It Does Not Matter What Schools They Attend
Witness the immaturity.
Soon you will discover...
Wisdom and the aging process,
Do not neccessarily go hand in hand.
Jerks are nurtured to be fools.
And it does not matter what schools they attend.
Those that become wisened in time...
Can be seen anywhere,
Being dragged through mud.
As they are laughed and joked about.
And they are also the ones,
To provide interesting conversations no one ignores.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Witnessing As I Live
I have never before been given the opportunity,
To rehearse the process of aging.
Some would have others believe,
They are gifted with the expertise.
And already know what it is like.
I don't.
I am witnessing as I live my life...
With a wisdom I have never known.
And mysterious aches I feel in my bones,
As if done to remind me...
'Something' seeks attention and wishes it shown.
I have never before been given the opportunity,
To rehearse the process of aging.
But I must admit,
The process is interesting.
Although...
Being around those who announce their pains,
Is more aggravating than anything else.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Having Wisdom
Having wisdom should enlighten,
But sometimes it can frighten.
Especially when its expected,
Those of age should reflect it.
But they don't.
A disproportionate of those shallow...
Can be callous with a callowness expressed.
Believing an aging process,
Delivers them out of an immaturity that is further digressed.
Yes...
Having wisdom should enlighten.
Having it should produce the brightest moments,
Of our days.
Yet it seems that having wisdom does not mean...
An extension of it shared is not declared,
But the thought of it demeans.
And that is troubling today,
When so many escapes from it are seen!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Your Visit With Aging
I don't know why,
You believed I was older than you.
I use to be.
But you and aging have become much closer.
And it seems as if you have been convinced,
To interpret every year you have lived as a struggle.
I'm not trying to interpret my life that way at all.
When aging came to visit me,
I told it to make itself at home.
And if I choose to do what I please...
I'm not making an effort to be rude.
But neither am I going to sit with it to reminisced,
The good old days.
Too much everyday for me is new!
And...
I didn't feel I had to excuse myself from it to explore.
I just do.
You on the other hand...
Seem to want to impress aging,
As a depiction you believe is an acceptable process.
Hey,
We all have our interpretations.
However...
Yours appears to be a bit exaggerated.
But I aint mad at you!
What your visit with aging is like.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A True Friend
He laughed and I laughed with him,
He joked and I joked too,
He smiled and took away despair,
And with it, the doldrums flew.
He raised my spirits upwards,
And left no dread behind,
He was the perfect anecdote,
He was so sweet and kind.
The heart can become heavy,
With all the pressures found,
And when this starts to happen,
You need him to be around.
We all need some uplifting,
We all need light relief,
If one can do this for someone,
It's a gift beyond belief.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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My Other Hand...
the black man's hand,
the poor man's hand.
the Muslim hand, the Jewish hand...
the gay man's hand,
the working man's hand,
the ex-convict's hand,
the farmer's hand, the garbage man's hand...
the Christian's hand, the atheist's hand,
the father's hand, the soldier's hand,
the peacemaker's hand,
the healer's hand, the teacher's hand,
the prodigal's hand, even the murderer's hand...
the victim's hand, the broken hand,
the praying hand, the touching hand...
all, when extended,
feel like my other hand!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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My First Time Being Here
The experience of aging
Is a process many fight.
Some act as if it's not a gift...
To grow older with delight.
I'm often asked how it feels,
To be an age I don't appear.
I tell them it's my first time doing it...
It's my first time being here!
And if I knew I should feel a certain way,
Nothing in my past prepared me for this day!
It's all new to me...
I have no clue how I should be.
Nor do I look in the mirror with fears,
To chase away!
('That depends on HOW I'm looking')
It's clear I'm aging,
With a grace I accept!
And blessed I feel everyday!
No one I know will be here forever...
No matter what's done to stay!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Noticeably Aging School Yard Game
There comes a time in one's life,
No matter how they were raised...
And who wasn't there to attend their graduations.
That a placing fault and blame on someone else,
Becomes a noticeably aging school yard game.
