Related quotes: No one has the right...

Lieing Would Not Be to Your Benefit

No one has the right to lie.

'My wholesome innocent consciousness.
Beaming with the hopefulness...
Of acquiring impressive things.

Daydream and blossoming,
On the furtile fields of my expansive imagination.
Had at one time thought those thoughts.
Until it dawn on me.
Like a Sunrise awakening upon the horizon.
And...
To a degree,
I agree with your assessment...
Of a life lived to be teased by temptations sold.
Primarily to keep you reaching for the Moon and Stars.
And taxed!
For your entire life.

No one has the 'right' to lie!
However...
There are some exceptions.'

'What' exceptions?

'Those that own...
Not rent.
Or mortgage on credited loans.
Can do what they please.
If the land you live on,
Can be taken from beneath your feet...
You can not afford to lie.
You have not purchased.
Or own outright the deed.
Therefore,
Lieing would not be to your benefit.
Your lies told...
Would be created for purposes of escape.

IF you OWN.
And control who eats,
Where they sleep.
What they wear and drive!
You can 'lie' anytime you want to.
WHO's going to object?
You?
Do you realize how many decisions are made,
Everyday...
Regarding your life.
And those doing it,
Could care less if you exist.
AND they can say you don't!
And...
We both know that would be a lie!

Those that can get and maintain your attention.
And have you believe,
Eating mud pies is nutritional.
And will keep you filled with vitality,
For one hundred years.
To regain the look of a thirty year old,
Forever!
Can do whatever they want.
They already do.
You have a TV and have gone to movies!

And PLEASE...
Do not mention religion to me.
We'd be here for hours.
As you try to convince me,
Of the tremendous powers within the 'good' book! '

There are!

'Whose good book?
Who's interpretation?
And upon who's land,
Are those powers most effective? '

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Land Of Hope And Glory

Urrrrh
What's the time?
I was trying to get some sleep
Attention, urrraaah, bridges
Sharkey, Nutley, Jackson, Thompson,Master
Well, as you can see we've got a new recruit to this land of hope and glory
Hands behind backs and legs apart and tell us all of your unfortunate story.
Who me sir?
Yes, you ssssir!
I was an innocent man till someone grassed me of a plan
Of earning some big a money
If I hadn't mouthed it about, I am sure without doubt
I'd 'ave missed this land of hope and glory
Well you poor poor sod, here you're up sharp at six thirty
Cold shower down to breakfast, can't have you looking dirty
I suggest you eat what's given you even if it doesn't agree with you
Cos It's all you're be getting up until twelve thirty
In between this time stay up in your room, you can dream of life
good things
Two years of my teen age life given to this stand to attention life
Of land of hope and glory
I get so bored as time goes by, I think I'll do something dirty
I pick at the floor for juicy butts and I'll make myself a smoke
A bog roll and envelope stick it, all this helps to pass my time
As the evening drags on, you can watch a little telly
Hot Gossip pans people with a little bit of belly
A hot drink served cold with the heat of yesterday's
Don't complain learn the game and I'll get through another day
I watch the second hand on the clock at long last is nine thirty
Off to bed straight to sleep as I leave this land of hope and glory
But only for a few seconds I'm in n ecstasy
Before the bell rings to let me know, sharp at six thirty
A the, a two, a six, a ta
Quiet, come on you lot, come on, lights out

song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Exceptions Made To Created Rules

Exceptions made to created rules,
Has established the need.
For a Department of Addendums.
Making the following of rules,
Foolish.
For anyone attempting to understand,
The purpose of their origin.

Since the following of rules legitimately,
Hasn't made those values and standards...
Many proclaim as adding a quality to their lives,
A cost effective proposition.

In fact,
Prior to those exceptions made,
One's life lived had been with less complications.
Today,
Those complications are needing interpretations...
For those seeking explanations,
Whether to live basically with no rules to follow.
Or demand more addendums,
To define what basic means.

