No Exceptions Made
And now...
The clean up!
Like none ever done.
Some will not be in it for the healing of it!
Many will sit in bitterness.
In divisions that they are accustomed.
They will not accept,
A participation without choice.
There is a clean up that is going to be done!
By everyone.
There will be no exceptions made!
All of those you see,
Looking from the windows,
Inside the house?
If they wish to eat and sleep in comfort...
They will work the fields,
And yield to discipline!
They, them, those and others...
Will sweep the dirt,
Everyone let collect.
'This' will become your reality!
'He will never be 'my' president! '
I doubt if that is a concern of his.
He prefers the title...
Chief Delegator!
What is his concern...?
Everyone will do their chores!
Complete assignments.
And 'earn' their right to complain.
Including you!
You see those obstacles?
Those hurdles to be jumped?
Those problems to be solved!
They are tremendous.
Embrace them!
Consider them yours!
The best way to get familiar...
I suggest?
Less protest.
This is the 'change' you can believe in!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Manners count
It is your dress, cleanliness and manner,
Not your skin, countenance, and glamour,
That earns you a woman’s concern.
Your clean mind, clean teeth, clean habit,
Not your muscles, jewels and wallet
Are which earn you a woman’s concern.
Be your manner and calls above her reproach.
Refrain from over care and over indulgence.
Then you will have earned a woman’s concern.
You lend her your ear and not eye.
You tend her passion, not her lust.
You will have won her concern.
If you have no concern for women,
If you have no woman’s concern,
Then no use of you being born.
13.11.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Suffering Endured Has Ended
After many years,
A suffering endured has ended.
And you expect my empathetic participation,
With yours?
I don't think so!
I managed to jump through hoops,
To become cured.
And you complain when it rains.
Or from the sight of it,
Inside the comfort of your shelter.
My healing had occurred when fully exposed.
With challenges and obstacles still to overcome.
Only God once allowed can undo what has been done!
And that I discovered after having my own one on one.
In a reality I will describe,
As not being scipted...
For my enjoyment nor for my fun.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Clean
Eat clean,
Live clean,
Sleep clean,
dress clean,
Walk clean,
Learn clean,
Play clean,
Think clean,
dance clean,
Talk clean,
Sing clean,
work clean,
Because the world around you is watching what you do;
You are the only one on this earth,
So live and let us live too.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Implies Not Looking Back
What a word...
Forward.
It implies not looking back.
Or getting too accustomed,
To that which is familiar and intact.
So many have been comforted,
By schedules made and keeping set dates.
With a scratching off from a menu decided,
To replace or hesitate to eventually procrastinate.
What a word...
Forward.
It implies not looking back.
Or getting too accustomed,
To that which is familiar and intact.
Even Mother Nature comes to assist with this movement.
With a shifting of Earth and turbulent winds.
Spinning storms called hurricanes,
From the shores of Africa that begin...
In vast waters referred to as the Atlantic Ocean.
And still there are those demanding entitlements,
With preferences prayed in a daily devotion.
As if they have rights to insist a life liked to live.
What a word...
Forward.
It implies not looking back.
Or getting too accustomed,
To that which is familiar and intact.
But...
Unfortunate are those who believe,
A moving back in time...
Is a choice to make as to who will lead,
Them away from truth...
To produce more delusions and fantasies!
What a word...
Forward.
It implies not looking back.
Or getting too accustomed,
To that which is familiar and intact.
And leaving behind many detached,
Who will never become attached to reality.
Moving forward is the change everyone will believe in,
Whether to embrace, accept or not.
We live to experience, grow to then distance,
From aged beliefs to advance to other adventures.
With a wisdom kept to keep to be reminisced but not lived,
Repeatedly to comfort our insecurities.
'I hate change.'
Me too.
I wish I had more dollars.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Be helpful to be helped
To learn so as to earn
Alone is not your concern.
To show concerns for others
Must also be your concern.
To earn to get comfort
Alone is not your effort.
To be helpful and grateful
Must also be your effort.
One can die penny less
One must not die wanting helps.
10.05.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hidden Drive
there's a dirty house that's falling apart
some want to fix it but they don't know where to start
there's cobwebs and cracks in the walls
this is where rain's relief dares not to fall
no one really cares to help this place
they just look at the face
this old house is kept inside
with a disguising shell to hide
something i noticed as i passed by
at the house where hope will die
the windows were clean and new
though everywhere else the weeds grew
the windows had such an allure
i couldn't take it anymore
i gazed at the windows in awe
then through them i saw
the messy, run-down house inside
where beauty died
then i realized
something about eyes
eyes are the windows
clean and lovely for show
but behind them is the soul
sometimes your eyes will fool
the beauty and shine will not last
for one day, someone will see past.
poem by Alex Manson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Obama Wont Mama
Take that scrub brush,
And that mop.
Start from the corners...
And clean this mess up, baby.
'Don't wanna.
I don't wanna.
Don't wanna...
