Loose and Abandoned
What mental issues do those folks,
Who intentionally provoke others really have?
Especially the elders who do things to irritate,
And believe their doings should be accepted and appreciated,
By the ones they've annoyed.
The foundation where the house sits,
Is not perfectly balanced.
And in the attic something rolls around,
That should have long been found and grounded...
Before it was determined to be loose and abandoned.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
This House
(nile rodgers)
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
Our toys are in the attic baby
Pictures on the wall
We can see our memories
From the days past in the mirror
Down the hall, oh yeah
Our love will survive in our own little paradise
So inspired, so inspired
Palatial it may not be
But its a home and a castle to me
A dream from a magazine
And well never give it up cause
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
Ill try to comfort you baby
You try to comfort me yeah
I know you love me
With all your heart, oh yeah
cause you say you do
You know that when you are sad
Ill be there in a flash
At the drop of a hat, oh yeah
cause I want you to feel love
And you dont have to say a thing
You dont have to ask, cause baby
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
Maybe well strike it rich
One day really make it big
And I know because our love is so strong
Well always have a home
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Darkness On The Edge Of Town
Theyre still racing out at the trestles
But that blood it never burned in her veins
Now I hear shes got a house up in fairview
And a style shes trying to maintain
Well if she wants to see me
You can tell her that Im easily found
Tell her theres a spot out 'neath abrams bridge
And tell her theres a darkness on the edge of town
Everybodys got a secret sonny
Something that they just cant face
Some folks spend their whole lives trying to keep it
They carry it with them every step that they take
Till some day they just cut it loose
Cut it loose or let it drag 'em down
Where no one asks any questions
Or looks too long in your face
In the darkness on the edge of town
Some folks are born into a good life
Other folks get it anyway anyhow
I lost my money and I lost my wife
Them things dont seem to matter much to me now
Tonight Ill be on that hill 'cause I cant stop
Ill be on that hill with everything I got
Lives on the line where dreams are found and lost
Ill be there on time and Ill pay the cost
For wanting things that can only be found
In the darkness on the edge of town
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Puberty.
When my grandma told me not to go out of the house,
after the oil lamp was lit at six in the evening,
I went out to see the spirits of the wolves on the loose,
but heard the howling far away while she praying.
Grandma thought I was in the study, doing my work,
I was searching for the devils that scared my grandma.
When I returned to tell her that I found nothing,
She blessed me what an obedient girl, always obeying.
When at ten, I was told that there was a black devil,
comfortably renting a Neem tree beside our dwelling,
after everyone was asleep, I went to the tree at twelve,
to find nothing and I was confused and then not believe,
my elders any more. Told them many times,
I have found no spirits and devils,
in the trees, in the farms and the jungle,
They were too tired to teach me what they were taught,
when they had given up the hope on me,
I planted the seeds of awareness in them.
When my elders had the nap after the heavy meal,
we, the children, sneaked out of the house,
to play marbles, hide and seek kites and
snake and ladder. After play we used,
to go to the Garden our king built for his children,
where we found muddy water, fragrant trees and
the Lecherous males who tried to touch our budding breasts.
Then one day our wings were cut off,
by pouring the turmeric water on our heads,
tied the long saree on the slender body,
put the perfect jasmine on our hair,
decorated as the prettiest doll that they could,
We had lost our freedom and,
our elders are awake.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not Sitting Around Waiting to Be Examined
Folks who wish they knew more about others and don't...
Say those like this are 'complicated'.
Nothing is complicated about someone who lives an active life.
Folks find them 'complicated' for this reason...
They are not sitting around waiting to be examined.
Although they may be gossiped about...
Very few of them are living lives with issues!
And if they do...
They seem to move on with them being handled.
Without communal get togethers.
On the other hand,
Folks who claim to know what's going on...
Will say they are not interested in politics.
But can tell you who did what to who and when,
Next door and down the block.
Their noses aren't going to travel too far!
That wouldn't be to the best of their interest.
And self indulgence is their main priority.
People on missions to get things done,
Are not in one place to be observed.
And they aren't living to receive acceptance.
They are here to achieve.
Not bleed another heart!
Or found huddled in groups,
Prepared to victimize one of their own kind.
For being disliked.
So disliked that person can not be ignored.
That person has to be agitated into conflict!
Unfortunately,
There aren't too many people like these.
People on the move...
With things to get accomplished.
Things they want to get done and do.
Those 'programmed' to be far less complicated!
And quick to ruin themselves.
And their quality of life...
By not paying attention to the decline of it!
Leave evidence and facts of that in abundance!
And they are hopeful President Obama produces a magic wand!
~He 'needs' to produce,
A Department to Combat the Onset of Mental Diseases.
And their long range affects on a programmed mindset! ~
That title is too long.
