Listening to Their Lack of Facts
They claim to be in self defined exile.
Losing a grip on crushed realities.
None lived to believe in...
And still they wish them pleased.
Sitting on the brink of total change.
And they keep a faith...
Followed and fake.
Listening to their lack of facts,
From a brain that has missed the train...
Offers little satisfaction,
To those who aren't insane.
Exposed they are,
To show their consciousness.
And grateful to meet someone...
Doing the best that can be done.
Taking life as it comes...
Without the sharing of complaints.
Or trying to find some.
Busy bees with mental freezes...
Listening to their lack of facts.
In any season,
You'll see them in packs.
Discussing new blues!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Time Is Dead, Killed In Meetings 6.3.2008
I am swimming, swimming, swimming, just keep
swimming, swimming, swimming, one word and
one phrase at a time, though my consciousness
experiences total lack of context and absolute
meaninglessness, I have my brain in a vice-grip
and we are making the trip through the document;
a most amazing occurrence, mostly I fall into the
holes in the network filaments of reality, but today
the vice-grip is steady, just plowing forwards,
irrespective of isolation and complete lack of
perspective; life had become totally meaningless
and still the vice-grip is holding, keeping steady;
one word at a time, one phrase towards eternity,
doing my job, putting down words in a series
of meanings that will bring nobody joy, will not
be blessed by a reply, a piece of work that will
fall down and die sooner than it has been written;
if this is why we have human rights and why I
have been born, then the world has to be
destroyed, the sooner the better, wasting the
magical gift of consciousness on white and grey,
colorless words in bleak sentences reporting
facts cold and empty, facts that offer nobody
succor, that does not sing or resonate with
anything, simply report on a meaningless
meeting and planning one such another –
people killing time, time is dead, it has been
killed in millions of meaningless meetings
held everywhere…
poem by Margaret Alice
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Rapid Is The Information
Rapid is the information.
Too much perhaps,
But the facts are clear...
It is here.
Blurring the minds and fixed visions,
With such speed and precision.
And fearing are those who can not keep up.
With down on their luck blues to sing.
And nerves quickly plucked,
By their own closed and shut inhabitions!
Listening to tired conversations,
Wishing to manifest a redigesting...
Of yesterdays gone,
Is sad to witness and observe...
Such listlessness gone undisturbed,
By a jolt of motivation.
Or something that provokes slow pokes,
To ignite with urgency.
Was that served and deserved?
With an intent to have many feed their gut,
With gluttony.
And not their minds to fine tune,
With the times?
Rapid is the information.
Too much perhaps,
But the facts are clear...
It is here.
Leaving that and those 'tomorrows',
Far behind!
Faster than the batting of an eyelash!
And...
With the thoughts of them,
Easier to put off...'then'!
With the best of procrastination skills,
Many have adopted as professions.
But the facts are clear...
Whatever is here and experienced right now,
Is on the move.
It has 'already' gone!
And anyone desiring to torment themselves,
Because of it...
Will find they are not alone!
Others also made decisions to deny their dreams!
With hopes that tomorrow would do for them,
What today did not...
Do for them!
And just like all of those yesterdays they 'lived'...
Moaning and groaning,
To find excuses not to do it!
And to find that just as rewarding,
As the discovery of fresh complaints...
Is a waste of time to address.
These folks...
Are not the 'Oh! -I've-got-it-now' kind.
Rapid is the information.
Too much perhaps,
But the facts are clear...
It is here.
To distribute to those who receive it.
And not here to give attention,
To those who don't!
And THAT is 'thee' reality!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Regardless of the Lack of Proof
To cling to that which is changing,
Splits and widens the gap...
Between that which is wished,
And dismissing the honesty attached
With facts.
Some will choose to cling,
As if clinging onto what has gone
Brings back anything stronger than before.
Reality is ignored and slips from those insisting...
It isn't what it is.
And even though what it is, is missed?
Eyes refuse to acknowledge its existence.
Even if it sits in their faces to stare.
They cling onto visions.
