It Will Still Make Sense
You can read it as it is,
For the rest of your life!
And...
It will still make sense.
If it connects to a meaning meant.
And not condensed...
From the meat of the purpose.
And left as intended.
There is no pretense to delude sentiments.
Or to mask evidence...
Of a truth that defies,
Embellishments used...
To boost the attraction to seduce,
A deception produced with sweetened...
And/or spiced lies.
You can read it as it is,
For the rest of your life!
And...
It will still make sense.
If it connects to a meaning meant.
And not condensed...
From the meat of the purpose.
And left as intended.
It will feed and tease curiosities.
To please a seeking of depth....
Once the foolishness has left!
Go ahead,
Read it as it is...
For the rest of your life.
Let it dust,
And its pages curl.
Put it on a bookshelf...
Or leave it by itself.
To be discovered by someone else.
To treat one's mind to intoxicate,
Much like a fine wine over time!
It will still make sense.
If it connects to a meaning meant.
And not be condensed...
From a purpose that is intended.
There is no pretense to delude sentiments.
Or to mask evidence...
Of a truth that defies,
Embellishments used...
To boost the attraction to seduce,
A deception produced with lies.
It will still make sense.
If it connects to a meaning meant.
And for you reviewed,
Like a treasured document.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Lost As A Treasured Experience
If it was not meant to be taken seriously,
None of it would have been given to be taken
With a purpose to receive,
And comprehend its meaning.
Instead of comprehending the meaning of it,
It has been left to sit
As of its existence is there to provide,
One a uselessness.
And one who has decided,
That all there is to it was to use
Until the nourishment from it was exhausted.
Then an exhaustion from taking it for granted
Leaves.
If
It was not meant to be taken seriously,
What is the purpose for any of it to exist.
Just to please the existing of the unimportance,
To prioritize an increasing toleration of nonsense.
And
If nonsense continues to increase,
The purpose of witnessing any of this
Diminishes in value to be lost as a treasured experience.
Never to have been found worthy of its priceless blessing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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They've Chosen To Be Winners
Picking up those pieces from a running done.
Now taking time when before they gave none.
Less they find offensive too.
With fresh sentiments meant,
They've improved.
Sticking to a purpose with a focused aimed
With minds more open.
And those attitudes changed.
A new day dawning has to them been sent.
To send defensive motives flushed,
With their fluxing minds now rinsed.
And...
They've chosen to be winners!
With those sentiments meant.
Winners.
With those sentiments meant.
Winners.
With those sentiments meant.
To leave behind their indifference.
They have chosen to be winners.
With those sentiments meant.
Winners.
With those sentiments meant.
They're winners.
With those sentiments meant.
To leave behind their indifference.
Picking up those pieces from a running done.
Now taking time when before they gave none.
Less they find offensive too.
With fresh sentiments meant they've improved.
And...
They've chosen to be winners!
With those sentiments meant.
Winners.
With those sentiments meant.
They're winners.
With those sentiments meant.
To leave behind their indifference.
They are winners.
With those sentiments meant.
Winners.
With those sentiments meant.
They're winners.
With those sentiments meant.
To leave behind their indifference.
To now say and to claim that they are...
Winners.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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Love Connects
Love connects us with everyone and everything,
Love bridges our hearts with gratitude,
Our connection with life becomes stronger through feeling,
Love connects us with everyone and everything :)
Love connects us with necessary pain,
Love provides pain to gain awareness,
Our connection to ourselves gets stronger as pain leaves,
Love connects us with necessary pain :)
Love connects us with our passions,
Love encourages self expression and spontaneity,
Our connection to our truth becomes stronger by sharing,
Love connects us with our passions :)
Love connects us with truth always,
Love shares truth to guide us to ourselves,
Our connection becomes stronger as we receive it,
Love connects us with truth always :)
poem by Paul Jensen Jr

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Clear As Its Ever Been
I remember all your sentiments protesting.
All my simple needs and with requests met.
Now the evidence is clear,
As its ever been...
You never meant to keep my requests met.
You never intended that respect.
I remember all your sentiments protesting.
All my simple needs and with requests met.
Now the evidence is clear,
As its ever been...
You never meant to keep my requests met.
You never intended that respect.
The evidence is clear,
As its ever been...
You never meant to keep my requests met.
No...
You never intended that respect.
It's clear...
As its ever been,
You never meant to keep my requests met.
It's clear....
You never intended that respect.
It's clear...
As its ever been,
You never meant to keep my requests met.
It's clear....
You never intended that respect.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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Depict This Different
Depict this different,
From the others sent.
This one has meaning.
With some evidence in it.
Depict this different.
Pick off the lint.
Wrap this around your mind,
Feel the warmth in it meant.
