Maestro of Fiascoes
There is a culture of deceit,
They are trying to quickly fix!
Doing the best they can...
To erase their involvement with it!
A complete devastation,
Of their own way of life...
Has been blamed on terriorists.
Threatening to remove their values...
From their sight.
Never again to exist!
An orchestrated doom...
Created to initiate a one world rule.
And the infliction of fear,
Has been the ideal used.
As a failing infrastructure,
Threatens more than purported terrorists.
There are naturalized citizens...
Grieving over addicted beliefs.
With an insisted persistence.
And from them they can not retreat.
And the maestro of fiascoes...
Soon will hand his baton to another who will lead.
One who comes with common sense misunderstood.
Since a dumping of convenient conflicts...
Have been intended for the culprits responsible this,
To leave through an exit with ease!
Very foolish are their treason deeds.
To percieve a fleeing...
Will find them isolated free to enjoy,
A lifetime of peace.
Players like these will not on this Earth see!
Believing they have not been marked...
For mental haunting!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Why Fight Terrorism?
No nation can try to be both
A haven to terrorists and
A heaven to its citizens!
Nations mustn’t use the terrorists
To fight a proxy war for them
With neighbors over all disputes!
‘Violence begets violence! ’ ’Tis told.
Mere wars can’t usher peace on earth;
Love of brethren must rule all hearts!
The terrorists whom you support
Could ruin your own country too!
Root out terrorism in truth!
Terrorists are mere insane men!
They’re distraught, dissatisfied ones,
Who kill ruthlessly and get killed!
The bomb-culture and abductions
Must be fought relentlessly to
Free the world for peaceful men!
Unite against the terrorists!
Religion shouldn’t slacken your move;
The right to life belongs to all!
All terrorists are keen to kill,
And are willing to die as well!
‘Make world free of terrorism! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 10-18-2009
poem by John Celes
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Maestro
Why is that guy back again to play the Flute?
He was among the French Horn players,
For many years.
Back then he was hotly pursued.
What is this all about?
The audience stirs with curiosity.
I admit...
I too am inquisitive.
'Perhaps it has all been orchestrated.
I've noticed this new 'maestro'...
Has a unique approach to sound.
And how that sound is produced.
He certainly uses that baton,
Like one no one has ever seen before.'
I've begun to notice,
How his footprint is being implemented...
Quite effectively.
To leave 'this' orchestration,
One to be forever remembered.
And with hardly any opposition.
What is the title of this new composition,
Arranged by this young maestro.
'Let The Sun Rise And Set Over Hawaii'
Interesting.
Very, very interesting.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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Collected Madness Accepted
As you read this...
The wicked witches have brewed their fix.
Conflicts have addicted an avoidance to mix...
Those who adventured to trick with splits,
And those who prefer to be left in quiet sits.
Agitating divisions have increased.
Relationships have since decreased.
Backbiting has found itself on the rise.
And the shallow minded now are the ones to cry!
As you read this...
Those of higher consciousness continue to resist,
An obvious planting of encouraged dementedness.
And a struggle to hold onto values crumbling to the ground...
Scattering those responsible,
For a quality of life lost...
Never again to be ever found.
Since a racistness supporting a separateness...
Had followers believing,
This greed they fed would leave them receiving...
The benefits of threatened interests!
And it has...
Left them!
In a unified and collected,
Madness accepted!
Inflicted to intervene with rumors of peace.
Sold to protestors to wear on tee shirts...
Marketed and released!
For a price to pay.
As you read this day after day.
Numbing these events...
That come to stun and are here to stay!
Unless those brave,
Confront them with mental strength.
To condense them,
And erase them away!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Beliefs
Even though people hold unto beliefs,
They will declare exist.
With interpretations of them.
Like a peace wished to exist.
Isn't that a belief?
Why is it resisted?
There are those with beliefs of love and hate.
With more hating to believe
There is a weakness expressed,
When one confesses to have love.