Hoping that myths aren't just mental visitations,
They've become deluded with and overwhelmed.
Regardless of the lack of proof,
That eludes their aloofness that seeks to be soothed.
And pampered by a deludedness kept attractive!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No End to Be Evaded
When you slap someone,
Who slaps you back.
And you think they had no nerve,
To do you like that!
And you tell others,
You have been attacked!
Without sharing with them
The complete and total facts!
And you maintain your defense...
Without one hint of how it started!
Be prepared for the unexpected!
Since acts like this creates...
More hatred from a deed you caused!
With no end to be evaded.
And no exit one can make...
To fake to find a pause!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Zeitgeistlyrik: Winter Blues (Satis Shroff)
Winter blues,
Go away!
Season of short daylight,
Coughs and rheuma,
Wet, cold days.
Misty towns,
Snowbound Schwarzwald,
Season depression,
Winter blues.
This cold seasonal change
Influences your hormones.
The lack of sunlight,
Its warm and reassuring rays,
Reduces the endorphine
In your blood vessels.
Serotonin, which regulates
Our happy mental state,
Is sparingly there,
When we need it.
Daylight is the best cure,
For light seasonal depression.
You go for a walk,
Even when the weather
Is misty and wet.
You keep a balanced diet:
Fruits and vegetables,
To create good feelings,
And to avert colds.
But for those have
Endogenic depression?
Low appetite,
Weight loss,
Sleepless nights,
Increased melatonin,
Caused by a lack
Of sunshine,
Makes you tired:
Your activities are at a low.
If walks in the misty countryside
Or city parks don't help,
You have antidepressiva
As a last resort.
Ach, winter blues
poem by Satis Shroff
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Listening
Listening.
And being there for someone loved...
To do just that!
With a mind willing,
To be receptive and clear...
Of opinions sitting,
On the tip of one's tongue.
With a giving of attention,
And staying mum.
Listening to someone.
Listening is not easily done.
For those who have experienced...
A life in which peace of mind has come.
When a listening ear,
Had not been volunteered by no one.
And some who know this...
Do their best to sit with patience.
Listening with no other reason...
But to be there as is wished.
For someone who has selected you,
Just for this.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lack of Courage
Most days I feel
Like I am
Losing so much time
Sitting
Waiting
Hoping
For you to change
Never knowing quite for sure
If it is me or you that must change
Always believed that by
Not moving
Making no decision
Is the same as making one
Wondering if it is due to my lack of strength
Or no courage
To take those hits
That will happen if I choose
To move
Now
Wish I knew if this was truly my choice
Or one made only by lack of my courage
poem by Linda Engwall
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0013 And, Friend...
and if you wonder, friend, why I begin
a poem thus – you are to understand
that it’s as if
we have been close friends all our life,
friends, as Kabir defined a friend
as if no-one ever tried to speak of friend before –
friends, who share the silences between their words
as much as sharing their most inward thoughts;
so, our conversation’s just as much
a continuation of our friendship,
wasting no time in speaking passing things,
sharing some new thought in turn
and asking more for listening
than easy agreement for politeness’ sake;
for, we’re listening to the allness of the all -
all that has been said and
all that cannot yet be said
but thought in silences, in pauses between speech,
all that we might say
when we find words in which to say it,
and because
there’s not much time, to say what we would say
and so, we speak of that which time
can never steal; so there is always time
to speak, and hear the silence
out of which speech comes;
listening for the unspoken
bringing miracles
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Need A Little Taste Of Love
M. isley/e. isley/r. isley/
R. isley/o. isley/c. jasper
Hey mister, walkin with the blues
Hey sister, payin heavy dues
Havin troubles, and it aint so hard to find
When youre ridin double, and youre runnin out of time
No need to feel, that you lack the spirit
Within the body, but its in the soul
If you wanna be loved, then let somebody hear it
Might as well face the facts, no need to be holdin back
Need a little taste of love
Hey mister, tell me how long has it been
Hey sister, so how could you pretend
Why keep the sorrow, where it dont belong
Well come tomorrow, oh help me sing the song
No need to feel, that you lack the spirit
Within the body, but its in the soul
If you wanna be loved, then let somebody hear it
Might as well face the facts, no need to be holdin back
Need a little taste of love
song performed by by Doobie Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Bruises II
I can ponder upon the blackness,
the garrulous of silence
placated by benign solitude
I can endure the ostracizing
listening to lulling lullabies,
listening to trembling metals,
listening to enraptured echoes,
listening to a soundless shattering,
listening to nothingness,
listening to guffawing crows,
listening to diffident clocks,
listening to the waning time;
but am I the only one listening
to these black bruised whispers?