Even to those children presently in elementary school.
Conversations based on consentual sex,
And baiting hatred between races...
Just to avoid things they way they are,
To feed an encouragement of more conflicts...
Is a sign of minds out of time and function.
And an observation of this is not a wish but in existence.
People have flipped out of their minds.
And it may be contributed to their diets.
Or a lack of daily exercise.
But whatever it is this can not be dismissed for what it is,
No one is in a position to accuse someone else,
Of being envious of their standards or lifestyles.
To say many people known,
Are already left alone...
In their own ineptness,
Is not a threat.
Nor is it a warning.
It is reality to others shown who see it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Masked Behind The Masses
Aging does not guarantee,
A wisdom and knowledge follows.
Look around.
How many fools can be spotted,
Dropping chaos without a stop?
Or finding explanations for ignorance expressed?
To create more mayhem in a diplomatic mess.
Receiving certifications for 'higher' learning...
Promoting fools to rule and direct.
Suppressing freedoms,
Only the privileged share and express.
Examining colors of skin...
As they disease themselves with sexual sins?
Ruining nature to advance wickedness...
Impressed with greed,
And other needless satisfactions fed.
Left prioritized to address,
After ceremonies of those sent to their deaths.
Destroying lives with scientific ineptness.
Perfecting weapons with barbaric heartessness,
To protect interests of theirs and not the rest.
Affecting with less understanding...
That infect with more accepting divisions laid,
Branded with pointless decisions made...
In confessions that brings no one a mind upgrade,
With a salvation on the horizon that saves.
And we can say this is the way to advance?
To enhance what?
The thrill of witnessing exposed guts?
While more of this sits in preparation to afflict...
In an unresisted twistedness,
Unfolding to unleash much regret.
And a forgotten peace distanced in neglect.
Aging does not guarantee,
Wisdom and knowledge follows.
Look around.
We have been conditioned,
To accept clowns wear painted faces!
However...
This 'circus' that has been employed,
To spread cheer enjoyed.
Is masked behind the masses,
Continuing to grow much annoyed!
Aging does not guarantee,
Wisdom and knowledge follows.
Look around.
Even the ground we thought once sacred,
To provide and feed our needs...
Bleeds with toxic waste!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hand-Me-Down!
got my hand-me-down boots,
and my hand-me-down jeans.
my broke down hand-me-down hat,
doing hand-me-down things.
my hand-me-down fire,
and my hand-me-down pot.
take a hand-me-down chair,
i'll share what i've got.
got some hand-me-down thoughts,
a couple of hand-me-down songs.
i've got a hand-me-down heart
that wont leave you alone.
we'll talk about hand-me-down freedom,
and hand-me-down truth....
in this hand-me-down world,
it's just me and you!
in this hand-me-down world....
paying hand-me-down dues!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Fools haven 2
Fools haven
This is fools haven
All they do is to fool
When their belly is full
Be careful you fool
For nobody knows tomorrow
Learn the steps
Of the wise and follow
The life of the fool
Is like a that of a drunkard
He is happy on the morning
But in the evening a disgrace
For he ignores wisdom
And foolishness does he embrace
Like food
When it passes through the throat
It is of no use
But the life the wise
Is like a hidden treasure
Which is a mystery to fools
But it legend known to kings
poem by Matt Ancient
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Virtue Vs Evil
Wherever you are wherever you go
I will go with you hand in hand
A faltered state of agony and lust
I will go with you hand in hand
Vying for the amelioration of offspring
I will go with you hand in hand
Injecting an age-long flight from right
I will go with you hand in hand
The endearment of wealth and spendthrift
I will go with you hand in hand
Wherever is the wretched face of human lure
I will go with you hand in hand
The pitfall of human lot has waged a spiritual war
I will go with you hand in hand
poem by Hafiz Qasim
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Dictation Done
If there is anything experience teaches,
To those who have gone through that process...
With a final acceptance of lessons taught,
Is this...
No matter where one goes with an experienced life,
Achieved through the benefit of failure...