And which lawful rule is broken,
If one decides living a life that 'is' basic
Will not have them arrested for indecent exposure.
Since many will protest they have become offended.
By someone daring to live,
Without attempting to make impressions.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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That Life Inside the Dream...

there is someone inside you
that comes to you like a stranger at dawn
you look closely
and the face speaks like it were you
that noon time
it speaks of an inner wish
which of course you pretend you do not really understand
because of so much fear
that it could be the real you finally
it is on this land of cloudy paths
and glimmering waters where you take exceptions
you compromise a bit
since the strength of your reason is fast asleep
and you operate merely on
the trickles of the sweat on your skin
it is cold here
and you need the pleasure of hot oil
rubbed on your nape
and the soles of your feet
that really tickles you
much

how many years have you lived here?
you know it well and you until now
has not desired any form of escape
there is death of everything in you beyond this threshold
again you are reminded
'i live on compromises'

you finish the dream
and when you are awake you just dismiss the story
as one that you cannot really remove
too lightly

then you dress yourself
brush your teeth
look at your face in the mirror
forget about it
and then move on
with another segment of your life

'this is life' you assure yourself
then you admire the way you have been acting
on your thoughts

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Book Hides A Mask

If I were a book, I’d be the saddest story ever told
Tears to dampen the pages of every book sold
It would’nt start out with once upon a time
My story would be about me, a victimless crime

About many storms in life, always drowning in sorrows
Thrown away as someones trash, no tomorrows
Beaten down till no hope at all, but still grasping at strings
Having not much happiness in material things

Heart always broken, shred into many pieces
Not wanting to try, but a life with many new leases
I’ve got to try, continue going for my loved ones
But each day of life is nothing but reruns

I feel like I’ve lived a hundred years, and I’ll keep going
So tired but a smile on my face will keep showing
For all to see this beautiful mask I wear on my face
The pain I carry I will keep to myself and never fall from grace

poem by Donna Nimmo
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Bridge

The bridge I walk every morning plays games with my fantasies-
The water that runs beneath could be some magical ocean-
Leading to a place unknown-
When I look upwards towards the sky
My imagination carries me to some distant island in the heavens
Where I can be myself and there is nobody there to
Plan my life or to rule my thoughts-
To live my life as I please has always been my fondest dream-
And if only this bridge I walk every morning
Would take me to that place of my utmost reverie-
Spring shall arrive in less than two days- I can think of tales in books about
The arrival of spring- longer days to come, and
The awakening of the supernatural- although
Sad to say that this bridge I walk everyday
Takes me to the same familiar place-
Though I can find beauty in blossoming crocuses, daffodils and forsythia,
I find myself living in the same world, place and time- though
In my thoughts I live in another realm,
And travel across a different bridge that shall take me to that kingdom in the sky-
There I can live with the saints and angels everybody speaks of, in this place where I
Become my own person and can just be myself-
With no one present to control my destiny-
The bridge I walk every morning takes me to a place I have deemed as
Nowhere land- although I do not intimately know the people there
I see them every day passing by, knowing
That they are none but ordinary beings
With ordinary thoughts and minds-
I have built a bridge inside of the territory of my mind
That leads me towards my own magical “land of oz”-
And that is where I live every time I find myself in solitude-
Inside of a world unreal to all but very real to me- until that time of day when
I must return to civilization and reality- here I tell myself
I shall die one day and cross that bridge of my fantasies and
Become a saint or an angel myself looking down from the heavens
Upon this world where I once lived and can now laugh and sigh happily- because
Nobody shall ever control my thoughts again –
I have won my battle against veracity- good dreams are known to be
The essence of everyone’s bliss and I have left all of my nightmares behind-
Happy to call myself a dreamer as I have crossed that bridge from
Past to present and then journeyed to a future free from fear and apprehension-
And I have become free to know there will never be any turning back…

poem by Claudia Krizay
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Simple Life

Imagine what it would be like
just to live the simple life,
a life with no electricity,
no radios, no TV and no music
blaring in your ears
twenty-four hours a day.
Back to the simple life
going to sleep when you are tied
and getting up when you want to,
work through the hours of daylight
on your own plot of land,
curl up with a good book
when evening calls.
Grow your own food
with no chemicals to help,
greet the morning sun
always with a smile.
Would it be nice to live the simple life
every once and a while.

