It's a Must
It's a must for them to win,
This disaster that they have wrought.
Creators of tremendous sins...
With an egomania they have taught.
They have done their best to infest and disfigure.
And followers they have led,
Straight down the tubes...
Without a twitch or a twitter!
It's a must for them to ensure a quick infliction...
Supporting the last of their deeds,
Incites a civil chaotic fight.
So they can yell out, 'Marshal Law'!
Take the goods and run!
Like the scumbags they've become.
Those who disobey rules and laws,
Have one objective...
To inject into everyone a treason done!
It's a must for them to win,
This mental game they've played!
A must to show folks are threatened....
To keep unconscious eyes off of them,
In a downcast and turned away.
It's a must to spread distrust,
Among the people degraded to filth and lust.
It's a must for them to do this...
In the name of God!
'These demons will not give up! '
Even when a resistence to them...
Has begun them to begin the beguine!
In Martinique or Saint Lucia...
Wherever they are seen rejoicing.
But no rumba began in victory,
Is going to end...
With a rhythm or a collective smile they bare!
No grin will be shown on these faces of grim deceivers.
And these creatures who created tremendous sins...
Will be exposed.
And an elimination of those who are just like them,
Will find that they've won...
An onslaught of their backroom shaded failings.
And details revealed of their demonic ways!
Will end an addiction to their demented tastes.
It's a must these days...
To open eyes from such blatant disguises.
It's a must to lift as many dragging butts,
Up off the ground!
Shocked...
But why are so many surprised?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Oldest Game Played
The oldest game played,
Is coming to an end.
And those who have played it,
Are being exposed for perpetuating them.
Initiating disturbances,
And claiming to be victimized...
Is decreasing in its effectiveness.
People finally are opening their eyes.
The oldest game played,
Is coming to an end.
And those who have played it,
Are being exposed for perpetuating them.
They begin with pretense to befriend someone.
Like the smile of a demon,
To ensure its welcome.
And then to make claims...
Of something despicable the innocent one has done,
To then defame and assassinate good character...
With a perception that success,
Is soon to be won!
The oldest game played,
Is coming to an end.
And those who have played it,
Are being exposed for perpetuating them.
Those 'Woe is me I don't know what happened' facades...
Are being stripped away for what they are.
Those who deceive and lie,
With pity party invitations...
Have devastated friendships and relationships,
Behind masqueraded false faces.
The oldest game played,
Is coming to an end.
And those who have played it,
Are being exposed for perpetuating them.
'Why would they lie like that?
Deceive and create conflict? '
~What is it that you have they might perceive,
As a value to them? ~
'Well...
Nothing I haven't with them shared.'
~They did not want it shared!
They wanted it theirs.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Limitations of Tranquility
You have to give some folks much love.
If you have it and it's known...
Share it with those in need.
Especially those who feed on myths.
Trying their best to fit in...
A history they affix to a reality
That has been tricked and rewritten!
You have to give some folks much love.
If you have it and it's known...
Some people can not accept,
Their ancestors were thieves and heathens.
Who worshipped their sins in dens of evil.
And now they pay for these medieval deeds!
You have to give some folks much love.
If you have it and it's known.
It is shown they have an absence of this.
Their entire existence has them betwixt...
Having an intelligence that sits
Within borders of treason!
They can not reason.
They accept others outside of their barricades,
As odd and below façades they've made.
They have no idea,
They bring fear amongst themselves!
To endear conflict they instill to thrive to prosper.
And deluded with limitations of tranquility.
That has weakened a peace...
From those they spend in frustrations to conquer.
You have to give some folks much love.
If you have it and it's known.
They do not know it.
This has never to them been shown!
They are descendents of war!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Our Sins
Our sins are leading us away from the truth!
Our sins are causing all the troubles in this world,
Our sins are bringing about all these wars around us,
Our sins have torn us apart from love! !
And, we now hate each other in this world.
Glabal warming! !
And, it is all because of our sins;
Our sins have really destroyed everything around us.
Just watch the news!
Just listen to your neihbour!
Just look around you!
Just see how much hatred is being expressed among us!
Our sins have torn us apart from love.
Scenes, sins!
Of the scenes of life full of many troubles;
All in the name of our sins.
