Medicated And Blocked
We live in times,
When the absence of content...
Has little or nothing to do,
With the popularity of anyone...
Hyped to represent,
A relevance that is emptied...
Of any appearance of common sense.
Intentional or not...
The increase of this,
Will not soon be stopped.
Since the minds of the people...
Have been both medicated and blocked,
For any type of thought process...
That can differentiate those priorities smothered,
And kept on the bottom from the ones that should be,
On an agenda nourished,
To remain flourishing on top!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Entertaining the Absence of Logic
There are still those who are amply baited,
Who remain over medicated...
With hallucinations they satiate.
And prescribed just the right mix,
Of delusions to keep them fixed.
With a bombardment of mental distractions...
To ensure denial and truth is resisted.
There are still those who are amply baited,
Who remain over medicated...
With hallucinations they satiate.
The time to awaken their minds has passed.
Addicted to fantasize and this will last.
As they have been treated to dismiss,
All elements of reality in their consciousness.
Confirming with validation the admittance of conflict.
Entertaining the absence of logic and common sense.
Numbed and insisting this existence persists.
Entertaining the absence of logic and common sense.
Numbed and insisting this existence persists.
Entertaining the absence of logic and common sense.
Confirming with validation the admittance of conflict.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stop Trying to Find the Logic in Everything
The trouble with people feeding their greed,
And perceiving their feeding to hoard
To be an eternal process,
For themselves to be kept stored.
With no one else to profit from a process,
Not stopped.
Is...
Well,
One day to be revealed as preventable.
Even their selfish deeds must come to an end.
Whether or not...
They believe what has been available,
Has been diminished without the consciousness
Of their active input,
To keep what is missing their responsibilty
To nourish the flourishing that is obviously,
Absent from their purpose.
And those who live just to feed their greed,
Do not realize they place themselves in jeopardy.
Although they are not aware of this
Behind walls of a blocked isolation.
Perceived from a direction of its inception
To be an envied way a life.
Needing at their own expense to protect.
Even if that expense is aided by depending
On the discreet and secret borrowing from others.
'I thought you said 'they' were our enemies?
Them and they and those others? '
Who cares?
What is more important?
Impressing with our pretentions
Or being honest with ourselves?
'None of it makes any sense.'
When did the feeding of one's greed,
Ever made any sense?
Hmmm?
It is a standard that is valued.
We thrive on our pretentions!
Remember that.
Stop trying to find logic in everything.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Could Have Been A Flourishing
There could have been a flourishing.
With an enriching nourishment that encouraged it.
There could have been a sharing of expertise,
Amongst those mature enough to do it.
And an increase of understanding,
From everyone released.
There could have been growth,
With a beneficial purpose done.
But that road was blocked...
By the ones who joined that bandwagon,
With wishes to have these joint ventures stopped.
There could have been,
A respecting of differences from the beginning...
To everyone's benefit.
There could have been appreciation expressed,
For one person to the next.
There could have been ideals addressed,
With less dissecting as to whose suggestions...
Were better than the rest.
But minds seeking to impress...
Infected all with a lack of interest.
There could have been a flourishing.
With an enriching nourishment that encouraged it.
There could have been a sharing of expertise,
Amongst those mature enough to do it.
But those mature enough to do this,
Could no longer endure those immature!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Relevance: No Return to a Ping, With Its Pong Gone
Where is it?
Who hid it from opened eyes.
And why is it in disguise?
Where is it?
A relevance missing.
With few curious.
Has it been thrusted,
And crushed under a bus?
Where is it?
A relevance,
Making sense.
Where is this presence that has gone?
And the minds it stayed on?
With relevance spoken strong...
Are they too gone?
Without a relevance,
Freed from its ping!
With a needed pong gone!
Think about this...
But not too long.
If you delivered a ping,
Would you not expect a pong to belong?
Or in time,
Come along?
Where is it?
This relevance that was here,
Seems to have disappeared.
And it is very clear,
Relevance known...
Has shown to us,
It does not feel...
It belongs.
Freed from its ping!
With a needed pong gone!
Think about this...
Again if you wish.
There were opportunities,
When relevance was near.
And clear!
Now that it is absent...
Do you feel,
A bit of a tear?
And if there's no relevance,
What is the purpose...
To go on to sing unchained melodies?
Oh,
My love.
My darling...
I hunger!
Where is it?
And if there is no relevance,
What is the purpose,
To go on to sing songs without meaning?
Breaking up is hard to do.
Where is that relevance we once knew?