There is a sickness some accept,
Because someone has said
Sickness for them is to be expected.
Even though people hold unto beliefs,
They will declare exist.
With interpretations of them.
Like a peace wished to exist.
Isn't that a belief?
Why is it resisted?
And why is it some create their own conflicts?
As if not to do them
They will be neglected.
As if to exit from them with belief
A love and peace shared by all,
Will one day by all be accepted.
Isn't that a belief?
Why is it resisted?
And whose beliefs,
Have been made more realistic?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Strike Up The Band
Strike up the band.
Do not permit us for another moment to sit.
You have already persisted...
You are the maestro of your gifts!
So strike up that band.
Come forward and produce your talents.
We insist.
At least reveal the evidence,
You have 'it' and they exist.
Too many have serviced us with lip.
And you have staged an entrance,
With...
Wishes from us to see you exit through it.
Take the baton in your hand.
And lead us through...
How your hard work and sacrifice,
With a mix of sweat and paid dues...
Has developed with an appetite,
That will inspire and delight too!
And prove you are worthy,
To command with deed.
Or leave the spotlight...
That feeds more of your ego,
Than any initiative given.
And this is not perceived.
It is a vivid observation.
You appear the only one here,
Who can not 'see'!
So strike up that band.
Too many are serious.
And prepared they are...
To take a stand!
Command what you have.
Or leave!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mind Fed Rituals
When determined people,
Pray to God to have their way...
And God sends to them messengers,
To scream from bullhorns...
This is not going to happen.
Leave people like this.
Do not attempt to make bargains...
With the use of common sense.
Leave people like this.
These people only value,
The physical aspects of life.
People like this will make their mission,
To enlist others to value their point of view.
Even to select and depict those unknowing,
They have been chosen as culprits...
By someone who did not like,
How they were told...
To remove their rose colored glasses!
Leave people like this.
Do not attempt to make bargains...
With the use of common sense.
Leave people like this.
These people only value,
The physical aspects of life.
And the 'spiritual' side of it...
Is a routine of mind fed rituals,
Outdated by a lack indepth perception.
Leave people like this.
Do not attempt to make bargains...
With the use of common sense.
A common sense for many,
That has been diluted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Want to Exist- Mary's Story
Answer me this;
riddle me that;
enigma-surrounded
I retreat,
to the isolated and the cruel snide
for solace
against you and others
who
think this is a debate,
or argument,
when for me
it is about
whether I exist.
No, gentlemen,
ladies we engage here
not in idle gossip wars
for me this is more serious
and masks,
despite my telling my self
it is less than that,
in fact,
for me
mental survival is at stake here;
all the more so
when I see it is not that way for thee;
it makes me feel smaller still
that you can play with life
indeed, even in this conversation;
as if for you
nothing is a stake;
oblivious to,
that for me,
all is at risk;
the half-healed wound
stabbed again.
There is no quarter here
asked for
or given;
you must die metaphorically
for me
to have just one moment
to exist;
as I resist
illogically
to save myself.
All this
I know
sounds crazy;
through all this
I am aware
that none of it makes sense;
But if I had control
I would resist.
But the point is
I don't
and I can't
and I must save
not only myself
but all the others too
to avoid the mental obituary
that life
seeks to write for me and them
every day, each day, in every situation.
They are playing for the joy of the game;
I am playing for the right to exist.
Crazy?
I know.
I don't know what is wrong with them.
Why can't they see
what they are doing to me?
Why are they so out of touch
with reality?
Tell me who is the crazy one?
Why is my reality
the crazy one?
This rule makes no sense.
It is
well
crazy
to deny me
what I need to exist-
which is
after all
the need to
maintain my dignity
in the face of the
brutal facts of my life;
I really don't matter; ,
no special talents
one among a mass
average-
when
everyone says
I should be special
in some way
but
in fact I know I am not-
I am average,
barely
having
a rationale to exist.