Depict this different,
From the others sent.
This one has meaning.
With some evidence in it.
Thaw the cold you hold in your heart.
Depict this different.
And don't let a freezing,
In you start.
Depict it!
Rub and cuddle up.
Depict it.
With purpose and a reason.
Appreciate each season,
With a new breath to breathe.
Depict this different,
From the others sent.
This one has meaning.
With some evidence in it.
Depict this different.
You can depict this different.
Depict this different.
You can depict this different.
Rub and cuddle up.
Depict it.
Pleased as a breeze.
Depict it.
Give your troubles up.
Depict it.
And be free.
Depict it.
Don't give them any hints,
Your mind's at ease.
Depict this different,
From the others sent.
This one has meaning.
With some evidence in it.
Depict this different.
Pick off the lint.
Wrap this around your mind,
Feel the warmth in it meant.
Depict this different.
You can depict this different.
Depict this different.
You can depict this different.
You can depict this different.
You can depict this different.
You can depict this different.
Depict this different.
Feel free.
To depict this different.
Feel free.
Depict this different.
Feel free.
To depict this different.
Feel free.
Depict this different!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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Something Else Unstated
What is it that one 'should' expect to accept?
That which is told and thought to be correct.
Or another version of it,
To then be told what was first said and heard...
One should forget since it was not meant,
To be intended to be interpreted...
For anyone to take seriously.
'Then why say these things at all?
What is the purpose? '
~Today?
I've learned not to analyze one's intentions.
Or the depths of their honesty or purpose,
To avert away from it.
It has become too easy for anyone,
To change what they initially say...
For something else unstated,
They claim to have meant.~
'Why bother to make attempts,
To have a meaningful conversation? '
~How can that be done?
When people have not experienced,
The benefit or purpose of having one.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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A Theory About The Absence Of The Divine...
in the end
in trying to figure out the sense of meaning
pouring out
taking in
decanting, filtering,
testing, considering each
detail with
significance
one still cannot accept that
all these data
never make sense
at all
one hopes
nothing comes at random
the chances boils down
to a specific purpose
such a hardheadedness
against the wall
breaking one's head like
an eggshell
nuts!
the premise should have been
in the beginning life has no meaning
man creates his own image
shapes his own future
and out of respect of man's will
God is no longer
there
like Papa
watching his son soldier
leaving him all alone now
to fight his
own war
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Before They Choose
People know those mixed signals sent.
And what is meant intended.
People want first to tease before they choose.
People know those mixed signals sent.
And what is meant intended.
People want first to tease before they choose,
To refuse.
Giving one the eye to quickly hide!
People know those mixed signals sent.
And what is meant intended.
Scouting for a prey,
To play.
And...
People want first to tease before they choose.
People know those mixed signals sent.
And what is meant intended.
People want first to tease before they choose,
To refuse.
And...
Do.
People know those mixed signals sent.
And what is meant intended.
People want first to tease before they choose.
People know those mixed signals sent.
And what is meant intended.
People want first to tease before they choose,
To refuse.
And...
Do.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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I Am Writing A Poem That You Can Understand So Easily
this is not to insult your intelligence
or your sensibility
your capacity for managing angst,
to see the wholeness
of the matter
in the eye of the needle
where the camel enters where you claim you have seen it,
this, this is it, the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog near the bank of the riverthe quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog near the bank of the riverthe quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog near the bank of the riverthe quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog near the bank of the river the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog near the bank of the riverthe quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog near the bank of the riverthe quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog near the bank of the riverthe quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog near the bank of the river
do you not find wisdom in it, it is filled with questions to be answered:
why is the fox quick
why is it brown? why does it jump on a lazy dog? and is the dog really lazy? is this not offensive to the dogs in the royalty? and why should the river be near? and this bank of the river? is this where the dog lives? or the fox or the dog, do they relate to the word quick and lazy?
i tell you, there is wisdom in every word, no matter where you place it.
every verb serves its purpose in giving us action,
every question calls for an answer
and every period serves the purpose it is intended to be.
rest.
the purpose of an easy poem is to understand it, and so the poem is written in the most familiar language that you know and speak,
period.
i don't want to understand things really, there is no point there.
period.
some poems are not meant to be understood, they are only meant to be read.
period.
some poems are not meant to be digested, they are meant to make
us full, even only for a while.
period.
some poems are written by Someone Else, and this writer does not
even understand it.
period.
rest.......
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Up For The Challenge
Up for the challenge,
And wearing brand new boots.
Up for the challenge.
I've got something to prove!
If I win or lose.
Depictions make no sense.
Whether intended,
Or made by accident.
Up for the challenge,
And wearing brand new boots.
Up for the challenge.
