Lessons Taught
What does one win,
When limbs are gone...
And minds have become rattled.
What blood is sacrificed,
To declare one victorious.
And all is at peace again to be delusioned.
What struggle sought against another,
Will gain one rest and sleep.
With doors and windows never to lock.
And who finally is the one that learns,
With lessons taught?
After being knocked to the ground.
And off one's feet to become conscious.
When do ears and eyes open,
To absorb anything that has happened...
In one's past.
Is there anything left one honors to respect,
Without being hypnotized by greed.
Is there anything in one's mind attached,
To wanting a quality of life WITH truth and honesty.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Ivy Leaguers Who Cheat
Ivy leaguers who cheat,
To increase their chances of feeding greed...
May deceive,
But...
Don't they reflect a society,
Promoting feasting greed?
Integrity...?
Where is at?
And honesty...?
Where is it at?
Respect has gone.
And that's a fact.
Thieving is on!
And...
Taught when one is born.
Integrity...?
Where is at?
And honesty...?
Where is it at?
Respect has gone.
And that's a fact.
Thieving is on!
And...
Taught when one is born.
Ivy leaguers who cheat,
To increase their chances of feeding greed...
May deceive,
But...
Don't they reflect a society,
Promoting feasting greed?
Thieving is on!
And...
Taught when one is born.
Ivy leaguers who cheat...
Are honored and promoted to feed greed.
This is success for those who seek the best.
No matter if a quality of life...
Bleeds.
Ivy leaguers who cheat...
Are honored and promoted to feed greed.
This is success for those who seek the best.
No matter if a quality of life...
Bleeds.
Integrity...?
Where is at?
And honesty...?
Where is it at?
Respect has gone.
And that's a fact.
Thieving is on!
And...
Taught when one is born.
Ivy leaguers who cheat,
Reflect...
A people who've been taught,
To feed greed.
And feeling they're entitled to feast,
Greed!
And feeling they're entitled to feast,
Greed!
And feeling they're entitled to feast!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Once The Living Of Life Has Been Given More Respect
One doesn't necessarily,
Have to come to appreciate life...
By being knocked off one's feet,
During a bout with reality.
With a looking at the ground closely.
And from a different perspective.
To come to realize the ground is solid!
And extremely supportive.
Humbling although it may be,
To uncover this awakening experience...
Many have discovered it is the best way,
To eliminate delusions much quicker.
With some finding it very beneficial,
To learn truth and honesty...
Ultimately pays sweet dividends.
Once the living of life has been given more respect.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Master Of Mind Can only be a Master Mind!
Seeing and hearing,
Is it eye that see?
Is it ear that hear?
Eyes are windows of Mind,
Like are ears, eyes have eyelids, ears remain open!
Seeing is not perceiving,
Light passes through the small camera,
Giving picture of world around,
Yet mind is the processor,
Process the data,
Process the colourful image,
Sometime filling with its own colour!
But it is not vision,
mind sees something itself,
Seeing through the mind without the help of eyes
Neither windows opened,
Nor light from open windows affect!
Mind is that faculty sees something within,
And day by day the vision become clear,
When mind learns it is not the seer,
It sees everything clear,
Clearly presented to the master,
And Self is the master of Mind,
When mind is pure and clear,
Without prejudice and suspense traits,
Self perceives self in its true nature,
Nothing goes bad,
processed food for thought remain good for ever!
one who sees eyes as seer,
He is ignorant,
One who sees mind as a seer,
Knows not,
One whose mind sees the seer is different,
Vision get purified, seer can see through the mind,
Scenes seen by mind with eyes closed,
when perceived by seer,
It becomes vision of life,
And that vision when becomes ambition of life,
Ambition becomes aspiration,
Aspiration transforms into mission,
Mission transmits wisdom and genius of self!
Self becomes master Of mind
Self becomes master Mind,
Master and mind becomes one,
Master Of Mind Can only be a Master Mind
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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On Their Knees
Theft and deception,
Have been their worst enemies.
And the power of truth,
Reduces them to miseries.
An escape hatch is sought,
As the plunge from their throne is felt!
The misuse of their own citizens,
Inflames them from within.
They can not blame anyone else!
Their struggle to maintain integrity has gone!
Not one of them fed on greed,
Has an identity that is strong.
