Not Even In Their Places Kept Secret
Remember when you thought it fun,
To dump on those
You believed had no allies to come?
And you did this,
With abandonment.
Blinded with merriment,
To pick and choose who to inflict.
Well,
As you enjoyed those moments with glee...
Those you depicted as your enemies,
Never considered to employ the use weapons...
To release upon you their grief!
There is no revengeful need to approach you in that way.
Not when truth produces such power...
That reveals and exposes,
Minds like yours devoured by their own deceit.
They will not have anywhere to rest in peace.
Not even in their places kept secret!
Not even if a return to the cracks and crevices,
From where they crawled...
Should smothered them in darkness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Highly Suspicious Of The Lack Of Authenticity
How can a lie lived by anyone protect?
Or mosquito netting adorned by a mosquito...
Keep one from being bitten,
If already living in a nest of them.
Someone is not accepting,
What to me should have been confessed.
'You...
And the rest of us,
ARE...
In fact,
Mosquitoes.
Yes!
It is true.
That overdressing you do overkills.
From it you should undo.
Weep 'not' my child!
Look around you.
There's not a fly in the bunch! '
I never understood those who choose,
To walk on paths in a forest...
And afraid to confront insects.
Or build fabulous homes where no one roams,
Yet they brag about having an arsenal of weapons...
To feel safe and protected.
From what...
Common sense?
One drenched in trinkets,
And smothered by coverings of plastic...
Does not hide behind masks that crack.
But no one using a mind to think,
Can approach them to tell them that.
Or show them that a wear and tear from usage...
Produces signs of overindulgence.
How can a lie lived by anyone protect?
And from what?
Others also spicing a life lived in deception mode?
Those blinded by the shining of rusting bling?
THINGS that dust untouched and from them no love...
Is heard to be stated,
Much!
Or at all.
A lie eventually exposes everything.
And if one is connected to Mother Nature,
Like we all are...
Since there is no escaping from Her.
Who amongst any of us,
Can successfully masquerade as a tree?
Without another tree knowing?
OR being highly suspicious,
Of the lack of authenticity!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Deceit They Perceive Is Hidden
I have never believed,
I was always right.
Or believed my opinions expressed,
Were the best.
No! An operating done on fumes of ego,
Is such a waste of reality.
And seeking excuses to make for my actions,
Is too exhausting for my peace of mind.
And there are more offended,
By the appearance of truth.
Than they are disrespecting someone,
With a deceit they perceive is hidden from others.
And the concealing of truth is difficult to do,
For anyone keeping it with them to introduce.
Since a truth introduced is not to be disputed.
It is what it is to defeat deceit each and every time.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Beauteous Forest Vavroovahana Patra
Beauteous is the forest;
In summer provides oxygen.
Tranquilises creatures minds, provides peace, merriment.
The forest is beautiful, mother’s shrine smiles in the forest, devotees
are delightful.
Beneath the trees shade passers-by rest a while, chilly breeze kisses
The passers-by gaudily;
Passers-by enchant peacefully.
Poets rest a while, depict beauteous poems enthusiastically;
Inhale pure oxygen gladly.
The green forest is a Gift of Almighty;
In all poets mind provides peace, gaiety.
Poet depicts the Eternal Truth of life;
Provides peace in human minds, evaporates grief.
I pray my mother Sarala Daily;
Mind derives perennial peace cheerfully.
Chanting hymns I derive peace;
Singing mother’s devotional songs derive bliss.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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If Power Alone Was the Ingredient
Is the power to be divisive,
Power given to provide one's own defeat?
Is the power to induce conflict misdirected?
Since this power driven,
Produces more of a madness.
Clear and complete.
If power alone was the ingredient,
To satisfy the masses as an instrument for peace.
Why does that power increase chaos?
And why is there little of that peace released?
If power alone was the ingredient,
To satisfy the masses as an instrument for peace!
Especially when no mention is made,
To a mixture fixed in spirituality...
With intent of purpose displayed to save!
If religiously applied,
By those who say...
They pray faithfully and obey!
And to 'who' and 'what'...
Generates a response to inflict those solutions,
To confuse with permission...
The ones listening who become impressed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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With A Bluntness That Hits
Who is it that travels on the path of truth,
Ultimately finding they are alone.
And unpopular?
Who is it that reveals they speak without deceit,
And become greeted by opposition...
From many they meet.