There it is.
So does this all mean
I have no value?
No, I exist.
There is the problem:
people treat me
at though
I don't.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A Serving Of More Hors d'oeuvres
The only thing that is not working for them,
Is the accusation that someone else...
Created their devastation.
And...
How could that be?
When...
No one was invited to feast with greed,
Or feed on deceit...
That did not meet to their approval.
And those the people have chosen to lead...
Are blamed for not providing to supply,
A serving of more hors d'oeuvres.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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London Stone
WHEN you come to London Town,
(Grieving-grieving!)
Bring your flowers and lay them down
At the place of grieving.
When you come to London Town,
(Grieving-grieving!)
Bow your head and mourn your own,
With the others grieving.
For those minutes, let it wake
(Grieving-grieving!)
All the empty-heart and ache
That is not cured by grieving.
For those minutes, tell no lie:
(Grieving-grieving!)
'Grave, this is thy victory;
And the sting of death is grieving.'
Where's our help, from earth or heaven,
(Grieving-grieving!)
To comfort us for what we've given,
And only gained the grieving.
Heaven's too far and earth too near,
(Grieving-grieving!)
But our neighbour's standing here,
Grieving as we're grieving.
What's his burden every day?
(Grieving-grieving!)
Nothing man can count or weigh,
But loss and love's own grieving.
What is the tie betwixt us two
(Grieving-grieving!)
That must last our whole lives through?
'As I suffer, so do you.'
That may ease the grieving.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Era Freed
That strangle hold of deceit,
Released.
A ray of Sun appears,
Through the cracks of doors...
Slowly opening.
Tears are drying from needless wars.
And the urge to address...
The presence of conflicts,
Once pressed upon hearts...
Suppressed with burdens,
Lift to erase fear from faces.
An era freed of thieves and treason...
Comes.
Bold and daring.
And equipped to whip,
Those losing their hold on demonicness.
There is no place for evil to exist!
An era freed of thieves and treason...
Comes.
And those who choose to know it...
Will lay down their weapons in defeat!
'These are My people!
And you will let them go!
Or prepare to pay the price...
In your defiance! '
Sayeth 'The Voice' that speaks.
Witnessed by those who see...
An era freed,
From the misdeeds of wickedness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Instantly Free Me From Feelings of Guilt
So personal I take my own pain.
Physical, mental.
Whatever the process...
There is nothing like doing it,
In the comfort of one's own home.
I forget sometimes,
I am suppose to dismiss it...
Whenever I am approached,
To give someone my undivided attention.
With their immediate imposition on my time,
Taken.
And unconsciously...
I quickly open my door,
As if to welcome the entire Universe for tea!
'I'm sorry to disturb you.
Is this a bad time? '
Oh? Uh...uh...
I forget sometimes,
My needs are less important...
For someone expecting me,
To dropp my priorities and focus my attention...
On their needs.
Or whatever it is they wish to share,
Immediately!
Uh...oh...No!
I was just enjoying minding my own business.
Sitting in my own space.
And hoping to have this moment...
Alone.
Drinking tea and enjoying music I love.
What on Earth was I thinking?
Company!
That's what's missing.
Company!
Come on in.
And after they have finished,
Squeezing every emotion out of me...
It seems.
I forget sometimes,
I am being tested.
I forget sometimes,
Even in my solitude...
Where the peace I love is graced,
There will be someone who believes...
Any pain I face to attempt to erase,
Needs more of their presence in my face.
With the dumping of their agonies.
So with the taking of slow deep breaths,
I sit.
Doing my best to reflect patience.
And hoping there is no notice given,
To an enforced hospitality.
'Thank you, my brother.
You have no idea how much your listening ear,
Has left me with so much peace.
I leave you now,
With the wish that God blesses you.
'Cause you know HE is good?
AND 'all' the time.
All you have to do is remember that!
You are 'never' alone.