The Creator, whose Original Name is Yahweh,
Created us all with true love in many colours;
But, our sins have led us to hate each other on this earth.
Famine, disaster, sickness, accident, drought!
And all the global warming seen around us;
Are all caused by our sins because,
We failed to follow the Laws of Yahweh.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Paving Roads Of Negativity
Naysayers have begun to lose,
Their influential ways of paving roads of negativity.
More people begin to see,
Evil inflicted intentionally on the decrease.
And the truth of those who have done good deeds,
Are witnessed to be surviviing...
From the smothering activities of those who had deceived.
Naysayers have begun to lose,
Their influential ways of paving negativity.
And their portrayals of themselves as victims in distress,
Have exposed their treachery once a tool used successfully...
No longer can hide,
Their mental and physical crippling pains.
Shown to be repayment for their evil claims now upon them aimed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Creators of Heartbreak
Creators of heartbreak.
Souless creatures,
Of wasted animation.
And living to strike with venom.
With slit snake eyes,
To victimize at random.
Your flickering light dims.
To live tormented in eternal heat.
With no peace to come,
To your released spirit at all.
Haunted by your deeds.
With no relief to quench,
Your screaming silenced calls.
Creators of heartbreak.
Souless creatures,
Of wasted animation.
Quickly comes your shortened days.
Upon your heartlessness evil preys.
Creators of heartbreak,
Your ways...
Slithers to an end.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Game Players of America
The game players of America,
Are first bred in our neighborhoods.
They are conditioned to be gangsters,
Crooks and hoodlums.
And put on trial for their criminal denials.
The game players of America,
Are taught to deceive, lie and cheat.
Hussel stolen goods on urban streets.
Go to some church to pray and sing.
And on Wednesdays study Bible verse...
To enable them to be forgiven,
For the sins upon themselves they bring.
The game players of America,
Are part Hollywood mixed with truth.
Part naïve, innocent and uncouth.
And mentally driven to anything falsified that shines.
Conditioned with materialistic mindsets.
And quick to claim what is theirs...
With a factor that begins,
With a carelessness most times.
The game players of America,
Can be said to be thoughtless, rude and self indulgent.
But if they are not into the game to win...
Losing for them,
Becomes a taxpayers involvement.
And high are taxes found,
In cities or towns...
Where they are not known to go down!
Like the blood that's shed and spread on the ground.
However...
Rose colored glasses,
Are on the eyes of everyone.
Distributed free at birth!
And religiously worn.
Whether folks are conducting daily business...
Or hiding behind them hypocritically in some church!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Die Hard Ignorites
So accustomed they were,
To ruining the lives of the doers.
With the making of false claims.
And doing their best,
To dismantle goals of good deeds...
And achievable gains to aim.
They the people grew to know no shame at all...
Or have no concern about their future.
These folks were die hard ignorites!
With a teaching done that taught them,
To fight amongst themselves.
And that was done with tremendous success.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Removing Discomfort Away From Happiness
When the death of taxes comes...
That's when a unity can begin,
And all troubles on Earth will end.
Someone created a way to pay for life.
Taking it and charging one to breathe.
Feeding on it with immoral greed!
And telling people on their lands to leave!
When humanity begins to show...
You'll see it in the eyes of your neighbor.
You'll begin to rush home to savor,
Time with friends and those of them!
Accepting different cultures regardless of skin.
When everything right ends any sins that begin!
Only then can it be said,
Evilness on Earth instead will end!
Removing discomfort away from happiness...
And watching frowns on sad faces grin!
That's when everyone can rejoice and sing,
With a freedom caring less about...
Just about 'things'!
Delighted with stock market counts,
And the sound of cash register rings!
