt of debts unpaid.
With an overwhelming creation of fantasies unfaced,
That can be traced to the suffering.
And today's buffering of a smothered reality.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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School Is Not So Cool

School, School, School,
A school is not so cool
We're here 5 days a week
8 hours a day.
School, School, School,
A school is not so cool.
People laugh when we fall
we just have to make a call.
School, School, School
A school is not so cool.
We have to work hard to get good grades
I'm not going to do it no more
I do it everyday.
We cant go on the grass
We cant bother another class
We cant save spots at lunch
We have to go as a bunch.
We have 3 minutes in the hall
I'm always late what a ball.
We have to pay attention
if not we get detention.
School, School, School,
A school is not so cool.
They have to many rules
they play us as fools
if we get A's
the parents jump Hip Hip Hooray.
If we get F's
we tell them we need to take a rest.
We always have homework
we never have classwork
they have to many rules
they need to take it cool.
School, School, School,
A school is so not cool!

poem by Chantel Braatz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hooked And Fantasized

When did the playing of,
Jeopardy.
Truth Or Consequences.
And Wheel Of Fortune...
Become more seriously played,
Than the game of politics?
And 'that' game has effected,
The Days Of Our Lives...
Far greater than any soap opera,
Created...
To keep us all hooked and fantasized,
As if addicted with wishes to remain delusioned.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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all your whining, dear,
all your whining, dear, can not,
can not make a kite.

haiku by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Agitate A Childish Game

Sometimes I am tempted,
To agitate a childish game...
That has been played.
Just to feel and see it done...
To throw it back in someone's face.

But games played like that,
Have long passed their attraction.
Although so many are caught up in them...
With an immaturity that seeks as shown,
An act played like that would offer a satisfaction.

Sometimes I am tempted,
To agitate a childish game...
That has been played.
Just to feel and see it done...
To throw it back in someone's face.

And everyday I witness,
Immature adults with childish minds.
Complaining to others about who they don't like.
With a waste of time whining,
Hoping to 'hook up' with a like mind.

Everyday I seem to witness,
More children who should be adults.
More who have not discovered responsibility.
Or an accountability that brings to them concrete results.

And everyday I witness,
Immature adults with childish minds.
Complaining to others about who they don't like.
With a waste of time whining,
Hoping to 'hook up' with a like mind.

Sometimes I am tempted,
To agitate a childish game...
That has been played.
Just to feel and see it done...
To throw it back in someone's face.

But games played like that,
Have long passed their attraction.
Although so many are caught up in them...
With an immaturity that seeks as shown,
An act played like that would offer a satisfaction.

And as I pass such activities,
I feel blessed to have aged gracefully.
Although I grit my teeth...
Wanting to find a reason and purpose,
To respond to an ignorance...
I do my best,
Not to acknowledge...
With a reaction given that would please.

Thank You, Thank You, Thank You...
Farther.
For the gritting of my teeth,
And the keeping of my peace!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A School Is So Not Cool

School Is Not So Cool

School, School, School,
A school is not cool
We're here 5 days a week
8 hours a day.
School, School, School,
A school is not cool.
People laugh when we fall
we just have to make a call.
School, School, School
A school is not cool.
We have to work hard to get good grades
I'm not going to do it no more
I do it every day.
We can’t go on the grass
We can’t bother another class
We can’t save spots at lunch
We have to go as a bunch.
We have 3 minutes in the hall
I'm always late what a ball.
We have to pay attention
if not we get detention.
School, School, School,
A school is not cool.
They have too many rules
they play us as fools
if we get A's
the parents jump Hip Hip Hooray.
If we get F's
we tell them we need to take a rest.
We always have homework
we never have class work
they have to many rules
they need to take it cool.
School, School, School,
A school is so not cool!

poem by Fahed Sharaf
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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