Listening with patience and correcting their faults...
Had not been a priority.
So on their knees,
Lessons not learned...
To them are brought!
Too late.
To heal from self hatred taught!
So on their knees,
Lessons not learned...
To them are brought!
Too late.
To heal from self hatred taught!
Theft and deception,
Have been their worst enemies.
And the power of truth,
Reduces them to miseries.
So on their knees,
Lessons not learned...
To them are brought!
Too late.
To heal from self hatred taught!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nothing Stays to Stick
Opportunities do not alone come,
To arrive without connections.
Very few doors open or close...
If they are not attached to hinges.
How many can say they sit,
Inside a house without a roof?
A home is not a home...
Unless someone lives in it,
To make that proof.
And who can say they are truly happy,
Until that has been pursued?
A quality of life is only quality obtained...
When all pieces come together,
And everyone is participating...
With no one deluded or refusing to accept truth!
And when that is discovered...
That is maintained.
Nothing stays to stick to cement quick,
Without a seriousness attached to it!
And that seriousness is there and meant.
For purposes to have those involved...
Accepting there is an agreed upon benefit.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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With Words To Express, Define Or Explain
Smothered under thick layers of lies!
Suppressed by deceptions,
That keeps them self obsessed...
To excuse with alibis.
And no longer accepting the affects of self examination.
With cleared and open wider eyes.
They are first taught to assume positions,
Of being the center of the Universe.
Although from where they sit on Earth,
No one knows where up or down is.
Or if they are witnessing the left or right of it.
They learn to judge,
From lessons learned from birth first...
That whatever else exists,
From delusions quick to depict themselves...
Flawless.
There is a need to believe this ridiculousness,
Regardless of reality...
They wish with attempts to reverse.
And to curse those who are conscious...
With broadening observations,
Sought to seek and within them thirst.
With restricting limits,
Many self righteous think of others immediately...
By values and standards crumbling beneath their feet.
But yet refuse to see their own self imposing defeat,
From a medicating on maintaining minds addicted to fantasies.
And denying the existence of truth,
There to reduce their increasing agonies enforced and produced.
No matter how overwhelming the evidence,
Of a need for them to awaken from a maddening ignorance.
They've become too addicted to free and release to leave behind.
And unfortunate for them are these times we live,
That are completely out of their control...
Unfolding!
For all to behold with nothing left to be said,
With words to express, define or explain.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Forward Motion
Whoa-o...Ive been banging my head against the wall
Whoa-o...for so long it seems I knocked it down, yeah it got knocked down
Whoa-o...and the heating bill went through the roof
Whoa-o...and the wall I knocked down was the proof
That my landlord needed to kick me out
I got evicted now Im living on the street
My spirits lifted...oh wait, that wasnt me
Too many turns have turned out to be wrong
This time I learned that, I knew it all along
When car crashes occur
Then Ill be what you were
When I see what I should
When I see that its good (that its good)
To experience the bittersweet
To taste defeat
Then brush my teeth
Experience the bittersweet
To taste defeat
Then brush my teeth
Cause I struggle with forward motion
I struggle with forward motion
We all struggle with forward motion
Cause forward motion is harder than it sounds
Well everytime I gain some ground
I gotta turn myself around again
Its harder than it sounds
Well everytime I gain some ground
I gotta turn myself around again
Whoa-o...Ive been banging my head against the wall
Whoa-o...for so long it seems I got knocked out. yeah, I got knocked out cold
Whoa-o...and the medical bills went through the roof
Whoa-o...and the scar on my head is the proof
That Ill still remember this when I get old
I got evicted now Im living on the street
My spirits lifted...oh wait, that wasnt me
Too many turns have turned out to be wrong
This time I learned that, I knew it all along
When I grasp the concept
Then Ill sleep where you slept
When I know I need help
When I allow myself (allow myself)
To experience the bittersweet
To taste defeat
Then brush your teeth
Experience the bittersweet
To taste defeat
Then brush your teeth
Cause I struggle with forward motion
I struggle with forward motion
We all struggle with forward motion
Cause forward motion is harder than it sounds
Well everytime I gain some ground
I gotta turn myself around again
Its harder than it sounds
Well everytime I gain some ground
I gotta turn myself around again
Cause I struggle with forward motion
Cause I struggle with forward motion
We all struggle with forward motion
[in background:]
(cause forward motion is harder than it sounds.