People today,
Are addicted to the sweet taste of delusion.
Anyone confusing their needs for a fix...
With a bluntness that hits,
Is considered a misfit!
Who is it that travels on the path of truth,
Ultimately finding they are alone.
And unpopular?
Who is it that reveals they speak without deceit,
And become greeted by opposition...
From many they meet.
In times when people are seeking,
More feeding of their fantasies
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Chronicles Of A Day Stranded In Nature Part 2 Ground Zero
Shells exploding all around
Only one audible sound...
The sound... the booming sound of war
Not clashes of swords, praised in ancient lore
No i talk about the exchange of gunfire
One side shooting the other sometimes not knowing why
They know only what told. Whether it be from a liar
Or porpagand, they can't tell al they know is die
Either die or kill
March up this hill
Fight, shoot, reload, shoot again, kill, hear
the screams of allies and enemies together, who shed more than a tear
Allies and enemies dotted with blood
Death in their faces
When each side goes to pick up their own
Not one man can tell apart races
Enemies and foes and allies and fellows all
dead... all alike, not a man can tell
One bloodied body from another, no more fell
Is there no mercy... none, not in war
poem by David Knox
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No One Knows Who With This Sits
How can anyone suspect,
An undetected resentment.
If one in secret keeps this protected.
Until those moments come to expose it.
To inflict and leave,
A venomous deed.
Deceit has been bred to feed,
Too long.
No one knows who slithers with it.
Before bitten.
No one knows who with this sits.
Keeping it hidden.
This should be forbidden,
But isn't!
How can anyone suspect,
An undetected resentment.
If one in secret keeps this protected.
Until those moments come to expose it.
To inflict and leave,
A venomous deed.
No one knows who with this sits.
Keeping it hidden.
This should be forbidden,
But isn't!
Deceit has been bred to feed,
Too long.
No one knows who slithers with it.
Before bitten.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fugitives
Of course there are those,
Who oppose sweeping changes.
Many of them accustomed,
To maintaining a snob appeal.
With a stunning realization,
Their tactics to hide flaws and character degradations...
Behind insecurities they decided,
Would be best to divide...
Those in groups,
They duped to choose to demoralize.
Has them on the run.
And not for sport or fun to be done.
Now the experience of the clearing of the field...
Yields their debris.
And produces screams...
'Where is the justice?
Where is 'our' democracy? '
ATTENTION. ATTENTION!
Now hear this...
~On the field of your endeavors!
That's where the yielding exposes your deeds.
And 'rights' to exploit without insight.
Your democracy has been sold, '
To those overseas.~
Of course there are those,
Who enjoyed being 'they' and 'them'.
And to be subjected,
To effective disrespect...
Without definite identities.
Pleasing many of them,
To just lay low as victims.
In minority blends,
And considered non-entities.
A status that leaves many quite pleased.
That declaration keeps them hidden,
From accountability.
With fears their incompetence,
Would someday have a visibility.
And accusations shared,
Would no longer be a necessity.
As an openness,
Would set them free.
A freedom not before conceived.
*We are now free?
Why? *
And divisions between those of pretensions,
And those oppressed by deceitful deeds.
Eventually becomes more apparent,
As to who has been enslaved.
By lifestyles generated in dishonesty.
And who accepted scaps,
As a shallowing done...
While feasting on superficial greed.
Of course there are those,
Who oppose sweeping changes.
Of course there are those,
Who enjoyed being 'they' and 'them.
Now all affected have been left,
With addictions that transfixed.
In traumatic depression.
And a fear of reality,
That attacks their fantasies.
Fantasies fed.
And...
In their minds sit fixed!
All affected have been left.
In traumatic depression.
And fears of reality.
As fantasies kept deluded,
Refuses truth...
In the mix.
Standards and values are being attacked.
As they sit fixed in minds denying...
They are suspects.
And they are...
Fugitives left clue and witless.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Promises Made Were Broken
Promises made were broken,
As unknown shadows crept from crevices...
Stealthily upon shoulders to cast.
It was then high noon with a Sun showing bright,
Above a cloudless horizon.
While those stood with a happiness to clench,
Surrounded by scents of merriment...
Increasing an anticipation to them sent.
And then those makers of storms warned,
A ripple of darkness would come to forlorn.
And they came...
To dash upon them rain and hopelessness.
And it seemed within moments,
Fears were instilled to revisit.
Creating division to descend upon good intentions.
