Never Accepted What Their Eyes Have Shown
Something in their heads,
Have them programmed to believe...
They should not respect themselves.
Or expect they can and could achieve.
Something missing in their heads,
Should have connected them to a maturity.
Something that recognized,
Who should be responsible...
And accountable for their activities.
Something in their minds,
Should have made eye contact with themselves.
Something said or they did not see...
A reflection of themselves yet!
One accepted and believed.
Something has left.
And will never return.
Something that should have been taught.
But for them,
Never to be learned!
And that is why they hide from themselves.
They dislike and despise what they see!
And they have never accepted,
What their eyes have shown!
They are afraid to be who they are.
Even alone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
An Addiction To Self Hatred
People who make excuses for themselves,
Will always seek opportunities...
To cry out injustices against them have been made.
But a lack of discipline and respect shown,
To themselves and others...
Have been condoned to take a backseat,
To allow their self inflicted indignities heard...
With a loud outspoken outreach of this served.
As they continue not to listen and react like beasts,
While continuing the act to despise their own kind.
With an expectation of this sought and taught to keep.
And programmed they are to have this kind of mind,
While confined to limitations worshipped to abuse...
An addiction to self hatred uncompromised to diffuse.
Or... be moved from depths of this ignorance accepted.
Since a tolerance of it has been protected as a reward,
To achieve as a reflection of who and what is represented.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Get What It Was to Do Done
It has been a long time since I had been a child.
Such a long time,
Those actions I did then...
Were tolerated and condoned by someone else,
Who I respected as an adult and it reflected.
Whether or not I accepted.
And from those who taught me,
The difference as I grew.
I knew when I matured...
So few did that too.
And while they now make excuses,
For everything that they do...
Or not.
Expecting to be dismissed...
Like children throwing tantrums,
And spoiled fits.
Upon others they drop.
To do flip flops...
With something childish,
They can not stop!
I wont put up with it!
No matter how 'old'...
These ageless 'kids' may get!
I'm not going to put up with none of that one bit.
I have learned to be accountable.
And responsibility for my actions...
I take.
I have learned to embrace,
Take hold and move on!
No matter who around me,
May hide or deny...
Any action I may make.
With a mind that is awake.
I might undo it.
But...
Whatever that decision is,
It is done by me to say...
'Something'
I had to do to get what it was to do done!
Whether those of childish minds are left stunned.
To get from point A to B does not require a Phd!
Or a pail and shovel to collect sand.
I have been taught not to be afraid to take a stand!
And...
Get it over to get over it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As Has Been Taught
From one's observance,
It can be determined...
A true placement of values.
And what is accepted,
Needs not to be assessed...
To point out to others.
Or be heard routinely expressed.
A true placement of values,
Has been obsessed.
And obvious it is...
Needing not to be excused or confessed.
Since if it was not wished it would not exist.
From one's observance,
It can be determined...
A true placement of values.
And what is accepted,
Needs not to be assessed...
To point out to others or be expressed.
It is what it is as has been taught,
To teach and be believed to label as is revealed.
As has been taught...
These things we see to leave as is believed,
To leave within our minds without questioning but accept.
As has been taught...
These things we see to leave as is believed,
To leave within our minds without questioning but accept.
As has been taught.
As has been taught.
As has been taught...
To leave within our minds without questioning but accept,
These things we see to leave as is believed...
As has been taught.
As has been taught.
As has been taught.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Becoming More Difficult To Achieve
When an immature mentality,
Becomes an accepted part of one's personality...
It stunts a growth process,
Observed in an environment...
Fed on the advantages of being irresponsible.
Where childish attitudes are fed and meant,
To circumvent adult behavior.
A behavior once accepted to respect,
But...
Becoming more difficult to achieve,
With not too many today willing to experience...
The affects of expressing a maturity,
From that point of view!
And 'who' but a few today...
Would admit to being 'that' accountable for their actions.
There is a difference in the doing of things,
Interpreted by others to be foolish.