Sometimes repeated.
And lessons learned that have been taught.
Those who seek comprehension,
Will never find time to be bored.
And will one day discover their observations,
Are the ones that are eagerly sought!
Since so many others seem to be awaiting...
A school bell to ring and an announcement made,
That a thought one initiates should soon begin!
With a dictation done that has nothing to do,
To provide one with the tools to use common sense!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tight Thigh Holders Strapped to Stomach Wraps
One 'chronologically' aging,
In years that clearly appear.
With a slow pacing done.
And the carrying of aches and pains...
As the usual 'identifying' suspects.
Reveals no aspects of an acceptance yet.
And the effects of this...
Has not yet affected a reflected maturity.
None to speak of nor that is obvious.
An awaiting presence of it will not surprise...
In an overnight appearance.
Or come in disguise as an adult,
With wisdom seen in experienced eyes.
Experience, adulthood and maturity...
Sometimes are in conflict.
Many on the threshold of chronologically aging,
With that rapid sagging muscle look...
Are in denial about the process.
And seek to have time stand still...
By displays of irresponsibility.
With needs of centerstage attention.
And praise accompanied by accolades.
'Don't you like attention,
No matter how old you are? '
~Sure.
But I don't crave it.
I just know how and when to get it.
That's the difference.
Some folks 'whine'.
But I don't need to do that to get mine.
I like to think my tactics have been refined.
Without the need for ointments, braces...
Or tight thigh holders strapped to stomach wraps.
Thank God I am still naturally attractive! !
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Hand
only the human hand,
the caring hand,
the hand covered in blood
and filth, the hand swollen
bruised, and beaten...
the open hand,
not a fist anymore hand,
not afraid to let go hand,
never letting go hand...
feed the baby, plow the field hand,
stroke the face of
the old woman dying hand...
light the fires, sweep the floors hand...
the praying hand, the picking hand,
the paint the soul hand...
only the human hand
can touch with the heart of God!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Stages
First of all...
I know it's not just all about me.
Only in my mind I am told.
And that seems to be aging rapidly!
As a glowing youth...
Dims to be conquered,
By an aging truth!
Overnight it seems.
Although many may refuse to agree with me.
Those into appearances and physicalities!
I am not one to be talking about looks...
But let me say this,
No pages flipped through books
Prepares anyone for the stages of aging.
Or when to apply a night cheek lift!
To become disappointed with the results,
That sit unresisting to stay for a long visit!
Compliments on maintaining a youthfulness,
Stirs those in doubt about what is really meant...
By those unsolicited comments sent!
But pleased to get them without resentment.
There are those who may defy this process.
But when it noticibly starts...
A feeling of achievement begins to arrive,
Or a time gone by so quickly is realized!
Which gets many into denial fits!
Horrified that the time has come...
And that they too can not escape from this!
When a passing glance in a mirror,
Becomes a lingering stare...
What is seen is obvious.
And we all must become aware...
An aging has taken place,
To stay on one's face...
Not to go anywhere,
But to etch and trace.
Hopefully some allow...
And undergo with grace.
That's the reality of these stages we go through!
At least 'some' do.
The ones who are not moisturizing...
To rid a wrinkle,
Or two.
OR...
Those of us who make a fuss,
About a delayed aging process ordered...
Taking too long to come and is much overdue!
A special delivery was paid to insure a rush!
To subdue those lines that accrue...
With the stages of age some welcome unphased!
Praying this amazement of a quick aging,
Fades away!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Maybe Not Today But When That Medication Fades
I use to feel so bad about it.
I use to get so mad and doubt it.
When conversations turned to age.
And who had looks they thought would stay.
I use to feel so bad about it.
I use to feel so mad and doubt it!
When conversations turned to age.
And who had looks they thought would stay!
Right now,
I'm a little proactive than the rest.
Right now,
When I walk outside I'm there to exercise...
With a steadied pacing of determined steps.
And right now chronologically,
Nobody's getting younger.
And even those stunning....
Will see a Sunset,
On their youthfulness.