Well everytime I gain some ground
I gotta turn myself around again
Cause forward motion is harder than it sounds
Well everytime I gain some ground
I gotta turn myself around again)
Cause I struggle with forward motion
Cause I struggle with forward motion
We all struggle with forward motion
Cause I struggle with forward motion
Cause I struggle with forward motion
We all struggle with forward motion
song performed by by Relient K
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Likemindedness
So,
What are you going to do?
Keep running away...
In pursuit,
For the rest of your life?
Sniffing for clues and finding fault,
To assault everyone,
With street talk and negative thoughts.
Likemindedness is a wish you keep dissing.
Those on your path you cross and disrespect.
Yet you know you're not right...
When what is said
Provokes a fight you start and ignite.
You know you're not right...
When you're wrong and don't like it.
To you,
Conflicts excite.
Yet nothing appeals...
To bring to you peace and a restful night.
Let go of the design to find losers,
And addicting abusive lessons taught.
Where you go...
Confirmation of your pain,
Will be re-examined and be sought.
Give it your absence.
Leave behind what has been bought!
Your steps are recycled and tarried.
And in a trap is where you've been caught.
If your running should take flight,
You will fly with those of likemindedness.
Separate from those who backbite...
Leave the blood and the battle,
And soar above the storm.
So,
What are you going to do?
Keep running away...
In pursuit,
For the rest of your life?
Or carry your nightmares...
Secured and attached,
Yet despised!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Of Unused Space
I love your place.
You seem to have a lot,
Of unused space!
I wonder if...
'No!
Avoid any wondering.
Especially if you do it here.
You have your eyes on 'space'.
I have my mind on peace.
A peace I'm going to keep!
Just as it is felt.
Feel it?
Remember it.
And eliminate any wondering.'
I was just going to suggest...
Your renting out some of it.
And the expenses we could split!
'No!
Avoid any wondering.
Especially if you do it here.
You have your eyes on 'space'.
I have my mind on peace.
A peace I'm going to keep!
Just as it is felt.
Feel it?
Remember it.
And eliminate any wondering.
What you find here...
Is something I treasure AND endear.
It aint about money,
I most need and sometimes want.
This is about peace.
The peace that allows me to flaunt it...
Inside my mind.
And every headache others wish to find,
On the other side of these windows and doors?
I have long in my mind,
Left behind! '
But...?
You have...
THIS!
'And,
No time left...
To discuss any conflict,
You may have with it!
And developing on your manipulating lips.
You may sit and continue your visit,
Or go.'
But we are cousins.
Blood relatives.
First cousins,
In fact!
'And your point,
Is...
What? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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(V – 1990) War & Peace
War has stabbed the heart of peace
And peace lies bleeding now –
A peace which was healing slow
The wounds it had suffered hard,
A peace which was recovering
From the mind blowing blows
Of the decades past!
Now the precious blood of that peace is draining
And each dropp of dripping blood
Is singing the songs of savagery
To the frightened ears of civilizations!
Man mastered bombs but now bombs master man!
Man busy growing the world outside
How poor he forgot to grow his inside!
And now when he stands a helpless child
Before the giant of things he grew
Reason comes again and asks
Was this the progress you built through the years
And man has no answer
He just drops into wounds
Wounds inflicted by bullets of arrogance
Of selfishness, hatred, fear and greed!
Oh, these bombs that preach ‘might is right’
Oh, these merciless bloodthirsty bullets –
What answers are they? What justice makes they?
What battle is real than a battle for peace?
What victory, true, when won at the cost of peace? !
Peace was long destroyed on the minds of men
So no peace now remains outside!
Rising from narrow rooms of thought
Man armed with the mortal arms of passion
Smashes the skulls of his brethren
And when upon the fractured bones
And the boiled flesh, cries of anguish fall
And when the hands and limbs of innocents
Lie eaten and bitten by vultures of violence
Their hearts cracking into a fury of pain
And when thick clouds of smoke
Of the smoke of life, rises from the graveyards of war
A tear comes into the eyes of man and time asks:
Hasn’t History taught you anything still?
And man stands dumb!
With all his will and wisdom paralyzed
He searches for peace, for the solace of peace
But peace lies writhing there!