They are already accusing him of being too intelligent.
For a Black man...that is!
Even under a microscope,
They are trying to uncover his flaws.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Something Loose Has Not Been Grounded
You interfere too much,
In other's growth process.
And your assessment of life,
Is limited at best.
Hypocritical and blasphemous,
You quote from scriptures...
But your own life you cuss.
With a daily disapproval....
Close to being diagnosed as bi-polar.
Something loose has not been grounded.
What makes you think others,
Are attracted to you?
What makes you think...
Your constant negativity,
Is a desired longing,
As one's dream come true!
Something loose has not been grounded.
Something loose has flown the coop.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Speculation
The right things done by some...
Does not right things done,
By everyone.
Rituals performed...
May leave a feeling of forlorn,
Adorned by those addicted to agitation.
Especially In situations accepted as an adulation!
'Adulation?
What is there to admire,
In this mental infestation?
This dismiss of motivation...
Should have long expired.
Examined for its faults and left retired!
Many see this as a manifestation!
A certain suffering,
That brings 'closure' to most things.
It's the opposite of expecting blessings and gifts!
To be denied in some eyes...
Brings about a restoration,
And leaves one rejuvenized!
'Like a holding onto a stubborness...
By someone who knows this isn't the best,
Yet sits unresisting
In some kind of personal conquest? '
The right things done by some...
Does not right things done,
By everyone.
Rituals performed...
May leave a feeling of forlorn,
Adorned by those addicted to agitation.
Especially In situations accepted as an adulation!
In speculation this will solve all situations!
And a praise will be bestowed,
Since this disposition is the one they chose!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Everything's very perfectly balanced; for all the horrible things in the world there's lots of good things.
quote by John Frusciante
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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No One Had Noticed Any Signs Of Abnormalties
The suspect has a history of mental issues.
And the historian keeping those records,
Has been determined to be dysfunctional.
Therefore...
It is extremely difficult to provide any evidence,
Since no one had noticed any signs of abnormalties.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That's 'Almost' Funny
If one does anything perceived,
That gets an attention one deserves...
There will be envy expressed.
Or a sarcasm heard.
If one looks a certain way,
That hints of beauty...
Or an accepted physical presence,
There will be envy shown.
Or a 'player' hating comment thrown.
Forget about feelings of emotions felt.
Forget about struggles one is dealed and dealt.
Forget about living the process of life itself.
If it was about looks and what it took to survive...
Very few who victimize would not be around,
Expressing envy, jealousy...
Or rolling their nonproductive eyes.
Folks who provoke and poke their jokes,
Do more lieing than trying to invoke good strokes.
'That's some 'light' stuff!
Is your poetry on a diet? '
That's 'almost' funny.
It must be the season of the Easter Bunny?
I rate that one 'ha' with two hees.
Followed with a 'mind-your-business'.
Leave!
On a serious note...
You irritate me.
ANYWAY...
If one does anything perceived,
That gets an attention one deserves...
There will be envy expressed.
Or a sarcasm heard.
If one looks a certain way,
That hints of beauty...
Or an accepted physical presence,
There will be envy shown.
Or a 'player' hating comment thrown.
'To an 'ego' known.
Overblown.'
You have a lot of time to do absolutely 'nothing'.
'And with a 'nothingness' done,
You have achieved 'some' success.'
Buzz off!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Integrity and Backbone
Priorities invested in the physical attributes of things,
And those who place their long lasting impressions...
Upon material appearances supporting their self importance,
Belong to the ones doing the best they can...
To pool their pretensions...
Into locales where deceptions are still praised for what they are.
Since truth alone is on a mission!
And has come to devastate and devalue,
Their mental securities...
Based purely on materialism.
And these folks know how fake their realities have been.
It has become too obvious...
That the absence of integrity and backbone,
Has not been added to the foundation of their achievements!
Nor recognized as something to accomplish.
And with masquerade they continue their run!
But to where?
Too many have become aware of their failed antics.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Built This House
I built this house from its foundation
It's foundation I made it strong
So that it can't be shaken
By anything
I built this house
On love
Not on lies
I built this house
I turned it into a home
And that was my vision
I built this house
Just like a wise woman
A woman who builds a house on a foundation of a rock
Not like a foolish woman
Who builds a house
On a sand
And then turns and destroys it with her hands
I won't allow anything to break it down
To break my children and my husband
With nonsense
With arguments, alcohol and unfaithfulness
So devil you better live
Cause I built this house
On top of the rock Jesus
poem by Vangile Mtyali
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Mistuh Pahtillah
The name doesn't describe a gorilla.
Or startle with facts,
Like an action drama that is also a thriller.
I can get quite silly when pronoucing my name...
Since those I'm related to
Pronounce my last name,
Like they think they should
And some do as a game!