14 October 2009

poem by David Harris
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Not Covered By Medicare

Spending habits out of control?
No problem.
Living on a fixed income,
And the doing of it has gotten old?
Nooo problem.

Are you graying with age gracefully?
Or are you still trying to convince anyone,
You are just a few years over 21?
No problem.

Just sit and admit it,
Even though difficult to do.
You are old and it shows!
Fixed income or not...
It is a part of life we all go through.
With few if any exceptions.
And that's the way our muscle flow.

'No!
Butt and stomach tucks.
Face lifts and the erasing of wrinkles,
Are not covered by 'medicare'.

However,
There may be a provision for corns and bunions,
With a co-pay.
Would you like your makeover to begin,
In those areas first?
We can take years off of the appearance of your feet.'

~Well...
Let me think about it.
I was hoping for something,
A bit more impressive.~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Today I Care

At one time I cared less,
About your thoughts.
And how they were expressed.
I was too busy collecting 'things'
Believing they would bring me a happiness.

At one time I perceived,
My needs were different than yours.
I thought of life as a contest...
And doing whatever I could to win,
Regardless of any suffering you did...
Behind 'your' closed doors.

That was a problem 'you' had,
I chose to ignore.

At one time I thought myself better than most,
If I had a college degree.
Afterall, so many didn't!
And I was getting 'mine'...
With very-little-sleep,
Indeed.

Any sacrifice committed I did,
Was done then for selfish reasons.
There was something I wanted to prove.
And selecting those I wished to please.
That is what I then did do!

I had corrupted thoughts.
Brought about by ego.
I had corrupted thoughts.
That would glorify my name.
And I was not above shame!
I had corrupted thoughts.
Not criminal but close.
I had corrupted thoughts I chose...
To drive a nice car and wear fine clothes.

Petty I know.
But I needed then to boast!

At one time I cared less,
About your thoughts.
And how they were expressed.
I was too busy collecting 'things'
Believing they would bring me a happiness.

At one time I perceived,
My needs were different than yours.
I thought of life as a contest...
And doing whatever I could to win,
Regardless of any suffering you did...
Behind 'your' closed doors.

But today I care about you more than ever.
Feeling us connected...
In a 'together' seperateness.
Today I care about you more than ever.
Both of us have been blessed,
Not to live it to impress.
But to be grateful for life as it is!
And that should be expressed.
To leave God to do the rest,
At His best!

At one time I cared less,
About your thoughts.
Your needs and your feelings.
Until I awakened to realize...
They were my own!
And 'that' God has shown.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lost Identity

Right here walking alone down the road I feel free
Because there is nothing pressuring me to agree
I can miss a step or slow down and shout out loud
Because no one will ask what I'm screaming about

Around you I have to watch my every step and move
Being careful not to do anything you'll not approve
Somewhere some time ago I lost me and became you
Being who you want me to be - someone brand new

My nails are now manicured and I wear a heavy ring
You only buy me designer outfits as a regular thing
I drive what you bought because you donated my car
But sometimes I can't breathe because my life is afar

You are always working and your time for me is spare
My days are filled with silly things and that's not fair
I finished my degree but now I don't remember why
Because here I live my life around you on stand by

You vowed to take care of me and you certainly do
You take care of everything and all is just about you
I can't find myself and I miss me how I was before
You control all of my moves and still ask for more

poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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The Thought I Cannot Complete

The thought I cannot complete,
This is the thought I cannot complete,
The thought of the life I lead,
The thought of the wonderful world I live in.

Thinking am I worth living in this precious world which we destroy for our survival,
Are we born to rule on this earth or are we born to serve on this earth.

Are we born to control the nature we cannot conserve, is this really the free world they claim to be, are we yet understanding the meaning of life.