He knows he wants it dearly
The company of peace,
Wounded though he be!
But peace is dying there;
But peace is not dead!
His life lies in our hands
The wounds are many
But many more can be spared!
The wounds are sore
But they can be medicined still!
War is death
But war can be killed!
With It You May Gain Wisdom
They don't have the honesty to tell you the truth?
I can't believe I am hearing 'you' say this!
When did you become an advocate of truth?
And who or what threatens your perception,
To finally accept it.
And what are you expecting as a benefit?
The repeating of corruption and deceit?
Well...
The process of truth,
Will be proven to be cost effective!
And with it you may gain wisdom.
However...
Believing you will pocket with truth as an asset,
May disappoint a greed you've been accustomed...
To feed with the ease of telling quick lies.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Evocation
Old fool who I knew so well
Damn your soul now straight to hell
Soiled are your hands from the blood you’ve spilled
Sacrificed your soul for the innocents you’ve killed
The love you’ve sought not from any human being
Lives ran through your fingers for the pain not seeing
Gave the Devil his well deserved due
In his clutches now for he’s got you
The breath of life no more can be tasted
To the bowels of purgatory your life you’ve wasted
Dark was your heart fill with hate
To find the truth for you it’s far to late
Lessons now you’ve never learned
Love of the world you’ve always spurned
For humanity you had no concern
Forever in perdition your soul will burn
Sacrificed to a sacred cow
Brimstone and fire burns you now
On tranquil seas your spirit won’t float
For the prayers you gave was to an unholy goat
Sorrows we have not on your demise
Tears won’t fall for fruitless exercise
Legions possessed you and fill you from within
Coursed souls absorbed by eternal sin
You deserve everything you’ve gotten
For deep within you are truly rotten
Maggots now devour you whole
Rotting flesh festers in the ground cold
You fiend, rest you not in peace demon seed
Disagreeable scoundrel lost in your own greed
For all the lives you’ve treated cruel
The desolate one fans the flames with fuel
For you never treated me well
So goodbye and strike the church bell
To the dark side your spirit will dwell
No more to breath the stench of your foul smell
Mourning for you would be quite contrary
We will sing songs, dance, and be truly merry
We will drink spirits and spill none on your grave tonight
From now on all in the world will be right
Sorry for you for you won’t be there
No longer about you we have to care
All we have left are bad words about you to cuss
Gone is the fouled monster that once loomed over us
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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If It Is Really Meant For Me....
you say that i should
keep knocking
joy shall soon open
its window
ah, when it is meant really
for me
i need not knock even
even when i am far away
in that dead desert
the house will come running
looking for me
it will open all its five doors
and ten windows
it will let me sit in its
sofa
it will prepare my bed
where i can finally
rest for
the night
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A place anywhere
Finally you got to settle somewhere
Yu have no place to go anywhere
One can think of resting there
It is wonderful place with no fears
Whatever may be your deeds?
Whatever may be your greed?
You may have no worry to feed
You are taken away and freed
People wish heaven for you
I don’t know how far it is true?
Why do we pray for peace in heaven?
He has done nothing at all good even
We touch the feet and seek the blessings
There is something moral like missing
We were all the time at loggerheads
He used to be dreaded and we were afraid
It is not satisfaction at al for his departure
We don’t heave a sigh of relief for future
He could do worst all in his tenure
We feared so much and were unsure
We still lay a wreath
That is last respect to death
You may be buried deep in the ground
The final peace is lastly found
It is burial ground
Complete peace and absolutely no sound
No one goes there for any round
Occasional offerings and flowers to be found
No one may wish to come here
Still it has to somewhere near
The journey may soon be taken
Even if your belief is shaken
It has to be borne in mind
You got to and will have to find
The journey may end soon
You will be brought here in night or noon
Wish all a happy good bye
You have now nothing left to buy
You may not see them in times to come
You place is fixed with rousing welcome
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Pull / Pulk Revolving Doors
There are barn doors
And there are revolving doors
Doors on the rudders of big ships
And there are revolving doors
There are doors that open by themselves
There are sliding doors
And there are secret doors
There are doors that lock
And doors that dont
There are doors that let you in
And out
But never open
But there are trapdoors
That you cant come back from
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Give Me Something Other Than What Is Preached
Give me liberty...
Or something else I can value.
The cost of maintaining my freedom...