I've got something to prove!
If I win or lose.
Someone others thought a fool,
Maybe one who someday rules!
Some have no purpose but to fly at night like bats.
Some have no purpose but to chitter chat in packs.
Some have no purpose but to stir up tit for tats...
And,
Be petty like that.
'Cause...
That is where their minds are at!
Up for the challenge.
And I know that I can manage it!
Up for the challenge,
And wearing brand new boots.
Up for the challenge,
'Cause I've got something to prove.
Depictions make no sense.
Whether intended,
Or made by accident.
But I admit I get incensed,
When no one but me pays my rent!
'Oh? '
No 'Oh'.
Some have no purpose but to fly at night like bats.
And...
Some have no purpose but to chitter chat in packs.
And...
Some have no purpose but to stir up tit for tats.
And...
Be petty like that,
'Cause...
That is where their minds are at!
Up for the challenge.
And I know that I can manage it!
'Oh? '
Up for the challenge.
And I know that I can manage it.
Up for the challenge,
And no doubts are taking space up...
In my mind!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Is Poetry?
A language of the heart
Its touch of words immense!
The emotions it imparts
Bears truth, or some pretense.
However read, it connects
With a message there to show.
Of myriad thoughts or objects,
In poetic lines they flow.
I have no vain expertise
I just love Poetry with passion,
And my words may be amiss
But purpose there finds fruition.
Yes, anyone can dance
To the tune of Poetry!
Inspired, find there romance
Or friendship and harmony.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello

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Empowered
Do you read and leave,
Without feeling the content?
Do you receive the message...
That is left and meant?
Do you sit and contemplate,
What it is that is said?
Does anything stay connected...
In your head to reflect.
Every word selected has a purpose,
To affect.
Those emotions hidden deep.
To respect...
Not neglect.
Each of us are directed,
To use this gift we have to touch.
And if it is protected in honesty...
The delivery exposes an effectiveness,
The receiver can not reject.
Do you read and leave,
Without feeling the content?
Do you receive the message...
That is left and meant?
The you have become empowered!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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With Me (song I Wrote)
I’m done with the pain (with the pain)
I’m done with the lies (with the lies)
I’m done with every thing
Baby you’re not meant to be
I hurt me self
Every day
When you left me…
All the heart aches
All the tears
Wasn’t worth you (no my dear)
I’m done with the pain (with the pain)
I’m done with the lies (with the lies)
I’m done with every thing
Baby you’re not meant to be
All the lies
I told my self
To keep me hanging on
Only hurt me more
Killed me inside
I bet you wont care
I’m done with the pain (with the pain)
I’m done with the lies (with the lies)
I’m done with every thing
Baby you’re not meant to be
You kill me
With every word
Every word you speak
Every word I read
That you say and send to me
It kills me
I’m done with the pain (with the pain)
I’m done with the lies (with the lies)
I’m done with every thing
Baby you’re not meant to be (with me)
X2
Baby you’re not meant to be
You’re not meant to be
Baby you’re not meant to be
With me…
poem by Jade Moore

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Justified and Obstinate
Justified and obstinate,
May make sense and provides...
Much more meaning to those,
Who have decided to divide a purpose cemented.
By circumventing a direction meant to unify.
Splitting into pieces a togetherness solidified,
Gratifies an intense excitement...
For those enjoying the ride of frustrations.
Although this decreased of priority ceases.
With an eroding that rapidly diminishes,
Communal concern.
Leaving many temperatures to overheat.
And negative agendas effectively burned!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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Meaning
The meaning of life
Is truly unimportant.
Finding the answers
Will not remedy sorrows
Or relieve distress.
It will not give us insight
Or greater purpose.
If anything, that meaning
Will just make us more confused.
Note: According to Webster's Dictionary circa 2009, the meaning of life is: 'A state after birth that precedes death.'
poem by Tim Stensloff

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Amused He May Be
One can not destroy truth.
Some attempt to diminish its effectiveness...
With the hopes that fresh lies told,
Will overwhelm truth.
And make it go away!
With repeated creative embellishments.
To convince with gained attention meant.
Telling a lie,
Eventually...
Is something one wished not done.
Especially when God gets involved!
To solve confusions.
Giving those who tell them...
Those adorning them fast to mask...
Every opportunity to correct themselves.
Yet,
Liars who say they believe in God...
Looked surprised and shocked,
By the consequences God makes them pay...
For believing this 'Deity' is just referenced,
In a book!
With scriptures to read and to say.
If God can make a tree...
Do not believe lies coming from lips,
Are not heard!
Even from those professing themselves...
With the best of self righteousness.
As if they become protected...
Behind quotes and verses learned.
Yet folks will get on their knees,
To beg for gifts, forgiveness...