Remember that in your prayers.
You don't have to sit mopping around.
As if you are friendless.
God is there for you.
Just remember that.
It's such a beautiful day.
I feel less burdened.
I think I'll go for a walk!
God bless.'
Even in my solitude...
Where the peace I love is graced.
There will be someone who believes,
Any pain I face to attempt to erase...
Needs more of their presence in my face.
With the dumping of their agonies.
I'll keep that in mind...my brother.
I'm glad I was able to assist!
Anytime.
Just 'pop' in anytime you wish.
'Keep God alive!
That's all you need to do.
Keep God ALIVE.'
GOD,
Please remove me from the lieing.
Or let me pretend I am not at home,
The 'next' time this happens.
And You instantly free me from feelings of guilt.
Of this...
Dear Father,
I will be eternally grateful.
Amen.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Look Backward
There is no use going forward
Where we have nothing but hollow words
Only promises but with no more bright future
Even our existence is no more stable or sure
Where are we heading for?
Towards total peace or intermittent war!
Casualties to count more than war times!
One is compelled to think seriously sometimes
Thousands of people die on the name of ideology
It is worst crime than to destroy the ecology
How human mind can again be made fertile?
Fed with ideas that are in real sense worthwhile
Travel from one end of the universe to another
The storms of all kinds don’t seem to wither
Daily it plays havoc with our mental system
How long and relentlessly we go on thinking about them?
We will have to come back or return to nature
Original place from where we had learnt about future
To advance for the betterment of mankind
But today not a fraction of it is available to find
No a single soul wants to live under fear
We have spent ages to come so near
Today we wish to live without any fear
But destruction and uncertainty is seen everywhere
World doesn’t belong to us any more
It has become distinct possibility therefore
Who knows when world will return to normalcy?
Will it be made possible by way of diplomacy?
Free exchanges and tolerance is the key to peace
Now people to people contacts are almost not at ease
There prevails distrust and hatred for certain races
Let us not leave behind heritage with such traces
No one will benefit but people at large may suffer
We will have nothing on hand to enjoy and to offer
Why not at least on God’s name we try to adjust and co-exist
Without maintaining any kind of acrimony or giving the twist
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Habitually Fixed
People addicted to nonsense,
Are no different than those addicted to crack.
Or any other sedation that medicates.
Dumbed down and seeking entertaining escapades.
And afraid of any thought process,
That causes comprehension.
Or communicating some of that might exist.
People addicted to nonsense,
Prefer to see a disagreement with their ideologies...
As confrontations..
With a nothingness with someone in this mindset,
That ever gets done.
Dumbed down and seeking entertaining escapades.
And afraid of any thought process,
That causes comprehension.
Or communicating some of that might exist.
This activity is representative of those who create conflicts,
To protect interests.
And those interests have been habitually fixed to delusions.
And people like this,
Stubborn and fixed...
Live assuming any progress that moves forward,
Is a conspiracy that threatens their beliefs!
And as long as they keep passing the 'pipe' around...
They will interpret the crumbling of foundations,
As a work of art!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Introducing Doubt To Weaken
Remove I've done,
From a confinement to undo.
And to choose to escape,
From perceptions...
Time,
Has taught me to erase.
Remove I've done,
The faking of false faces.
Kept to do,
In fear that I would offend someone...
And masquerading in pretense,
Would find my presence more accepted.
Remove I've done,
Notions of impressions to give.
And to strip myself to expose my identity,
Has meant more to more...
Than the approval of someone lessened,
By a harboring of their own hidden insecurities.
Removed from me I have done,
Those kinds of deliberating limitations.
Introducing doubt to weaken,
My desire to live my life...
Free of anyone's ability,
To qualify the passing of their judgements.
That action,
Is not invited or solicited in defining my life...
Lived the way it has been intended.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Where Ground Meets The Sky
You may dare
But lead no where
As it is ideal world
Far from truth and very cold
Where ground meets the sky
No one questions why?