Or gonna! '
Take that scrub brush,
And that mop.
Start from the corners...
And clean this mess up, baby.
'Don't wanna.
I don't wanna.
Don't wanna...
Or gonna! '
Obama wont mama no ship,
With folks on it lazy.
He's already warned there'll be some changes made.
It you think he'll let you sit,
You're crazy.
He's gonna make discipline stick quick.
If you don't believe it...
You'll believe it when you sweep up your ssshhhh...
Itsy bits.
With sweat and elbows greased to mix.
You wont have time for bitterness.
'Don't wanna.
I don't wanna.
Don't wanna...
Or gonna! '
Ooooohhhh!
Take that scrub brush,
And that mop.
Start from the corners...
And clean this mess up, baby.
'Don't wanna.
I don't wanna.
Don't wanna...
Or gonna! '
Take that scrub brush,
And that mop.
Start from the corners...
And clean this mess up, baby.
Change, real change you can believe.
You might as well roll up your sleeves...
Hand a dustpan to those sleeping.
Obama wont mama no ship,
With folks on it lazy.
He's already warned there'll be some changes made.
It you think he'll let you sit,
You're crazy.
He's gonna make discipline stick quick.
If you don't believe it...
You'll believe it when you sweep up your ssshhhh...
Itsy bits.
Take that scrub brush,
And that mop.
Start from the corners...
And clean this mess up, baby.
'Don't wanna.
I don't wanna.
Don't wanna...
Or gonna! '
'WE CAN...'
And,
You will!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dirty Jim
THERE was one little Jim,
'Tis reported of him,
And must be to his lasting disgrace,
That he never was seen
With hands at all clean,
Nor yet ever clean was his face.
His friends were much hurt
To see so much dirt,
And often they made him quite clean;
But all was in vain,
He got dirty again,
And not at all fit to be seen.
It gave him no pain
To hear them complain,
Nor his own dirty clothes to survey:
His indolent mind
No pleasure could find
In tidy and wholesome array.
The idle and bad,
Like this little lad,
May love dirty ways, to be sure;
But good boys are seen
To be decent and clean,
Although they are ever so poor.
poem by Ann Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dirty Jim
THERE was one little Jim,
'Tis reported of him,
And must be to his lasting disgrace,
That he never was seen
With hands at all clean,
Nor yet ever clean was his face. . . .
His friends were much hurt
To see so much dirt,
And often they made him quite clean;
But all was in vain,
He got dirty again,
And not at all fit to be seen.
It gave him no pain
To hear them complain,
Nor his own dirty clothes to survey:
His indolent mind
No pleasure could find
In tidy and wholesome array.
The idle and bad,
Like this little lad,
May love dirty ways, to be sure;
But good boys are seen
To be decent and clean,
Although they are ever so poor.
poem by Jane Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sky Does Not Protest
In the early years of my flavoured childhood,
Could not I differ between an evil and a good,
And went to the forest afar with my age fellows,
To collect, to gather the dry sticks or fire wood.
In summer seldom the swishing winds blew,
The grains of sand and contents of dust flew,
And made the clean spheres reddish brown,
We bundled the fuel as the harsh winds grew.
Contending the winds, to home we returned,
On each step blurring, blowing blows burned,
And we rested on the way beside the old well,
Wherefrom damsels obtained water churned.
They talked themselves with the concern deep,
About some innocent murder, they did weep,
Then I understood why the sky grew vague,
Why did winds raise dust, why they did beep?
Ah! The sky now does not protest, nor frown,
Nor change colour from blue to reddish brown,
He too might have grown accustomed to blood,
Though Man is killed in each village, each town.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To get concern
I like that I am poor,
That’d fetch me others’ concern.
I like that I fall ill,
That’d earn me others’ concern.
I like that I am aged,
That’d grant me others’ concern.
Such occasions failing,
I’d pretend like those.
28.07.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Unified Comprehension
Change?
There is going to be change.
Drastic, immediate and effective.
The kind that comes to stay.
Unseasonal.
Traumatic.
Like the kind of change,
One suffers through...
When going to school for the first time.
The kind that breaks and shakes,
Like an Earthquake.
A shocker that roars in like a tsunami.
To leave folks stunned.
With no where to run....
But endure.
Change?
There is going to be change.
Drastic, immediate and effective.
That's for sure.
With one exception!
Very few will be asked,
To debate the quality of it.
And no one will be exempted.
Total, complete and thorough...
Will be the experience.
Many will welcome it.
While others will be heard complaining,
As they sweep to keep up...
With assigned chores.
Change?
There is going to be change.
Drastic, immediate and effective.
The kind that motivates,
With an understood dictation.
'That sounds like 'socialism'?
I doubt if there will be any sounds at all!
However...
There will be a unified comprehension.
Descending from the Oval Office.
President Obama,
Intends we all become familiar...
With the concept of pride!
He plays not upon our delusions.