Pahtalier, Pahtilla, Pahtalah, Purtiller.
Puerteller, Pertillar, Partiller, Pertillaaah.
And giving me what they think I need...
Either long stares or a quick flash of a nod!
To confirm approval or something else odd!
It is so comfortable to be
In a peace of mind that lets things be!
When someone stops to ask,
'Where the hell you get that name from? '
I will gather my dignity then respond...
With my heritage light on!
I am not my name!
The one I was labelled with!
Nor am I a game.
I wont be annoyed intentionally.
Not for the shame of it to this degree!
You can call me and suggest
How best I can put my right foot forward!
Followed by my left!
But the name that you call...
Has to suit to protect our peaceful walls!
That's all!
I'm not looking through you...
As you look as if you can throw me away!
You have strayed away from getting too tender.
Your ancestors made me and those like me,
The one you once abused worse than any enemy!
And forgiveness has made a few of us friends...
Again!
But then again...
I am not my name!
The one I was labelled with!
Nor am I a game.
I wont be annoyed intentionally.
Nor make further wishes
That you should look deeper
Into me and 'see'! ...Me!
Call me what you wish!
But if you think I deserve more respect!
The kind you believe I don't often get.
'Mister Pahtillah' will do fine!
That will put you on my good side...
And we will be in the same frame of mind.
'Mistuh Pahtillah' will do fine!
And someone with a thought or two,
Will begin to think they know me...
And/or you too!
'He think he is Fabulous and Phat!
He thinks he can do anything...
And be All That!
He thinks he could become
A very wealthy man!
Skipping far ahead of the red sign
Dipping his mind on 'trappings' for this 'cat'!
Black and hospitable!
He has known he knew himself inside.
He doesn't need to be labelized.
What he knows is what he does...
And he does it to do it well!
And for me that name means family.
Some may someday 'get it'
And get with it! Or forget it.
Others never cared.
And that should be obvious...
To those aware!
Much of what we have...
Did not come from 'over there! '
Is there something being done,
About what it is that get's in your hair?
I am not my name!
The one I was labelled with!
Nor am I a game.
I wont be annoyed intentionally.
Not for the shame of it to this degree!
'Is this microphone turned off? '
I'm getting scannings and stares.
Nothing is showing in these eyes...
And nothing said is being recognized!
I can't even tell if any of them are aware
I am up here and in their faces.
And few of them make eye contact.
Although attracted they are...
But not to me!
'Is this microphone on? '
I am not my name!
How do I get them...
Inside of me,
To touch?
How is that broken down?
Let's take off our masks,
And throw them onto the ground!
Perhaps with that task...
We will see reflected,
A familiarity accepted!
Something once rejected...
Is now being suspected
That it should be inspected closer.
Call me what you wish!
But if you think I deserve more respect!
The kind you believe I don't often get.
'Mister Pahtillah' will do fine!
That will put you on my good side...
And we will be in the same frame of mind.
'Mister Pahtillah' will do just fine!
I am not my name!
Nor am I a game...
To play losing whims!
With those who can't decide...
Whether to be a Fee Fi or a Foe!
And someone shouts out,
Holding up their right hand...
I have three.
I have four.
And also five.
And he runs closer
'Mistuh Pahtillah...
I played three fo's last night!
That needs to come out! '
They call me Mistuh Pahtillah!
Mistuh Pahtillah.
They call me Mistuh Pahtillah!
I am not my name but they call me,
Mistuh Pahtillah...Mistuh Pahtilluh.
Mistuh Pahtilluh.
I am not my name but they call me...
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Knell Of Our Love
The things we all wished for,
The storm came and take away,
Was it the work of nature,
Or maybe the schemes of your hands,
Such insinuations thwarted everything,
Im a man gathering confidence,
Let the elders ring the knell
The war I thought I could fight,
Yet the pain I couldnt sustain,
To be so adamant in all undertakings,
Blinded by my own surreal thoughts,
I have gathered my boldness,
Let the elders ring the knell of our love
I couldnt bring the stars for you,
But I could talk the stars for you,
To always see none like you,
But to receive you gave a few,
I waited in the long queue,
I have accepted its passed and through,
Hear the sound of copper bells,
The elders ringing death knells
Death is an enemy to us,
Yet life was painful to me,
Such our love unto life life,
Better the death of a warrior,
Than the life of a slave,
Elders I seek thee,
Sound the death knell I beg
The fall of my heart before your feet,
The memories so shall you recall,
The days of the long poems,
The months of the good love,
The night of the Judas kiss,
I forgive you for the faake promises,
You were bound to deceive me,
Yet I was bound to love you,
Now the books should be closed,
The hammer should hit the ground,
Elders silence the failing love,
Let the knells ring aloud
The birds should fly and fly,
When we will cry and cry,
This love will die and die,
The transition shall be evident,
I cant walk a mile,
While you stand and smile,
I choose the knell,
Hear my call you elders
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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Once The Fog Had Lifted
Traveling through fog,
With a clogged mind determined...