Releasing minds from the urge to bite,
Borrow, steal and sting!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Give A Little Bit Of Smile
Friends of the universe
I welcome you all
To the world of sunshine and laughter
Theres so much to see if only you could see
That life is so merry, so jolly and free
Come listen to me and hear what I say
Just a little favor from society
cause it only needs a muscle to be happy
So come and show it and give all the love
Refrain:
Give a little bit of smile
And the world would smile too
Yes, a little bit of smile
And the sun will shine through
Give a little bit of smile
Spread the cheers now
Spread them smile after smile
Life will be easy, I promise youll see
Open up your eyes to things of beauty
And remember the world will find its glory
If you and me will only agree
Give a little bit of smile
And the world would smile too
Yes, a little bit of smile
And the sun will shine through
Give a little bit of smile
Spread the cheers now
Spread them wide like the bird
That keeps on flying in the sky
Like the child who listens to a lullaby
Theres a smile that we can share together
Give that smile and love one another
Give a little bit of smile
And the world would smile too
Yes, a little bit of smile
And the sun will shine through
Give a little bit of smile
Spread the cheers now
Spread them smile after smile
A little bit of smile
song performed by by Lea Salonga
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Look Around
Look around what do you see?
the sky, a ceiling, the ground, the floor
trees, shelves, a fence, a wall
look around what do you see?
a corner, in a corner, a sidewalk, a stairways
amazing what you see when you look around
look behind you what do you see?
a smile, a frown, a surprise, a shocked face
people act differently when you do a quick look
fun to try, shocking to see what people think
some enjoy, others show anger
a few Hello's a bunch what the hell?
look behind you what do you see?
nothing, sometimes something
beautiful, ugly, new or worn
hard to believe what can you see
when you open your eyes and see the world around
many different views
some the same, many different
one thing is you are the one to see it all
just look around and see what the world
for the eyes have plenty to see and to show you
poem by Michael Peterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Factors Given to This Earth
With a huffing puffed removed of fluff,
Mother Nature comes to turn some lights out!
No discussions are solicited when repercussions done...
Are man made not to fix.
And Mother Nature silences both minds and mouths...
With a swiftness to handle this!
Dirty deed these culprits breed,
Upon Mother's precious natural wonders.
And Mother steams with a scream and has had it!
Knocking these leechers out...
For Her is a movement to improve,
Those factors given to this Earth.
And no one will diminish them...
As Mother Nature emphatically,
In Her enthusiastic way to keep aesthetics obeyed...
Reverses dirty deeds these culprits began.
With an elimination done of sinning women and men.
And the beginning of that has begun to begin the 'beguine'.
Note:
'Begin the Beguine' is a song Cole Porter wrote
while composing at the piano in the bar of the Ritz Hotel in Paris.
And October 1935, June Knight introduce it in the Broadway musical,
Jubilee. Produced at the Imperial Theater in New York city.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Based In Demonic Ways
If you are not playing sports...
Get out.
If you are not attending school,
On a scholarship.
Get out.
Visit but do not stay.
Those who give...
Are the least respected.
And that is projected in the atmosphere.
The people sit in dens of sins and wickedness.
And those in control,
Have done their best...
To protect the wishes of their ancestors.
Those who lie, cheated and stoled!
If you are young...
Have fun!
And get out.
Those too old in their minds...
Have been confined!
A sniffing dog will not find life lived wholesomely!
Not within the boundaries.
Not from these folks.
With traditions based in demonic ways!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Stuff Is Blatant
My observations aren't created.
Rarely embellished are they envisioned.
I see what I see.
And hear what I hear.
Ignoring what is there,
I do not make that decision.
I am one of those probing nosey people.
Wanting to comprehend with a reason,
To question 'why'?
I can be analytical if I wish.
But what I observe...
There is little need for it.
This stuff is blatant!
For open eyes to satiate.
Blatant with a rawness,
Hard for some to digest.
I guess that is why so many folks,
Delude themselves with pretentions.
Preferring lives fantasized,
To moralize what upsets.
This stuff is blatant,
Oh yes.
There in black and white!
But I understand why,
Some choose to camouflage this in disguise.
So much truth conflicts with a resistance to reality.
And reality is much despised.
This stuff is blatant!
For open eyes to satiate.
Blatant with a rawness,
Hard for some to digest.
I guess that is why so many folks,
Delude themselves with pretentions.
Preferring lives fantasized,
To moralize what upsets.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hooped Dresses In the Dirt Dragging
Is it so crazy to relive happy days.
With a squeaky clean innocence,
To amaze.
Gone are cloudy eyes cleared from a haze.
Reminiscent of those times,
Covered wagons were the rage.
Hooped dresses in the dirt dragging,
With dudes in zoot suits.
Wide-legged, high-waisted pants...
And wearing button spatted boots.