And to know what is done.
Than to do childish things...
And have few notice,
That the age of the 'childish' doer...
Has no comprehension to mention.
And the fault is found to lay on the back,
Of one who 'portrays' to be a fool...
To fit into such a dysfunctional environment.
To be laughed at but has achieved...
Peace of mind others can't seem to find as accessible.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Goes Unrecognized
It goes unrecognized,
And they despise it.
Yet it is their own reflection.
They do not like what they see at all.
But it is their own reflection.
They speak of ills and detriment.
Of evil doings and misdeeds sent.
They talk of maintaining standards...
With values meant.
But none of this means anything,
Since they can not see themselves at all...
Through any of their sentiments!
Every thing that is said,
They want to believe.
But what is in their heads...
Isn't the lives they lead!
It goes unrecognized,
And they despise it.
Contradictions like these,
Bleed!
It goes unrecognized,
And they despise it.
Yet it is their own reflection.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Life to Live
I've been connected!
To every aspect of my life.
I myself accepted.
Regardless of who thought that wrong,
Or right!
From birth I've known the path I walk.
And stubbornly I kept my aim.
I was prepared for rumors and the talk...
Long before my name change,
To label and brand...
The quality of my game!
Played by my command!
Oh yes!
I've been connected!
To every aspect of my life.
I myself accepted.
I've been connected!
To every aspect of my life.
I myself accepted.
Regardless of who thought that wrong,
Or right!
This is my life to live!
What is it on my resumé,
You find it difficult to believe?
Hmmm...?
And I am just getting started!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Many Caring Less
I have a respect for accepted correctness.
With a doing of my best,
To give from me what is expected.
Although I must confess,
In doing that which I wish to achieve...
There seems to be so many caring less,
As to how others they mistreat...
But want for themselves shown no neglect.
With an attention given to them as if they were royalty.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Back and Forth...Back and Forth!
Once it is determined,
A person has a 'special' rendition of life?
You know...
Someone 'we' may believe has a party going on...
In their heads.
And it is a private party?
It is sometimes better,
To pretend we hear the melody.
Especially if a desire is shown,
To communicate with us.
From wherever they may be 'inside'.
With all of the activity no one can hear outside.
But suspects 'something inside' occupies!
Although nothing may OR may not be there at all.
And we wish not to take chances and offend?
So we begin to keep our lips closed and nod our heads.
Hoping, eventually, a toleration overcomes us.
We begin to pat our feet.
And shake our heads slowly from side to side.
With eyes fixed we do this...
Wanting not to be noticed.
Slowly we begin...
Back and forth...back and forth.
Our heads we shake!
Observing and attempting to communicate.
Back and forth...back and forth
Our heads we shake!
Observing and attempting to communicate.
Keeping up with this sustained movement.
Patting our feet and biting on a lower lip.
Agreeing...
But not understanding,
What it is we agree with.
And we ask ourselves,
'Why am I putting myself through this? '
Back and forth...back and forth,
Our heads we shake!
Observing and attempting to communicate.
Keeping up with a sustained beat.
Patting our feet and biting on a lower lip.
And we ask ourselves,
'Why am I putting myself through this? '
And miraculously,
As if that Excedrin headache suddenly goes...
We find our minds in an accepted peace.
Numbed!
Yet peaceful.
And so proud we are,
We have kept our patience!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Much More Work to Do
Why are those chickens running around,
And their heads have been cut off?
'They've been conditioned that they are not chickens.
They've been programmed to believe they are constituents.
And that's the name they prefer.
It has stuck with them!
Like feathers attached to birds.'
You are what you believe, you know?
'I know!
And those heads?
They've never used them anyway.
So the running around,
With their heads cut off the way they do?
They've been told only 'chickens' do that!
And as luck would have it...
They can't see themselves that way!
No heads?
No eyes!
What about all those pots you've got?
'Well...
We've been promising to get one in each pot!
And that's the dilemma.
Like I said...
They can't 'see' themselves as chickens.