That a combination would not present,
To deliver only what a blindness does.
An unexpected clearing of an obstacle that sits.
To then awaken one with the realization...
That a choice to avoid it,
Would have been a thought providing valued meaning...
Once the fog from a determined and clogged mind,
Had been given time to lift!
And once the fog had lifted,
A determined and clogged mind...
Might have found time to prepare for any obstacle presented.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Home
It is not a house, and so it is not a piece
Of structure, not the roof or
The floor
Or the kitchen or the living room,
My home is where I grow
Wherever it is
Where I become fully myself
Alive &
Prosperous in my endeavors
It is where my most important
Work is started
And finished and
Appreciated
In this sense my home becomes
A certain place
Where I am accepted
& affirmed
& appreciated
Where I have self-esteem
Where I
Do not feel this sense of
Sickness & death
This alienation
It is when I travel so far
Searching
And it is where
I must return and always desiring
& dreaming
To be back
And find it again
With all anticipation
This is also my home
My home is not what I buy
And pay
It is what I made
For myself
My personal touch
My own way of showing
What I am
And can be
And as one what one writer once wisely puts it
My home is not a house
It is me
It is people
It is the people around me
It is the love that I give
And they give in return
That makes
My home and it is where
Despite everything
That I am truly
Always
Homeward bound.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rewriting a Constitution
A beauty booted!
Those gracious skies...
Have swollen eyes,
These past few chapters lived.
A blight has come to rust a trust!
A unification of a nation tatters.
It matters.
And a rush to crush this nation,
Must be snapped back from this slow molasses trap!
Arresting this fascination that splits,
The nitwits from the misfits.
In a furthering division,
Sliding away from a unifying pride.
Don't deny your tears.
Cry!
These are the lives today we live.
Undignified!
There is no glory,
In welcoming an accepted ignorance.
To uphold in bold cursing.
While a demise driven by the blinded...
Rehearse the unwinding of it!
In isolated sickness as if in bliss.
Rewriting a constitution...
May be the solution to divert a destitution,
Of what had been great or appreciated.
Before salivating on fantasies began!
Recreating a wheel needing healing...
Will not repair the spokes of it!
Or strengthen the folks joking,
As the cracks of its foundation widen without regard.
And taken too much for granted for too long,
For the wrong reasons!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No-one
In my big old lonely house
I often hear things that aren't really there
For example the rustle of my paper
As no-one sits in my chair
And the squeak of old rusty floorboards
As no-one goes up the stairs
In my big old lonely house
I see things that don't exist
Like the wagging tail of a young Border Collie
As by the boiler no-one sits
Or a piece of fresh green mistletoe
Under which no-one kissed
In my big old lonely house
I smell things, but it's just lies
Maybe the rich heavy fumes of petrol
As up the road no-one drives
And the lovely sweet scent of perfume
As no-one sprays annoying flies
In my big old lonely house
I feel like I'm not really here
And now, here all on my own
I'm turning into no-one I fear
For I am old, and I am dying
And when I scream, no-one hears
poem by Amy Darnbrook
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Those Who Annoint Themselves Qualified
What institutions do you have left,
That are steadfast and valid?
Hmmm,
Well...
The only ones that seem,
To have stood the test of time...
Are your 'mental institutions'.
However...
I do question their validity.
Since those who annoint themselves qualified,
To determine 'who' has mental issues...
Are the very ones responsible for the cause.
Happening at such alarming rates.
And I am glad you have asked me that question.
It just occurred to me...
Those who annoint themselves qualified,
To determine 'who' has mental issues...
Do so to keep themselves employed.
And...
Advocated for reasons why additional funding is needed,
To keep rehabilitation programs updated.
With the hiring of more qualified personnel a recommendation.
How clever.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Enfolding
where the threat is exposed,
where the coping deteriorates,
where critters from the attic are let loose
procreating without our consent,
where everyone runs at their own pace
from the lives they have perceived.
no longer protecting against carnivores
in this day and age;
no longer tangible intimidations
in this day and age;
we have have been slowly but surely knitting
our own mental terrorism.
poem by Chris Jelens
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Whatever It Is Determined To Be
It can only be appreciated for what it is,
As it is existing.
To wish for it to become something that it isn't...
Doesn't give it more value.
Or will ever increase its worth.
Not to the one observing...
And diminishing it with wishes.
The one who comes to cherish it as is...
Is the one who sees it as a benefit!
Whatever it is determined to be...
And by who determines it,
Makes it precious.
A priceless commodity.
Praised.
And a much sought after need,
Once that has been determined.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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