Today are seen exposed breasts.
And men's underwear.
No one wants to cover up,
Anything bare.
Hooped dresses in the dirt dragging.
Bring 'em back.
Bring' em back.
Dudes in zoot suits,
And wearing button spatted boots.
Bring 'em back.
Bring' em back.
Hooped dresses in the dirt dragging.
Bring 'em back.
My mind is old-fashion.
Yet ecclectic are my dreams.
I'd never thought I'd be a prude.
But some exposed butts demean.
So crude are these visions.
Looking away is not enough.
Who okayed today's display?
With no signs of it giving up!
My eyes have grown tired.
And my lips have long not touched.
'Where are we? '
Hooped dresses in the dirt dragging.
Bring 'em back.
Bring' em back.
Dudes in zoot suits,
And wearing button spatted boots.
Bring 'em back.
Bring' em back.
Hooped dresses in the dirt dragging.
Bring 'em back.
Today are seen exposed breasts.
And men's underwear.
No one wants to cover up,
Anything bare.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Seven Sins again
>
> Do we as a people really know or care
> Concerning the seven sins?
>
> Those sins are apart of our every day life.
> Those sins are apart of our strife.
> I've heard the first was vanity or pride
>
> Now that is an hell of a ride...
> Be it physical or spiritual, how would
> One keep his/her feet on the ground?
>
> Sanity what a big role...
> Does God have pride? Then I am lost.
> What mean the word boss?
>
> Those seven sins has really cost,
> Things to be...
> Unfree and that will include me.
Was it pride that set Eve free
And made Adam give up his freedom of will?
Still...
I must appeal...
I am not ill...
But the seven is a thrill...for real,
What envy you? and who...why?
And do you cry?
The have and the have nots...
Gluttony would that be?
Are all seven just pure envy?
Lust not and bust...
Lust not and rust...
The wrath of lust not is have not,
Either way you go...
Whatever door...rich or poor,
Kindness and anger in the long run meet,
Good or bad we sit and eat.
Sometimes eating out of greed...
God speed...
Is lust greed or pride?
Or just sloth...denied?
A natural, physical and spiritual guide.
'Man she looks good'
Gluttony in the hood.
'He is so fine'...or just signs of the time,
Lust is not mine.
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Anthony Considine
OUT in the wastes of the West countrie,
Out where the white stars shine,
Grim and silent as such men be,
Rideth a man with a history—
Anthony Considine.
For the ways of men they are manifold
As their differing views in life;
Some sell themselves for the lust of gold,
And some for the lust of strife:
But this man counted the world well lost
For the love of his neighbour’s wife.
They fled together, as those must flee
Whom all men hold in blame;
Each to the other must all things be
Who cross the gulf of iniquity
And live in the land of shame.
But a light-o’-love, if she sins with one,
She sinneth with ninety-nine:
The rule holds good since the world begun—
Since ever the streams began to run
And the stars began to shine.
The rule holds still, and he found it true—
Anthony Considine.
A nobler spirit had turned in scorn
From a love that was stained with mire;
A weaker being might mourn and mourn
For the loss of his Heart’s Desire:
But the anger of Anthony Considine
Blazed up like a gaming fire
And she, with her new love, presently
Came past with her eyes ashine;
And Gad so willed it, and God knows why,
She turned and laughed as they passed hire by—
Anthony Considine.
Her laughter stung as a whip might sting;
And mad with his wounded pride
He turned and sprang with a panther’s spring,
And struck at his rival’s side:
And only the woman, shuddering,
Could tell how the dead man died!
She dared not speak—and the mystery
Is buried in auld lang syne,
But out on the wastes of the West countrie,
Grim and silent as such men be,
Rideth a man with a history’
Anthony Considine.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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A Song
We shall close our eyes,
O people! O people!
We shall open our eyes,
O warriors! O warriors!
Lift us up above the sea,
O angels! O angels!
Drown the enemy under the sea,
O demons! O demons!
We have closed our eyes,
O people! O people!
We have opened our eyes,
O warriors! O warriors!
Give us strength to fly over the sea,
O birds! O birds!