Nor do they believe,
We can get one in each pot!
So they are running around...
As if a lottery to be played,
Will be stopped.
And...
I don't have to tell you,
There's a lot of convincing.
With much more work to do.
None of this was planned too well.'
Or at all!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Behind The Scenes
It never ceases to amaze me,
How those behind the scenes...
Continue to play their infantile games,
To create rivalries they wish to perceive.
And the only thing they do achieve,
Is to leave themselves looking stupid.
And unaware of what is and what isn't,
Kept significant...
In the minds of those who have accepted,
Maturity as a way to live their adult lives.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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They Have Already Murdered Their Futures
They have already murdered their futures.
With an allowing of a lack of discipline.
And the loss of self respect shown and given.
What future do they expect to have,
With no investment left protected in it.
And assisting to dismantle their own identities?
With a hope their insecurities will be accepted?
They have already murdered their futures.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What About My Image?
But you've graduated from high school.
Why is it that you desire to go back?
'I felt safe in those days.
It was easy for me not to be accountable,
For anything.
And when I blamed someone else for something I did...
At least I could hide my deceit and was believed.
But today...
People are trying to make me responsible,
For my own actions.
And...
I have 'never' done that before!
I'm not use to having fingers pointed at me.'
Well...
You know eventually that is going to happen.
'I know.
I can't even blame 'them' for anything anymore.'
Just be prepared to fix everything you've done.
'Are you kidding?
Be responsible for my own actions?
Be accountable and admit my faults?
But...but...
What about my image? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Is the Kind of Life
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
We are born to believe,
What is fed to us.
This 'feeding' is received...
And what is perceived,
We with others retrieve with like minds!
Preferring to find those of the same kind,
With like 'experiences' shared without fear!
And fear keeps us all indoctrinated to accept doubt!
Isn't that what marketing peace is about?
With the realization it will never be found...
As we rely on the production of conflict and confusion,
To always be identified!
Knowing that as well as we do.
And hoping this in our lives stays around!
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
And is kept alive to thrive...
In comfort zones,
Until the day we die!
Leaving those who defy these 'truths'...
Spilling their guts out in confession booths.
Or squeezing themselves to sit in pews...
As they listen to hypocrites from pulpits preach,
To leech on minds already screwed and confused!
And this is the kind of life,
We all have come to love!
Listening to teachings,
That 'demons' from hell have no wings...
Allowing to be demoralized on Sunday,
Learning more about the devil...
As we hear these 'disciples' sing!
And this is the kind of life,
We all have come to love!
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Magnified Chrystal Balling
Boys play.
And in play...
A bravado is accepted.
And willfully on constant display.
With a show of fearlessness shown,
By the one selected and chosen to lead.
And that one accustomed to getting things done,
Has to express independence and confidence.
Sometimes at the risk of exposing a humanness.
And achieving less than those observing,
From the sidelines expect.
When doubts about direction begin to be expressed.
This upsets,
Those with victories to achieve on their breaths.
Tight lipped bravery is what arnchair warriors respect.
But emotions one dares to expose on one's sleeve,
Contradicts a magnified Chyrstal balling.
Appalling those wishing to see,
Confetti and cheering with smiles in magazines.
'Has he been up to the task,
Is all that matters.
Who amongst you have dug the ditches,
Or crawled through trenches...
To affect expectations? '
Boys play.
And in play...
A bravado is accepted.
And willfully on constant display.
With a show of fearlessness shown,
By the one selected and chosen to lead.
In play!
War...
Or in peace to keep unthreatened.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Passing By
Close your eyes
Can't you see it's burning slow
Fading down the sparks of fire earth bound
Space in two
Warm beyond the love below
Close your eyes
It's time for us to go
Over our heads
Light keeps passing through
Over our heads
Lite from me to you
Falling down
Way beneath the healing skies
Rise and shine
The crying times left behind
Over our heads
All we see is true
Over our heads
Can't you see it too
Over our heads
Light keeps passing through
Over our heads
Lite from me to you
song performed by by Zero 7
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The One You Despise
Mother, I must warn you, you've come to look the fool
For, in attempt to teach me life, you've broken every rule.