As tears from eyes were then released,
To prove to all witnessing their grief...
That those promises made would be impossible to keep.
Promises made were broken,
As unknown shadows crept from crevices...
Stealthily upon shoulders to cast.
There had been dire deed doers hiding in darkness,
Believing they held the reigns...
Of enjoying the last laugh.
But...
Those keepers of faith erased this fate.
While those promises made unintentionally broken,
Were mended to restore, implement and renew.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pointless To Make Attempts WITH Common Sense
Is a power taken,
The same as a power given?
And how much power,
Does a power that has been taken have...
If those that did not give it,
Deem it as useless?
And if those who deem a power taken,
As being useless...
How powerful can that power remain?
And over what or whom,
Does one with useless power...
Have it kept in their minds believed?
It is pointless to make attempts,
WITH common sense...
To anyone who has money,
That money hoarded has no power at all.
It is only when it is distributed,
That the power of it is most effective.
One's greed,
Eventually defeats a blinded perception.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Eyes To See And Ears To Hear
My friend, you can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink,
And so you can fill a man with wisdom, but he can't eternally think.
He can have eyes like both you and I and see colors of every kind,
But point him to the things above and he is often spiritually blind.
Many men listen to and even heed the advice given by a fellow peer,
But speak to them The Word of God and they will not be able to hear.
It seemed so easy for you and me, so why yet have they not believed?
Christ may seem obvious to you and me but friend they are deceived.
For the god of this world has blinded the minds of those perishing,
And unless we speak God's Truth Satan's lies will keep flourishing.
They perish because they refuse to embrace the Truth and be saved,
So God has given them over to their lusts to become utterly depraved.
But we can't be hasty and forget the life which we were saved from,
And how someone cared and pointed us to The Kingdom soon to come.
For we were all born into this world of sin where wrong seems right,
Led by our old nature we lived in darkness as children of the night.
But by God's Grace, The Spirit came upon us and gave us new sight.
And we were saved out of that darkness and brought into His Light.
For it is by the power of The Blood that we are no longer deceived,
And by His Grace we were then given ears to hear and truly believed.
Please Excuse Me While I Kick Myself
Please excuse me,
While I kick myself...
With a bit of bruising.
Only I can do this.
And I have proven it.
You can choose to stand back and watch.
Or assist if you wish!
Please excuse me,
While I kick myself...
With a bit of bruising.
I would not say it is enjoyed.
Nor do I inflict the kicking,
With a stiffer swiftness...
I'm sure you would employ.
But since I am doing it,
Submit your suggestions...
With multiple choices,
As to why I have reasons to abuse myself...
Where others find these 'areas' comfortably spreading.
And I am not pleased to sit with ease.
Please excuse me,
While I kick myself...
With a bit of bruising.
I have discovered myself to be impatient.
And if I inflict my own pain,
The sensation of it keeps me motivated.
Applied to re-energize,
An acceptance I reject and despise.
Upon the arrival of malaise.
Many express with wishes to have stay.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Will Remember My Strength
Remember that door
You closed on me?
Remember my grief,
You enjoyed seeing me release?
Remember the moans from my anguish,
And screams?
It's your turn to wear that suit.
And like me...
You will not find your needs or wishes,
Addressed.
Or to mean anything,
By those unimpressed.
And you will not experience it...
The rejection I lived with!
But you will remember my strength.
Since it came to become my own to contain.
With much less support...
You campaigned to gain,
To silence your collection of whimpers.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Remember
I remember moments of happiness
Coming home, goo goo eyed
After talking to a boy I liked
I remember moments of sadness
Coming home, teary eyed
After leaving my heart as a memento
To that boy I really liked
I remember moments of peace
After winning one of life's battles
Having a conscience the weight of air
I remember moments of bliss
After walking the quarter of a lifemile
Finding a true friend
I remember moments of grief
After finding that dear friend
Would never have breakfast again
I remember moments of laughter
After the past had past
And the rearview revealed frustration's
humor
I remember moments of tears nectar
When I found my dreams dead
After the doctor helped me number my
days
I remember moments of pain
When all I ever needed was lacked
And all I ever lacked was needed
I remember moments of gain
After all I ever wanted was mine
And all I ever wanted to be was I
I remember moments of love
When a hug made my heart skip
And a smile made my life smile
I remember moments of hurt
When pain blurred love's beauty
And that hug made my heart shrug
I remember moments like this
When I remember all I remember
And remember that life is but a moment.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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What Call For Prayer?