poem by Norman Santos
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Crosseyed & Painless
Lost my shape-trying to act casual!
Cant stop-i might end up in the hospital
Im changing my shape-i feel like an accident
Theyre back!-to explain their experience
Isnt it weird/looks too obscure to me
Wasting away/and that was their policy
Im ready to leave-i push the fact in front of me
Facts lost-facts are never what they seem to be
Nothing there!-no information left of any kind
Lifting my head-looking for danger signs
There was a line/there was a formula
Sharp as a knife/facts cut a hole in us
There was a line/there was a forula
Sharp as a knife/facts cut a hole in us
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
The feeling returns/whenever we close out eyes
Lifting my head/looking around inside
The island of doubt-its like the taste of medicine
Working by hindsight-got the message from the oxygen
Making a list-find the cost of opportunity
Doing it right-facts are useless in emergencies
The feeling returns/whenever we close out eyes
Lifting my head/looking around inside.
Facts are simple and facts are straight
Facts are lazy and facts are late
Facts all come with points of view
Facts dont do what I want them to
Facts just twist the truth around
Facts are living turned inside out
Facts are getting the best of them
Facts are nothing on the face of things
Facts dont stain the furniture
Facts go out and slam the door
Facts are written all over your face
Facts continue to change their shape
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Roll The Bones
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
Well, you can stake that claim --
Good work is the key to good fortune
Winners take that praise
Losers seldom take that blame
If they dont take that game
And sometimes the winner takes nothing
We draw our own designs
But fortune has to make that frame
We go out in the world and take our chances
Fate is just the weight of circumstances
Thats the way that lady luck dances
Roll the bones
Why are we here?
Because were here
Roll the bones
Why does it happen?
Because it happens
Roll the bones
Faith is cold as ice --
Why are little ones born only to suffer
For the want of immunity
Or a bowl of rice?
Well, who would hold a price
On the heads of the innocent children
If theres some immortal power
To control the dice?
We come into the world and take our chances
Fate is just the weight of circumstances
Thats the way that lady luck dances
Roll the bones
Jack -- relax.
Get busy with the facts.
No zodiacs or almanacs,
No maniacs in polyester slacks.
Just the facts.
Gonna kick some gluteus max.
Its a parallax -- you dig?
You move around
The small gets big. its a rig.
Its action -- reaction --
Random interaction.
So whos afraid
Of a little abstraction?
Cant get no satisfaction
From the facts?
You better run, homeboy --
A facts a fact
From nome to rome, boy.
Whats the deal? spin the wheel.
If the dice are hot -- take a shot.
Play your cards. show us what you got --
What youre holding.
If the cards are cold,
Dont go folding.
Lady luck is golden;
She favors the bold. thats cold.
Stop throwing stones --
The night has a thousand saxophones.
So get out there and rock,
And roll the bones.
Get busy!
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One's Beliefs
Beliefs aren't changed overnight,
Because of misdirection.
Beliefs are changed overnight,
When new ones are created.
Misdirection can be debated,
For reasons to entertain those who make changes.
But one's beliefs as they are...
Are only fed to keep them out of the way.
And kept faithfully attached,
For purposes to serve!
Not to discuss what are facts.
Beliefs aren't changed overnight,
Because of misdirection.
Beliefs are changed overnight,
When new ones are created.
Like one's knowledge of facts...