Has already achieved for me deepening debt!
Give me a solution.
Or something today that makes more sense...
Than turning on my TV
To watch the media salute crime.
With repeated decadence.
Give me less self righteousness...
From those who profess,
They harbor no racistness.
And yet they do their best...
To leave that smothered to go unaddressed.
Give me honesty and truth.
Even from a pulpit...
These days that is rare!
Give me something other than what is preached!
Something other than what is exposed,
Blatantly on the streets.
Give me something other...
Than lessons that teach evilness and sin!
Give me something other...
Than addicting temptations,
Left at my doorstep to let in!
Give me someone who does 'not' commit a crime...
Does prison time.
And then 'finds' God...
To declare His word to me.
Wanting to preach to me from scriptures...
And that God has 'revealed' to him...
A need I have,
He now 'sees'.
Please! !
Give me something other...
Than a rehabilitation done,
By those who have not sacrificed their lives...
Trying to live a life from the beginning that is right!
Then I will know there is some positivity...
Trying to clean and clear this polluted air!
Choking with a reekness.
To leave masses insane to make claims,
For material gains perceived with deceptions...
That no one with 'insight' is aware of their aims.
Since everything else...
Experienced by those still left with good intentions,
Seems to be a marketing of a recycled mess!
By those on the 'right' denouncing those 'liberal'
Standing on the left!
Leaving no one to accept responsibility.
And those who desire to...
Are treated with much disrespect!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Packt Like Sardines In A Crushd Tin Box
there are bomb? doors and there are revolving doors doors on the rudders of big ships and there are revolving doors there are doors that open by themselves there are sliding doors and there are secret doors there are doors that lock and doors that don't there are doors that let you in and out but never open but there are trap doors that you can't come back from
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Birth of the Warrior
Respect. Sought, yet it is not found, so it cannot be given.
Control. Sought, yet it is not found, so it cannot be obtained.
Power. Sought, yet it is not found, so it cannot be obtained.
Love. Sought, yet it is not found, so it cannot be given.
Joy. Sought, yet it is not found, so it cannot be obtained.
Peace. Sought, yet it is not found, so it cannot be obtained.
Sought from the source external.
Robbing another, and in turn robbing the seeker.
Another protects theirs, as the seeker protects his.
In the quest, it is given away to another, with nothing returned,
The seeker loses themselves.
To put another before self, is to find one self.
Yet, the seeker must protect what is theirs.
Though it must be shared, as it is found for this purpose.
It is that, which is shared, that can never be stolen.
It is the gift.
Not to be given, as one who gives, expects it back.
The gift that is given to one, cannot be shared by many.
The gift must be protected.
For those starving from within, will get a taste,
Not realizing that they have their own.
They just have yet to harness it.
The power lies within.
Yet, within lies, it lies.
It is when the seeker respects themselves, they can respect others, and can share respect.
When they can control themselves, others respect will respect them.
They then find their inner empowerment, and now need power from no other.
The battles you endured, you are courageous.
The demons you have battled, you are fearless.
After many defeats, you rose and became victorious.
The seeker is not a victim,
The seeker is a champion.
They have conquered the battle from within.
Many battles lie ahead, they can reflect on the battles past.
Now, the warrior inside is born.
Fight on!
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pull Pulk Revolving Doors
There are barn doors
And there are revolving doors
Doors on the rudders of big ships
We are revolving doors
There are doors that open by themselves
There are sliding doors
And there are secret doors
There are doors that lock
And doors that don't
There are doors that let you in
And out
But never open
But they are trapdoors
That you can't come back from
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love and understanding
Who today would praise
consciousness itself,
which brings new life and thought
every morning, opening
our minds a little more,
making the light seem brighter,
everything more vivid,
life itself more worth living?
This morning, I read the words
‘Love itself is understanding’…
and in the mind, doors blew open,
windows rattled, a wind
that smelled of spring and grass and rain
blew through the mind
and the word love
blew off the dusty shelf
along with the cobweb
but lay unbroken on the floor
waiting to be washed and put back
next to understanding
and the silliest, biggest gift of all
is to know for the first time
what you’ve always known
and which nearly two thousand years ago
Gregory the Great
also recognised for the first time,
maybe felt the same way, as if
he was entrusted with the key
to a large house on a windy day.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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