What call for prayer,
there is oft no time
or thought for prayer
when a friend’s brain
bleeds pink and his body
convulses spastically,
head shoot already dead,
while death stalks fresh
meat and fresh fear feasts,
on young hearts
still camouflaged living
haunted minds
weapons clutched
raw wounds ready
to inflict upon
unknown enemies
wearing uniforms
we do not wear.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Song Of The Allies
We are the Allies of God to-day,
And the width of the earth is our right of way.
Let no man question or ask us why,
As we speed to answer a wild world cry;
Let no man hinder or ask us where,
As out over water and land we fare;
For whether we hurry, or whether we wait,
We follow the finger of guiding fate.
We are the Allies. We differ in faith,
But are one in our courage at thought of death.
Many and varied the tongues we speak,
But one and the same is the goal we seek.
And the goal we seek is not power or place,
But the peace of the world, and the good of the race.
And little matters the colour of skin,
When each heart under it beats to win.
We are the Allies; we fight or fly,
We wallow in trenches like pigs in a sty,
We dive under water to foil a foe,
We wait in quarters, or rise and go.
And staying or going, or near or far,
One thought is ever our guiding star:
We are the Allies of God to-day,
We are the Allies-make way! make way!
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Put Down Your Weapons
Put down your weapons!
What do you defend?
Your right to bury natives,
Upon their own land?
What images of grandeur
Do you perceive?
Bugle calls from cavalier mountings...
Will not come forth descending,
With surrounding cavalries
Conquesting in glee and bravado!
What messages do you send...
To ancestors awakened from this grief?
Your ways to conquer peace,
Has been defeated by barbaric imaginings!
Put down your weapons!
The alarms that ring,
Come from your own shores you sell...
And leave abandoned and unfenced!
Your backyards are beginning to burn in flames!
And yet you stake claim to treasures not yours.
Not worthy of the blood you shed,
Or interests of those displeased by the cost of guilt!
Put down your weapons,
Or eternally bow your head,
In sorrow with no guarantee...
You will be recognized,
At your own doorstep that has been sold
Prior to your return
Of any valor professed to have earned!
These are not those days to relive in glory!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Will Come To Know The Obvious
Why is that crowd over there...
Backed up into a corner.
Bickering.
AND pointing fingers at one another?
'Well...
As the story goes...
They had been the movers and shakers.
Determined many years ago,
That they would advance themselves...
By chosing people to depict as their enemies.'
Enemies?
'Yep!
As the story goes.
Now they have become a fixture around here,
As a reference to those days long gone.
And also...
Folks come from all over the globe,
To be entertained by their shananigans.'
That's amusing and quite interesting.
What has happened to those,
They once had depicted as their enemies?
Do you see the people walking up and down the street freely,
Appearing as happily and unconcerned as if nothing...
But the doing as they wish,
Is their utmost priority?
'No...
Don't tell me.
They are not the ones that had been depicted as enemies? '
Okay.
I wont tell you.
However...
If you prolong you visit,
You will come to know the obvious for yourself.
And they unconsciously,
Backed themselves up into that corner.
And everyday they return to the same place...
To argue about their version of unity,
And what is good for the community.
'Aren't their tactics a bit outdated? '
Sssshhh.
Someone will hear you.
And we've become quite satisfiied,
With the keeping of things...
Just the way they are.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Disconnect From the Hustle
Take moments at a time,
To experience complete relief.
Burdens shouldered on your back,
Should be considered as your duty...
To freely release and unstrap.
Manage the advantage,
Of a total needed rest.
Confessions of a selfishness...
Is not yours to manifest.
Or explorations of guilt,
Internalize to upset...
With self inflicted protests.
Take moments at a time,
To experience complete relief.
Burdens shouldered on your back,
Should be considered as your duty...
To freely release and unstrap.
Disconnect from the hustle.
Relax and enjoy that!
Disconnect from the hustle.
Feel deserving,
Not trapped.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Options of Deceit
I would find truth offensive too...
If I had not allowed myself a break,
From my delusions.
And what I discovered about truth...
Had me dilute those delusions,
Until I was able to let them go completely.
I did not know truth and honesty...
Were not options of deceit?
Did you?
I believed deceit was used,
To protect those afraid to be too honest.
And I had heard that truth hurts.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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