Depends on who is being pleased.
And for what reasons they've been directed,
To go first down on their knees,
Hoping to find their minds comforted.
And...
Beliefs,
As they are interpreted to be.
Aren't changed overnight,
Because of misdirection.
Beliefs are changed overnight,
When new ones are created.
To please and comfort the converted
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Facticity
What you are, what you had been
Are facts of you
Facticities: you cannot change
You once had,
You have no power over these
Facticities: Undoing, unbreaking,
Unmaking.unloving.
What you are going to be
What you want to become
What you want to have
to hold & to cherish
What you have to die for
What you long &
what you want to give
Are non-facts
Non-facticities:
They are being,
Be-ing
Becoming
And these are our hopes & our wishes & what we look forward to
A warm day tomorrow
A loved one faithful to you
The beloved
The beloved loving the beloved
These are the things we can still change
We can make
Death is a fact
What you do before death
Still belongs to the freedom of your hands
You are alive.
That is be-ing.
Be thankful.
Be always grateful.
Be strong.
Be the good self that you want to be.
These are not facts yet
They still belong to the freedom of your own hands
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Offending The Validity Of Truth
When it clearly appears those in denial,
Only choose to hear and see...
What it is they wish and want to believe,
The ones who are wasting their time...
Seem to be those people persistent,
In the underlining of the facts...
On huge and mounted neon signs,
Affixed everywhere to be seen in public.
Offending both the validity of dismissed truth,
As well as the many who claim...
Such activities are mentally abusive.
And affects the demands they present,
To have life lived from their perspective consented.
No matter who opposes the content of their entitlements,
With 'absurd' and outlandish realities they find to be pointless!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Saint I Ain't
If there is anyone seeking,
Anything in my life to taint?
I'll be the first to say...
A saint I ain't!
There is too much to explore.
Too much to experience,
Than to choose it to be ignored.
I want to adventure my life!
And that freedom nature offers.
And I can well afford.
Why should I deny myself...
To please those with their noses in the air?
With their stiff necks.
And their tight high lifted derrières!
People like that...
Can remove their behinds of my track.
The path on which I place my steps...
May shock others to hold their breath.
In fact...
Many like that,
Are busy body pests!
You know the kind...
Those who find time,
To wine and dine their displeasures.
As they pour someone's tea!
And I don't mind at all...
Serving up a full pot of my own for starters.
I want it known...
I can be quite cordial.
Even in the midst,
Of my own possible degradation.
I like to sit...
And listen to this mix of gossip.
The 'seriousness' of it...
Is worth a hasty limited visit.
I choose to do the unexpected.
With God's blessings,
Of course.
If there is anyone seeking,
Anything in my life to taint?
I'll be the first to say...
A saint I ain't!
Or profess to know,
What my 'Creator' wishes.
Like some hypocrites...
Quick to quip from scriptures.
I keep my eye on folks like that!
They can become defensive...
When questioned about their lack of facts.
Nor do I choose to walk on water.
Today...
I probably could.
Much of it is too polluted anyway.
Like some people with minds...
With nothing else to do,
But define how others should be living their lives.
Like 'themselves'...
Who have been certified self righteous.
And gossip as they sit in church pews.
Discussing where the pastor's wife,
Purchased her brand new shoes.
A saint I ain't.
Especially after observing...
Those who make claims,
They are the elite of 'christianity'.
And you can find them anywhere.
Once they have been seen...
Like roosters with hens pecking,
On any scene they pronounce as qualified...