There is no 'ifs and buts'
All doubtful windows are shut
Honesty is considered as rarest word
Not that much useful to look forward
As idealism leads no where
You are fooled by people only to stare
It is nice to adopt in personal life
Where life is not torn and engulfed with strife
Love and compassion reign supreme
It is then always you and me
Jealousy is part of human life and natural one
No one has remained aloof to be undone
Yet not bad to give worth try and look forward
When life is ideal it has to look like nice and standard
Yes, yes same kind of situation can be created
The poverty and unhappiness can be alleviated
When nature has gifted us in abundance
In real life too we can enjoy fully at once
With little contentment in shaky mind
One can dream and always find
An ideal way to lead with joy
When two are really in love and committed to enjoy
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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To Stale And Flatten
Racism tried to divide,
Apparently sliding on the downslide.
And that...
Is on the brink,
Of failure.
Corruption and deceit?
Even the ones once disbelieving...
This could not be a possibility,
Now find it as common...
As seeing 'For Sale' signs,
On every street.
And those failures?
They too are complete.
People are discovering,
Dishonesty is not the way to live.
Especially today...
When the value of their standards,
Have popped their corks.
And left their minds fizzed,
Out.
To stale and flatten.
And to leave them scattered about.
Plop, plop, fizz, fizz...
No relief comes to the times that give,
To all that sat unaccepting what is!
An implementation of their own created,
Devastation.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Forgiving Themselves of All Sorrows Borrowed
Unstrapped from an entrapping sadness.
And unwrapping sentiments.
With no lingering laments intended meant.
And quickly breaking free of those sacrificial deeds,
Misunderstood.
Although grasping to hold onto patience.
When a mind is at peace,
Everything is as it should be.
With a price that has been paid.
And investing in one's happiness,
Is a gift delivered from a faith that comes to save...
The ones who have awaited to dance too long.
With wishes to sing and share praises,
In celebration of those days now they are.
And forgiving themselves of all sorrows borrowed.
To leave tomorrow cleared...
And detached,
From that which was in a use to be that is gone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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On the Wings of Deception
They wonder why their trails are blocked.
Why accomplishments gained,
Are suddenly stopped!
They insist there are more deeds to make.
Yet nurturing the young...
Has not been done!
They wonder why turmoil exist.
As they put out fires blazing,
From crisis to crisis.
Lessons aren't learned...
And sermons preached are ignored!
Common sense and sensibility,
Cakes thick as mud on treasures once adored!
Crevices crack on foundations of traditions.
Premonitions depicted,
Are cast aside as superstitions.
No one wants to hear about results of ignorance.
Fearing these revelations are a waste of common sense!
And everyone is on defense...
To protect created rights!
Placing values on fantasies,
Fed to feed sickened appetites.
Justice prevails for those who have deep pockets.
Although these mingled resources dwindle...
The fighting continues,
With justifications that skyrocket!
And we are led to believe this way of life is best?
Tell that to those with peace of mind...
Tell that to those who have found ease and rest!
They are not participating in this mess at all.
Or finding ways to promote such evil...
On the wings of deception,
Just to prevent an obvious fall.
Or wish to be found crawling...
Stalled triumphantly in victory,
When these illusions are announced and called!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Wizards of Illusion
Common sense?
Those who are discovered with it,
Are rare.
And leaves those believing...
An ivy league school,
Is where one can get this.
At someone's foolish expense.
With a jealousy directed to a few...
Who obtain scholarships.
As if this promotes and bestows,
An advantage for others that does not exist.
But common sense goes unused,
Frequently...
By those trying to fit their feet...
In shoes too small,
And minds unprepared...
To explain how they are ever going to wear them!
And yet,
Many do manage to amaze shocked masses,
Who eventually become influenced by such trickery.
To the point where they find themselves,
Supporting such 'wizards' of illusion.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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