And an aging seems to creep up on the 'stunning ones'.
Maybe not today but when that medication fades.
They wish to run through life as if it's nothing BUT fun.
Maybe another day they will wish they didn't...
When that medication fades.
Putting off tomorrow what today should be done!
Maybe not today but when that medication fades.
And they will someday gratefully pray.
Maybe not today but when that medication fades.
I use to feel so bad about it.
I use to get so mad and doubt it.
When conversations turned to age.
And who had looks they thought would stay.
And an aging seems to creep up on the 'stunning ones'.
Maybe not today but when that medication fades.
They wish to run through life as if it's nothing BUT fun.
To leave everything around them undone!
And they will someday gratefully pray.
Maybe not today but when that medication fades.
And they will someday rest and not have hourly played!
Maybe not today but when that medication fades.
And they will learn to disobey doesn't really pay.
To wake up in resentment with time gone and spent! !
Maybe not today but when that medication fades.
And they will learn one day to disobey doesn't pay.
Maybe not today but when that medication fades.
Maybe not today but when that medication fades.
Maybe not today but when that medication fades.
Maybe not today but when that medication fades.
To wake up in resentment with time gone and spent! !
And this is a waste nobody has to witness!
But...
Maybe not today but when that medication fades.
But...
Maybe not today but when that medication fades.
But...
Maybe not today but when that medication fades.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Into Plastic Surgery. Not Aluminum Siding
If you...
Like so many,
Who are observed monitoring their aging process...
Seek to recapture a youth rejuvenated.
With a glow that defies microscoped closeups.
Showing supple, flawless and crow feet free facial skin...
Here is a suggestion,
Forget it!
When a certain age has been reached...
Those crow feet may be prevented from dancing.
With steps etched that are directed by Father time.
However...
It's Mother Nature who is not fooled.
And those legitimately embracing the noon of youth...
Are not fooled either.
And...
The consulting plastic surgeon,
You have selected to choose...
Knows a few sessions of flattery should do it.
Promising to remove thirty years off of your appearance,
Should do the trick!
'Thirty years?
That's incredible.
NO WAY? '
~Oh...
Much WAY!
If you've got deep pockets...
I'll provide the way.
'Mos Def'.~
'To look 40 again,
Would be a God send.'
~I can have you feeling 39 for at least 3 years! ~
'Why 3?
What about those other years? '
~Those other years?
By the time you realize those 'golden years' have arrived...
Your foolishness should be,
By then...
Assisting you to have more serious conversations with God.~
'But...
But,
What about my investment? '
~What about it?
I'm into plastic surgery.
Not aluminum siding! ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hand I Offer
the hand i offer,
the hand of peace.
the caring hand,
the giving hand,
the get dirty hand,
the pull you up hand,
the work with you hand,
walk beside you hand,
the companion hand,
the communion hand....
the hand i offer,
....without conditions!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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To Seek New Lows
Those who wish with you,
To seek new lows.
With a disrespect...
That sinks deeper into neglect,
Of one's integrity.
Let these folks go.
Unless a willingness to be dragged,
Through the mud and laughed at...
Is a desired goal.
Some people can get too familiar,
With what they believe another should accept.
As a means of a closeness to be given one gets.
Let these folks go.
Unless a willingness to be dragged,
Through the mud and laughed at...
Is a desired goal.
Who knows?
There are those who call this behavioral nonsense,
Friendship.
'Uh...
I'm gonna have to find,
Another way to occupy my time.
'Cause you don't know me like that!
Nor will I allow this sleaze appeal,
To get any deeper to offend in a new dimension.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hand I Hold
The hand I hold
is the hand of love
when people see me anywhere.
The hand that steadies me
when storm clouds appear.
The hand that wipes away
the tears I want to hide.
The hand I hold
is the hand of love
tender soft and warm.
The hand that mends
and helps time heal
any wanton sore.
The hand that comforts
when tragedies come to pass.
The hand I hold
is the hand of love
and will be with me
until the day I die.
29 January 2011
poem by David Harris
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