This is the thought I cannot complete,
They say the brain is intellectual yet others believe money is power and so we claim to live in the free world we cannot afford.

I used to think religion is an individual belief though now I got caught in the world where i'm forced to believe even the fabricate religion yet I stand none credulous.

Does resurrection exist nor heaven and hell we told we will reach according to our good and evil deeds, or will I perish so the young soul shall be born,
This are the thoughts I cannot complete.

poem by Sefofane Shabalala
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It Shall...

do you realize how it all began
and so did it end?
for all when it starts,
so shall it end
my friend.

the book cover read in part...
'how you made it not'
and i thought for a sec it were...
'how you made it hot'

the inclination were on
the interpretation of the two,
but to carry on
with life; not doubting you.

do you realize how it all will end
and so did a money you spend?
so shall it end
my friend.

be howsoever you want to
but a corn you need to
plant to
feed your hungry belly as you want to.

a life with no meaning
is a lifeless life,
so live a life
with a meaning.
-

opn11052012/1116
ntema's unique poetry (nup)

poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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To Spend Time With Someone Equally Experienced

Wanting the best quality of life,
One can get...
Seems an outdated desire these days.
Especially when the having of things and money,
Is associated with acquiring happiness and contentment.

Turned into rubbish and trashed should be these thoughts.

Being able to purchase anything,
Has never brought into one's life a peace of mind.
Not a dime has been spent for it.
Unless a lottery win made the difference.
And in that case...
Some exceptions to the rules are made.

However...
Wanting the best quality of life,
One can get...
Should not be an option.
A preference,
Or a choice one makes after weeding through the spice and variety...
Life is 'rumored' to bring with an attachment of joy.

But...
It does seem,
That adventuring from one's comfort zone...
Eventually pinpoints a basicness of a life lived,
Is ultimately wished.
With a desire to spend time with someone equally experienced.
Freeing one to enjoy instead of find explanation,
For every little thing that is witnessed.
Or listening to someone complain about bugs flying around,
While strolling leisurely through a forest.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mother India

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are the paradise on earth
Where things are not in any dearth.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

In Your Lap live men and women
Of every caste and religion.
You rain your love and affection
On them all without distinction.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

You have got a peculiar trait
Due to which you are very great.
You adopt the foreigners too,
Who like to live and die for you.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

You are beautiful, all perfect;
You are rich in every aspect.
In the ancient times, we have heard,
Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

The mountains guard your honour here;
The ocean washes your feet there.
The rivers contain sweet water
Which for us is just like nectar.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

Our culture is ancient and high,
We are respected that is why.
Culture has bound us by and by,
With a chain of pure love and tie.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

We are sorry here live some men
Who are not loyal, but still then,
Pose as lovers of this nation,
Whom we do not like to mention.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

We are sorry here live some men;
Fire of hatred they ever fan.
Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,
Which we have got at a great cost.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

Let us be wise not to be tool
Of selfish powers which befool
Those who do not well understand
Their aim which is behind their stand.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

We will be lucky, if we die
For you, O Gracious Country High!
We’ll give them a fitting reply,
Who see you with a slanting eye.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

poem by Aziz Ahmad
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: CXIII

TO ONE WITH HIS SONNETS
This is the book. For evil and for good,
What my life was in it is written plain.
These are no dreams, but things of flesh and blood,
The past that lived and shall not live again.
This is the book. I dare not bid you read.
Too much of my poor soul you would unlock.
Your own soul, if it tender were, might bleed.
I could not bear that you should only mock.
My life lies here. And yet in vain, dear heart,
The tale is told. One page it yearns to see,
One play where one best actor should find part.
But that, alas for love! shall never be.
Yet, if a sign you seek between these lines,
One hidden lies for you, a sign of signs.

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Collection Sessions

Bring back my fantasies.
You can't take those from me!
I was born to believe in them.
Don't confuse the issue...
By introducing,
A reality that I refuse.