But we will manifest his vision.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unseen
something's wrong with mother always cleaning the house
and father complains for she does nothing but sweep and scrub
and dust and wipe and rub,
the floors are shiny and father does not like it
he may slide and the children too
and each may hurt the body, but mother cannot be stopped
and we complain like what father does, but mother does not
really mind, for she has become so hardheaded because father
slaps her and we make her deaf with our grumblings
until then when mother died and father cried and we felt we had all our
lives wasted, but there was one in the family who smiled
someone who thought that mother simply did what she liked best
clean the dirt, mop the floors, get all the spider's cobwebs
someone sees the beauty of mother, she's doing her chores still
but now unseen
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life and human society are the chief concern of Confucianism and, through it, the chief concern of the Chinese people.
From All Sides of Those Common Playing Fields
Ridiculed for saying things they meant.
Including less flattering statements,
About those in leadership positions...
And those who falsely ruled in government.
Now that those leaders and the economy,
Have taken a nose dive...
How can those mend burned bridges,
With the others they wrongly criticized?
How can deception so deep,
Now tossing and turning those feeling like fools...
Return them to a peaceful sleep?
When those who once respected one another,
Now don't care to each other to speak?
Well...
It's like this,
IF you participated in slandering those who had your back...
Because folks who care for others are like that.
Would you suddenly want to have a picnic,
To enjoy games and snacks?
With those who calculated...
In their character assassinations?
How would you feel if a friend campaigned,
To have you called crazy?
Would you want to sing with them,
The 'Hills Are Alive' with the sounds of music.
Collecting Daffodils and picking Daisies?
Eating and tasting from a selection of hors d'oeuvres...
And clicking glasses filled with champagne,
To lift those damaged and tainted 'spirits'?
To re-establish depths of concern?
Somehow...
I doubt it!
Complete lives have forever been ruined,
From all sides of those common playing fields...
Left to sit in unrelenting bitterness.
I doubt if hugging and kissing are acts,
That are yearned!
Not in the reality of things...
Bruised and busted!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Riddle Of The Matriarch...
clueless
everything in the room is made neat
you feel what clean is
those cup boards and
plates
not a dust
not a mark of dried water
just perfect
clueless i think of you
but there is a distance that knows
how far roads can be made near
how a house can be
reachable despite the length of the hills
the height of skies
you have know
the stained spot
no one bothers to call it its own name
everyone has that inkling
to clean it by itself
even me
there was never a time
at dawn
and evenings are too visible
and mornings are too preoccupied
and busy
it is like a rock in the middle of the road
cars change directions not to hit it
people who see it
do not have the power to remove it
but all wanted it removed somehow
a pain in the eye
no one dares and it is always there
and it will always be
a bruise on the cheek
even during your death
when you give that last smile of concern
you did not mention
a syllable about it
i know you were so hurt
it is me all those times beside you
and still you never said a word about it....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Concern for man himself and his fate must always form the chief interest of all technical endeavors, concern for the great unsolved problems of the organization of labor and the distribution of goods--in order that the creations of our mind shall be a blessing and not a curse to mankind. Never forget this in the midst of your diagrams and equations.
quote by Albert Einstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yet, Undefined But Welcoming
Almost but not quite,
Prepared to leave behind...
All remnants of doubt,
Completely with a clean slate...
For a broadened point of view,
From the hold of familiar darkness.
As shadows one questions but hides behind,
No longer offers an escape.
A developing need seeks to reach,
And stretch with more of life to find.
Almost but not quite,
Convinced that the embrace of light...
Can and will replace those common fears,
One had grown accustomed to taste...
As if craved so available and near.
To examine with a mind beginning to bloom,
To open.
With a wanting of more,
That appears to be free of limitations etched.
Yet, undefined but...welcoming to accept.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To my mind, the best SF addresses itself to problems of the here and now, or even to problems which have never been solved and never will be solved - I'm thinking of Philip K. Dick's work here, dealing with questions of reality, for example.
quote by John Sladek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Keep It Clean
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
So hard they've tried to reflect perfection.
A wholesome outlook,
With good deeds done they do!
They want to project a godlike self righteousness.
With wings adorned and hymns sung!
Angelic voices from everyone,
Harmonizing,
In collective united bliss.
But the truth about this...
There is BS that sits within their midst,
And not one of them can resist
An addicting sniff!
Since they are all full of it!
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
Something kept stinking...
From fat greasy meat.
Suited and smoking cigars,
Chartering planes with high profiled stars.
And posing with those who piloted...
The sucking up of all resources.
As admirers rejoiced!
Thinking they heard 'voices' from beyond...
'You too could live like this!
We'll make sure of it! '
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
Screwing fools!
'Keep it clean! '
That's what they do best!
'Keep the scene serene.
Deodorize the stench that leaks.
Protect that image.
And hide the blood left...
To leave as expected on urban streets! '
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
By the time it surfaces...
There will be nothing left to squander.
And the fools we duped with treason,
Will have nothing left to value...
And very little to say!
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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