Where is it?
A relevance,
Making sense.
Where is it?
And if there is no relevance,
What is the purpose,
To go on?
To sing songs of love.
And...
No return to a ping,
With its pong gone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Manifesting In Arrested Sleep
Left behind.
Most have jumped into safety nets.
Held by clinging vines.
And time has stopped.
Minds are blocked.
Onlookers can't believe,
People frozen yet they breathe.
And time has stopped.
Minds are blocked.
Onlookers can't believe,
People frozen yet they breathe.
Manifesting in arrested sleep.
Time has stopped!
Manifesting in arrested sleep.
Minds are blocked!
Manifesting in arrested sleep.
And onlookers can't believe,
People frozen yet they breathe.
Left behind.
Most have jumped into safety nets.
Held by clinging vines.
And onlookers can't believe,
People frozen yet they breathe.
Time has stopped!
Manifesting in arrested sleep.
Minds are blocked!
Manifesting in arrested sleep.
And onlookers can't believe,
People frozen yet they breathe.
Time has stopped!
Manifesting in arrested sleep.
Minds are blocked!
Manifesting in arrested sleep.
And onlookers can't believe,
People frozen yet they breathe.
Time has stopped!
Manifesting in arrested sleep.
Minds are blocked!
Manifesting in arrested sleep.
Time has stopped!
Manifesting in arrested sleep.
Minds are blocked!
Manifesting in arrested sleep.
And onlookers can't believe,
People frozen yet they breathe.
To be left...
Without an empathy to tease them!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Grunge
The promotion of grunge and its appearance,
Not only has influence the lack of one's hygiene...
But also has increased,
A devoted acceptance to filth of mind, body and soul.
In a one price paid gets all effort.
One would think these revelations would assist in ceasing,
The degree of blatant tastelessness.
But no...'not gonna happen'.
The rise in popularity of disgust,
Has made the face of disgrace as if a precious jewel.
Making pointless any defense of standards or values,
Seen to exist in approved gutters.
And protected by those intoxicated...
With a lingering odor of aged and smothered pretentions.
'Can you smell that?
It's character altering.
What is it? '
You must be new to this neighborhood?
You will become addicted and soon an advocate.
All fresh arrivals react similarly.
Although I am surprised your appearance has a bit,
Of common sense reflecting.
You must be here on a limited visit?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Revered
They had no clue who they were!
And it was intentional.
They had no say in their destiny!
And it was intentional.
They were used to entertain.
And for social programs
Monitored and maintained!
They were treated as if they had no brains...
And THAT was intentional!
Stripped of titles and resources.
And it was intentional.
Treated with disrespect and like work horses.
And it was intentional!
Then one day a shift occurs...
And this process from them purged.
A reversal of fortune takes root and grows!
The oppressed no longer depressed,
By this suppression once imposed.
And it IS intentional...
No one mentions them now revered!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Where Is the Relevance?
Where is the relevance?
One once connected and applied,
To a life making more not less sense.
For those who believed...
There was something treasured,
We all had in common.
Where is the relevance?
To the multitude of debates...
Delivered by those 'practicing' their intelligence,
On the shoulders of folks...
With similar tastes,
Now heating collectively...
In an impatience observed,
And without question seen.
And told they must wait in anticipation...
For those in positions of leadership,
To decide the urgency of our fates!
Where is the relevance?
Eyes opened created the decadence.
Few slept through the entertainment done.
No one complained about the feeding of greed.
Or lifestyles that were shared by a choice few.
Not everyone!
So where is that relevance?
The one declared we all share,
But never there.
The relevance of standards and quality,
We all strived to reach!
That relevance lived by a few in exclusivity...
But from the rest of us impeached.
Where is the relevance?
Sought and now called upon all of us to seek!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Increase Of Its Popularity
The one thing about ignorance,
That is beginning to make sense...
To those advocating their prinicples,
And beliefs with enforced implementation...
Is the acceptance of ignorance everywhere.
Spreading to eliminate the thought of its existence.
Leaving the many who had perceived ignorance to be,
As appalling and offensive to become today outnumbered.
Making the appearance of ignorance the choice preferred.
That satisfies both purpose and taste,
Without need for debate to question.
With few left to argue the increase of its popularity.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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From the Top to the Bottom
From the top to the bottom,
There were those who chose to stop...
Actions they believe were made,
By those who went against the grade.
No matter if that grade,
Had been all about 'shade'.
From the top to the bottom,
There were those who were just rotten.
With nothing on their minds,
But themselves all the time.