Bring back my fantasies.
Don't remove those concepts...
Or those needs.
I was raised to accept philosophies.
Based on beliefs,
My worth was purchased...
Financed, mortgaged and taxed
With a long term lease.

I was raised to have 'things' and things I wish.
Now I'm told none of this may soon exist?
Is this a joke?
Is there a punchline with it?
If there is I just don't get it!
But I have a degree to do what I please?
All my life,
I've been teased to acquire these!
As a remedy to obtain a life of ease.
And now your saying,
My piece of pie is denied?
And it has 'moments' left before it leaves?
Who put you up to this?
To lie to me?

Bring back my fantasies.
You can't take those from me!
I was born to believe in them.
Don't confuse the issue...
By introducing,
A reality that I refuse.

What will my neighbors think?
If I show nothing that I've gained?
With repossessions I face.
And everything to lose...
Except for my shame!
In collection sessions?
My life wasn't lived for that goal to aim!
Bring back my fantasies.
Why are you torturing only me?

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Jobism-According to Uncle Bob

'Jobism'
he said
'the real disease of the 2Oth century'
Bob was warming up to the topic.

'Now you take my grandfather,
what he wanted was his own piece of land
the ability to run his own life
he didn't work all his life for a job.
He worked for land and the independence
that land meant.

It has been that way for all of history of the human race.

From the cave man marking up the cave walls
to the rancher, the farmer
and the homesteader,
all we have ever wanted was a piece of land
to call our own.

My people came here to America not for a job
but for freedom.
Now we are settling for cubicles.

Mere one-hundred years ago
they taxed us off the land
gave to the corporations;
the farmers left the land,
got herded
into the dirty cities
plopped down into factories
becoming wage-slaves.

My Grandad is still bitter about that.

Now our kids are taught be good,
get a good education
and try to get a good wage-slave job.

One hundred years ago
it was get your own piece of land,
be independent,
don't be beholden to any man,

don't let the authorities run your life.
What a change huh?

This has had for more impact
than we think.
Hitler's minions asked why did they gas the Jews
and their answers were, 'it was my job.'

People in experiments will kill other people
if scientists in white lab coats tell them its ok to do so.

Whole nations go to war and maim
because somebody told them it was their job to do so.

Job one
means obedience is number two,
obedience to those that you might not ever obey
except for they tell you
obey me or your family starves.
or you can't get a good job.

We need to sever the wage-slave
from the job
which enslaves.

Cities never really worked
they create wealth for the few
and poverty for the many. Still does.

My idea, ' he said'
is I don't want no job:
I want independence.

Then he smiled.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Too Late

WHEN Love, sweet Love, was tangled in my snare
I clipped his wings, and dressed his cage with flowers,
Made him my little joy for little hours,
And fed him when I had a song to spare.
And then I saw how good life's good things were,
The kingdoms and the glories and the powers.
Flowers grew in sheaves and stars were shed in showers,
And, when the great things wearied, Love was there.

But when, within his cage, one winter day
I found him lying still with folded wings,
No longer fluttering, eager to be fed--
Kingdoms and powers and glories passed away,
And of life's countless, precious, priceless things
Nothing was left but Love--and Love was dead!

poem by Edith Nesbit
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Insinuations

There are many sides to determination.
And many are not too obviously displayed.
Like the ones who are determined by others,
Not to be impressive by appearances alone.

Those determining people like this,
Have no influence...
Are generally mistakened on the basis of their analogies.
Perhaps it is a college degree...
Or the schools such degrees were by some people received.

And there are those who are just determined to succeed.
On their own merit.
With a turning down of requests of assistance...
By those they care not to name drop.

Some people like to be in the company,
Of those they perceive are 'real.
No matter what they've got.
Or titles they may wear.
Eye or skin color or texture of hair.

People like these are not living their lives,
Based upon limitation or those kinds of insecurities.
With the acceptance and the acknowledgement...
A sexual performance got us all here!
With few, if any, exceptions open to debate!

'PLEASE!
Your insinuations are distasteful! '

Nope!
That's not one of the exceptions.