Give us courage to die under the sea,
O fish! O fish!
poem by Daniil Ivanovich Kharms
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When Your Sins Come Home to Roost
When you fear the barber’s mirror when you go to get a crop,
Or in sorrow every morning comb your hair across the top:
When you titivate and do the little things you never used—
It is close upon the season when your sins come home to roost.
Many were the sins of others and you never were to blame,
Some were sins you shared in common—you must suffer all the same;
Some were sins of wasted hours with the wine cup or a mate,
But you cannot share the burden—and they come in duplicate.
Oh! you’ll find the fowls are heavy and their claws are sharp and deep—
They will bow your head in working, they will jerk you from your sleep,
And so many hands are eager just to give your back a boost
On the road to wreck and ruin when your sins come home to roost.
But you don’t let on they’re roosting and you take some only way,
And you never whine or guzzle and you neither curse nor pray;
You will never for an instant let your lower lip be loosed—
But you stand up like a soldier when your sins come home to roost!
And you’ll find them growing lighter till you find room for a few
Of the sins of other mortals who have weaker souls than you:
Then you’ll smile, and not too sadly, at old sins reintroduced—
And you’ll be a man in many when your sins come home to roost.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The one game we all play
The one game we all play
We play games
To show our valour
And mainly to win
We do not mind going for coaching
If we feel we do not have the
Required strength to win
We play games
Either as a team or individual
The attempt is to demonstrate
That we are better talented
Than the team or member
Against whom we play
Nations enthuse people to play games
So that they add pride
Some games are played with
Gadgets and protective accessories
We have spectators to watch
The way we play
We have umpires and referees
Who ensure rules of the games
Are strictly adhered
And it is all a fair play
We play games indoor or outdoor
We play games in daylight
Or under artificial illumination
We score while playing
And the score achieved by a team or individual
In a specific time
Decides the winner
We telecast the games
We comment on the strengths and weaknesses
Of a team or individual
We conduct national and international
Tournaments to declare a team or individual
As champion
Irrespective of skills, race, gender
We all play a game
Which is played mainly to lose
It is an individual game
With no specific rules
With no umpire
With no spectator
With no commentator
With no TV coverage
With no scores
With no trophies
With no victory stands
With no top scorer
With no “player of the match”
But we play
Most of us like to play this game
Indoor and in closed doors
Decency and civilized ways
Do not allow this game being played in the open
There is no season for this game
It can be played any part of the day
And any part of the year
Summer, winter, monsoon seasons
Have no bearing on this game
The one requirement in this game is
Complete transparency and intimacy
Rules for this game
Vary from individual to individual
Rules also get refined
With the experience of the players
There are no restrictions to employ
Any method as both the players
Are determined to be the loser
Duration of play depends again
On the individuals
The game ends
Most often to the satisfaction
Of the both the players
In other games players declare
That they are retiring from playing
There is no retirement in this game
As players advance in age
They understand it is more a mind game
Outcome of this game
Are further more players
You guessed it right
It is the game of love
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Irrational And Static Combatives
There is no justification I can show,
For resenting those spending their lives...
Wasting their gifts to them presented,
In fears they try to hide with lies.
Or those who actually have created careers,
Preventing others...
From doing what they do,
By the use of backroom tactics...
Intentionally to smear with a doing so clear.
I've witnessed the evidence,
How a sharing of gifts increases progress.
I've witnessed the evidence,
Of those blocking others with a stopping...
That eventually diminishes their own quality of life.
Only to call for a unified effort...
When it begins to dawn on them,
A doing of nothing done...
Reflects a jealousy deceivers participate in.
Leaving them to become losers...
In a game they sought to see others victims.
There is no justification I can show,
For resenting those spending their lives...
Wasting their gifts to them presented,
In fears they try to hide with lies.
Or those who actually have created careers,
Preventing others...
From doing what they do,
By the use of backroom tactics...
Intentionally to smear with a doing so clear.
Defining with unquestioned meaning...
The demeaning of irrational and static combatives.
I have no justification for a resentment shown towards this.
Although there is a definite existence of it,
In environments where people find this accepting.
And I'm discovering my tolerance becoming more limited.
Although from it,
I do choose to move but still feel affected.
Is it ignorance if it overwhelms and conditions?
Is it ignorance if it conditions into subdivisions?
Is it just a condition of ignorance...
That continues to offend when this is mentioned?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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