And believing they had power...
To stop tick tocking from a hanging clock.
From the top to the bottom,
There were gobblers who loved robbing...
Anything they thought had meaning,
And to smear it with their scheming.
With no scruples in their 'noggin'.
And sipping on mischief like it was eggnog.
From the top to the bottom,
There were crooks and there were snobs...
With their noses in the air!
But no empathy is shown to come,
From anywhere.
Now find their lives blocked,
And going no where.
From the top to the bottom,
They are slipping off roofs...
Into muddy ruts.
With no boots or shoes,
And on their butts out of luck...
Singing the blues!
From the top to the bottom,
Slickers sliding in slop!
From the top to the bottom,
And it's done nonstop!
From the top to the bottom,
Slickers sliding in slop!
From the top to the bottom,
And it's done nonstop!
From the top to the bottom,
Now the bottom's got 'em shocked!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Suitable For An Agenda
People may choose to believe,
They will punish someone...
For an act disliked that was done.
However,
If what was done consciously...
And with intent,
That punishment delivered...
May be suitable for an agenda,
One does not mention...
But joyfully gets.
We live in those times,
When all beliefs once easily defined...
Can no longer be legitimized,
By our expectations of receiving...
What we perceive as we envision it.
There are those who do things,
Just for the attention...
Others unknowingly give,
To the ones planning their own course...
For something to do to lead those offtrack.
Minds today,
Are not that easily persuaded...
To be led one way,
With a dependable process once used.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Someone I Am Not
You'd like for me to be for you someone I am not.
You'd like for me to dropp my priorities,
And put your agenda on top.
Stop!
Wasting my time I have never found comforting.
Or deciding my life is less important than yours,
Has never occurred to blur my vision.
Any door of opportunity I see for me that is open,
I am going to walk through it.
And your attempts to block me...
Is a notice from you I do not deserve.
And ignoring you does not take neither courage,
Or nerve.
You're just another observed fool in my way!
Move,
You can not stay here to pluck or shuck...
Not at this door to cross a threshold.
You'd like for me to be for you someone I am not.
You'd like for me to dropp my priorities,
And put your agenda on top.
Stop!
What have you not heard?
Do you wish for me to show you,
I can be insensitive?
Someone I am not.
But I can deliver a believable portrayal,
Whenever someone has that as a need.
You'd like for me to be for you someone I am not.
You'd like for me to dropp my priorities,
And put your agenda on top.
Stop!
I prefer to be left to be someone I am.
Not to be changed into someone I am not!
Although I am quick to defend against,
Misdeeds and their intentions.
With a noticeable determination.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bugging Out
Can you believe the speed by which people seem,
To be losing their minds today?
And the acceptance of it?
Can you believe this?
'Yes I can.
That's why I wear a rabbit's foot around my neck.
A four leaf clover attached to my lapel.
I pray with faith, meditate and do yoga too.
And with my fingers kept crossed,
I am hoping 'any' common sense I have...
Stays inside of me to be daily identified.
I am hoping not to be that one,
Trying to fit in or communicate...
With anyone I have yet met who I suspect has sanity left.
Or has an ability to think independently.
I hate to be disappointed.
These are dangerous times,
For anyone exposing they have a thought process.
And a mind unaffected by a dumbdowning done.'
So...
You feel you are kept protected?
'Sometimes, yes.
Especially when I begin talking to myself.
For some reason...
When people see me doing it,
They realize I am in conference.
Immediately people quiet themselves,
As if not to disturb me.
You should try that.
It works.'
No.
I don't want anyone to 'think',
I am bugging out.
'Is it peace you want to keep?
Or your pretentions? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Those Times Never Forgotten
Sometimes the best remedy,
That comes to assist one to heal quickly...
Is not the familiar 'cry-on-the-shoulder-kind'!
With a soothing of tears and a warm embrace.
Sometimes some cures are better done,
When that person is left alone.
To figure out how to deal,
With agony, pain and stress on their own.
And hopefully a going through the process...
Will increase an appreciation!
And perhaps the acknowledgement,
Of this is shown.
Sometimes this works!
And at other times...
Be on the alert!
Especially when those 'sometimes'
Most of the time...
Are those times never forgotten,
By the ones turned away the first time.
You know...
There are those times that come,
When 'some' people have none to spare!
To express an empathy or caring.
And we all will have those times,
When a comforting should have been extended.
And a selfishness not to listen...or pretend,
Reveals more than what had been intended.
And...
Even though a healing process does occur?