For their self indulgence.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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None Else Can Make This Boast
How can religion head still rise
How are it’s sects yet fooled
When faith that’s based on man made lies
Is by the devil ruled
Religion says its prayers in vain
Their footing’s not on high
But Christ who died who rose again
Lives now no more to die
There’s no one else to make this boast
Not one from Heaven or earth
But Jesus through His Holy Ghost
The first with second birth
That man must die is plain to see
All flesh must meet the grave
But Christ states life; He’ll give us free
Through faith, man’s soul He’ll save
When minds this statement understand
When hearts accept these facts
Christ will raise to dwell His land
As in the book of acts
The facts are there they’re plain in view
The truth’s before our eyes
Through faith in Christ, we’re born anew
We’ve hope in Him to rise
We find these facts from deep inside
God’s Spirit leads to see
He comes to help He comes to guide
He comes as guarantee
He comes to those who’s hearts are true
Who’s faith in Christ is real
As sure as earth drinks morning dew
There’s life within God’s Seal…
poem by Michael P. Johnson
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S.O.S.
Is anybody listening?
Can they hear me when I call?
I'm shooting signals in the air
'Cause I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
So I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening
Listening
I'll be standing here and I'm miles away
Making signals hoping they'd save me
I lock myself inside these walls
'Cause out there I'm always wrong
I don't think I'm gonna make it
So while I'm sitting here
On the eve of my death bed
I'll write this letter and hope it saves me
Is anybody listening?
Can they hear me when I call?
Shooting signals in the air
'Cause I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
So I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening
Listening
I'm stuck in my own head and I'm oceans away
Would anybody notice if I chose to stay?
I'll send and SOS tonight
Wonder if I will survive
How in the hell did I get so far away this time
So now I'm sitting here
The time of my departure's near
I say a prayer
Please someone save me
Is anybody listening?
Can they hear me when I call?
Shooting signals in the air
'Cause I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
So I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening
Listening
I'm lost here
I can't make it on my own
I don't wanna die alone
I'm so scared
Drowning now
Reaching out
Holding on to everything I love
Crying out
Dying now
Need some help
Is anybody listening?
Can you hear me when I call?
Shooting signals in the air
I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening?
song performed by by Good Charlotte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gaza Poem-who Wants War? Lets See The Facts And Not Igonre
ISRAEL WANTS PEACE
GAZA WANTS WAR
LETS SEE THE FACTS AND NOT IGONRE
WHO WANTS WAR?
WHOSE TANKS ARE TOWARDS WHOSE DOOR?
LETS SEE THE FACTS AND NOT IGONRE
WHO WANTS WAR?
WHOSE WARSHIPS ON WHOSE SHORE?
LETS SEE THE FACTS AND NOT IGONRE
WHO WANTS WAR?
WHOSE SOLDIERS ARE CALLED IN MORE & MORE?
LETS SEE THE FACTS AND NOT IGONRE
WHO WANTS WAR?
WHOSE VILLAGES ARE DESTROYED - BOMBS IN POUR?
LETS SEE THE FACTS AND NOT IGONRE
WHO WANTS WAR?
WHOSE BODIES ARE IN BITS AND PIECES TORE?
LETS SEE THE FACTS AND NOT IGONRE
WHO WANTS WAR?
WHOSE HOSPITALS ARE FILLED WITH DEFACED CORP?
LETS SEE THE FACTS AND NOT IGONRE
WHO WANTS WAR?
212,387,991 DEAD BODIES STACK UP… …CAN U IMAGINE THE SCORE?
LETS SEE THE FACTS AND NOT IGONRE
WHO WANTS WAR?
CANT U SEE ANYMORE?
ISRAEL WANTS WAR!
YOU SEE THE FACTS AND IGNORE
poem by Noor Alkhatib
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The More I Chose to Notice It
People demand to hear me say...
'I am lonely.'
Because I live alone.
With peace of mind,
I own.
People with lack of vision,
And with no understanding claim...
Those who are comfortable with themselves,
Have to be hard to deal with.
Either that...or insane.
But it's not that I've chosen my peace of mind.
It seems through chaos to me it came.
And the more I chose to notice it...
Something in me has not been the same.
People demand to hear me say...
'I am lonely.'
Because I live alone.
With peace of mind,
I own.
People with lack of vision,
And with no understanding claim...
Those who are comfortable with themselves,
Have to be hard to deal with.
Either that...or insane.
And I remain committed,
Not to listen to those limited.
Or of lame brain.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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