You say that I should stand proud, because my ancestors were black
Yet for the ones of white and red my pride must somehow lack
You told me to feel handsome, be proud of what I see
And yet, 'Big, black and ugly, ' is all you say to me
Then manners, you tried on me to press
And handsome grooming, with proper dress
But then, you offer no respect,
And, still, from me, perfection expect
And, now, you say it's time to go
And, at eighteen, it's time. I know.
And though I love you I must away
Though, never knowing just how to say,
'I'm sorry'
The one you despise is always there
She's taught me respect, loving and care
She's taught me pride, in my ancestors, all
Because I am me, that's enough to stand tall
She's shown me the beauty in others too
She's even shown me the beauty in you.
She's taught me manners, how to get along
That appreciation and respect should be strong.
She does not worship me as you say, but offers me respect
And even with my imperfection, my trying, she accepts
Were it not for her, when I was in LA
I could hurt myself, or run away
So go ahead, Mother, and call her a whore
You'll only draw me away from you more.
'I'm sorry.'
poem by Wakefield Mahon
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Hall Of Heads
Here in the hall of heads
You look through the keyhole
This is the hall of heads
One step through the doorway
Roll out that special head
This is our favorite one
Please dont try to leave
Dont leave the hall of heads
Hide underneath the porch
Hide down behind the furnace
You cant get away
You cant really hide
Once you hear the call
The song of the hall of heads
You cant run away
Your feet wont help you run
You cant run away
Out of the hall of heads
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Breakthrough
I wish I was speaking to influence,
The undoing of perceptions.
And commanded distribution,
Of everything new, accepted and believed.
I wish we all had invested,
Our priorities in uplifting all humanity.
To realize the true wealth we have...
Is not in the value placed on 'things'.
But who we are as human beings.
I wish I was speaking to influence,
The undoing of perceptions.
And commanded distribution,
Of everything new, accepted and believed.
I wish one day we all should awaken...
To witness pieces released from us,
That kept us in limitation debating a fate.
And with eyes opened,
There was a feeling of escape.
A breakthrough we knew we could not forsake.
I wish I was speaking to influence,
The undoing of perceptions.
And commanded distribution,
Of everything new, accepted and believed.
But then again...
I do remember,
How long it took for the deceit I sought...
To leave me...to see what it is to be clearly seen.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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That Which I Do Not Know
How do I know what I know?
I've accepted faith as my reward,
For understanding.
I've accepted the experience of stumbling...
And not allow defeat,
To stop an ability I have to get back on my feet!
I've accepted humiliation to assist in my self evaluation.
I've accepted criticsms of all kinds.
I've accepted heartbreak to mend any bitterness.
With a forgiveness that God will defend...
And correct misdeeds done!
How do I know what I know?
I know I did not bleed without pain!
I know I did not recover from wounds alone.
I know I don't have all the answers!
And that was the beginning...
Of knowing something I could not debate.
It is what it is.
And could not be what it is not!
How do I know what I know?
That which I do not know...
I do not!
And I will admit,
I am prepared to learn.
'That' I choose not to stop!
I am not living my life to hide from it!
Or deny what it has to offer.
I do observe some fantasizing pain.
I am not that advanced!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Somthing's Missing
everyday and every night i wake up wondering why?
why are we here
why are we there
we turn our heads in despair
it's thee same old thing day and night
it never changes while we sit here waiting
we turn our heads to see what happens
but nothing happens nothing changes
thoughs words will not exist
they have disappeared
since he has appeared
they have lost their way, traveled so far
when will they return
when will they stop to be heard
why are we here
why are we there
we turn our heads in despair
it's thee same old thing day and night
it never changes while we sit here waiting
you can tell by his eyes that something’s missing
thoughs words come out but it sounds like hissing
something’s missing
poem by Scarred Unknown
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