The hearing of it,
Never seems to end.
With reminders left to dig deep under the skin.
'WHY?
Why are you still harboring on that?
How long do you want me to apologize?
For the rest of my life? '
~I hadn't thought of that as an option.
Let me give that some thought!
Thank you for the suggestion.
I appreciate that.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Common Sense Is Missing
Common Sense?
If it is so common,
Why is it so rarely displayed?
People who succeed academically...
Sometimes find it hard to mix
With those who are suppose to lack
A worldly knowledge and quick wit!
Those who spend their lives in books...
May have minds of intelligence,
But few know how to cook!
Or know how to hold a conversation...
Without returning an 'all knowing' look!
With a raised eyebrow...
And a half smile crooked!
And common sense is missing.
That is realized before a word is said!
There is something about spontaneity...
Many find difficult to express from their heads!
Or able to exchange...
When brains are prepared to regurgitate,
Details obtained about 'historical' ancient remains!
And common sense...
If there's any left,
Is not expected to come from the lips
Of minds so far removed, dull and shamefully inept!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Relevance
It is much too big to contain it.
Relevance.
It connects to a point of view,
Making sense.
A pieced together relevance.
And changing it to convince,
An alternative provides more to give...
With a backing of defense.
For those accustomed to confusion,
Conflicts for them sit well.
But a relevance to what exists,
Clears the air where delusions...
Have been invited to dwell.
Bringing 'home' a relevance,
Invites communication.
And from that confusion is dispelled.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Until All Itching Has Been Scratched From It
Truth and popularity do not mix.
In some minds this is an unfit relationship.
And suitable it is to be distanced quick.
Truth and popularity do not mix.
People confronted run and do not sit.
And finding it difficult to be seen near it.
And these are the ones who become upset,
By living lives reflecting their own negligence.
Hiding in denial and deluded by embellishments.
And these are the people who today regret,
Spending their last dime...
To make impressions others forget.
Since impressions themselves,
Leave nothing concrete meant.
Truth and popularity do not mix.
In some minds this is an unfit relationship.
And suitable it is to be distanced quick.
Like that which irritates...
Until all itching has been scratched from it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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How Has He Managed To Do This...?
I think he is fantastic.
I think he is glorious and tremendous.
I think he is exceptional.
Brilliant.
Focused and sharp.
He is credible and responsible.
A breath of fresh air.
Magnificent with integrity.
And...
As long as he remains,
As high as he is in the polls...
I will endorse him with the utmost respect.
When he dips,
That's it!
He can forget all of the praise.
However...
This also has to be taken into consideration.
These are the days of change.
And IF he should plummet into a cesspool...
He will still come out of it smelling like a rose.
Since he is the first one,
To speak with a connected common sense.
And 'that' has kept people baffled!
How has he managed to do this...?
Without one appearance with Minnie,
Or Mickey Mouse?
We are living in phenomenal times.
And he is definitely extraordinary!
With an identity that is clearly one of a kind.
In public view...
So few knew he could represent.
With a commanding attention,
That is void of pretention.
How has he managed to do this...?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Takes An Absence
It takes an absence felt,
For many people to realize...
What and who in their lives,
Had provided them with a significance.
It takes an absence for an awakening to occur,
To stir up priorities with a reviewing...
Of what had topped their most wished list.
With a doing when one finally gets around to it.
It takes an absence missed with a remorse that sits,
For the ones who had been taken for granted...
Now 'suddenly' appreciated for their contributions made.
Those who never mentioned,
Requests to receive an attention to them given.
And it takes an absence with attempts to replace,
A void that appears one no longer can face...
To fill a vacuum that had been once shared and enjoyed,
By those who frequently were thought to have annoyed.
Yes an absence teaches those lessons learned,
Thought by some to be preached when comments made...
Were believed to leave some ears to burn.
To remind the receiver what they have sometimes was given,
And not by them earned as believed.
It takes an absence missed when reminiscing...
Those perceived could be easily dismissed.
And absences that are often missed,
Are those wished could be returned with more thoughtfulness!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Easier to Accept
As painful as this experience may be...
For some.
There is nothing like having it come,
Unannounced!
If preparations were made...
Decisions to change it,
Would have prevented a growth process.
And not one person came to this life,
Without causing someone pain.
To eventually gain 'something' from it!
Some kind of a learning process occurred.
Unless they were unconscious?
And that might explain,
Why so many choose to remain medicated.
It is easier to accept something,
When it is not personally felt!
Or mandated as someone else's sacrifice.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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