And wishes to come true.
As if God does not punish!
But follows through like a Santa Claus.
Exhausted from midnight deliveries!
I've been made to awaken from my unconciousness.
Dazed but saved from my self centered insanity.
Read those Bibles folks!
God has commanded total cities to be destroyed...
If He is not loved first and obeyed.
God can become crazed with jealousy!
He has already warned...
'Do 'NOT' worship any God before Me! '
And you can pray as much as you want.
However...
The Master is not on the side of deceivers.
Amused He may be!
But not one bit pleased!
And God has left evidence.
Sent messengers.
Brought some close to death.
Tried to shock some to mend their ways.
Taken away their gifts He has delivered.
And had them screaming in pain and grief.
Yet still many do not accept...
These acts are the creations of God!
They would love to believe,
This Deity approves their deceptions.
However...
Those are the limitations,
Use by those demonized...
To inflict wickedness for thrills.
And even those addicted to 'crack'...
Know there is nothing thrilling,
About a slow death one does not expect.
Or accept...
When a punishment is administered.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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Igniting With a Fresh Incentive
The thing I enjoy most about writing...
Is the focus of intended content.
I may believe my creation heads one way.
With imagery I select.
Then someone decides,
What my thought process 'really'is.
And concludes my purpose is deeper,
Than my intended one meant.
With a dissecting of my original intention...
And an imposition of their own sentiments.
Am I not the writer?
Don't I have creative license?
Or at least be given the benefit of a doubt,
There is a 'root' of truth I do write about.
I 'use' to get bewildered about this!
But not anymore.
I submit my writings and patiently sit.
Reading comments from readers who 'insist'...
Upon probing further,
With 'their' interesting deepness.
Which then feeds my inspiration,
With an innovativeness that motivates...
A spark igniting with a fresh incentive.
Yes,
God does work in mysterious ways.
And in my case...
I hope this mysteriousness stays.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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A Request To Use The Hubble
I wonder if it is possible,
That I could make a request...
To use the Hubble?
And have it not be considered,
An act of good natured vanity.
'The hubble?
What are you talking about?
What is a 'hubble'?
The telescope!
Hubble Telescope.
The one used by scientists,
To locate something in the universe...
Light years away!
'For what purpose?
IF that was possible? '
I've read something by a poet,
That was so far above my head...
My binoculars,
Can not detect the meaning.
That's how far out,
The message is.
It is in a place and time...
That will take millions of years,
To comprehend the sense of it!
And I have a need to locate,
The mind that has created this.
'For what purpose?
IF that was possible? '
'Something' COSMIC is attached,
To the mind of this poet.
And other poets have yet to know it.
And I suspect,
A digesting done comes from dimensions...
No one but that poet can detect.
And I'd like to give it a try.
'Are you pulling my leg? '
Now why would I want to do that?
Are you now implying I am a magician?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Point Is This You Are Attempting To Make?
Yes...
I said what I said and I meant it.
Just as it sounded as if intended.
'Even though you offended,
With an insensitivity? '
What are you seeking?
An apology that excuses my comments.
To then deny,
I was not conscious?
Yes...
I said what I said and I meant it.
Just as it sounded as if intended.
'But, you are running for public office.
To represent 'all' of the people.'
And what point is this you are attempting to make?
That I should hide my biased opinions to get votes?
'Well...
Kind of.
Or at least pretend.'
That would be like cheating on a spouse.
Or playing cat and mouse.
I think those people who were offended,
Need to get over themselves.
And awaken to have reality revealed.
I said what I said and that's how I feel.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Is...?
What is the meaning of hate?
Is it the dislike of someone different than you?
Or is it the loathing of something simple like broccoli?
What is the meaning of discrimination?
Is it the hatred of someone of a different background?
The hatred of skin color;
Or is it the bitter taste of being different from everyone else?
What is the meaning of uniqueness?
Is it the purpose of being odd and unusual?
The adaptation to your own life and style;
Or is it the stereotypical clan that society has put you?
What is the meaning of life?
Is it that time keeps moving; leaving us in the dust is leaves behind?
The endless stream of consciousness that everything has;
Or is it the meaningless and indefinable thing we give every day?
What is the meaning of death?
Is it that grim reaper knocking at your door?
The inky blackness of nothing;
Or is it something that can’t be defined only experienced when it is time?
Many questions are asked everyday without even meaning to ask them.
They are hidden within the minds of those who are too afraid to speak out;
To let THEIR voices be heard.
So I ask you these questions in hope that you will ask them yourself;
To find the meaning of it for yourself and not what others say it is.
One final question is all I leave you with.
What is the meaning of everything that you thought you knew?
poem by Regan Meade

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