Nothing On This Earth
I did not arrive to toil for anyone's fancy,
Or their foils to have me grieve.
I am here to get work done.
And if I'm shunned that's okay,
You've elected to leave me that way!
That's my only obligation...
To produce for God!
And there will not be any other way!
No matter how strange.
Or job I do with a look you find odd!
Your decision to keep me suppressed...
Only produces not supercede your duress.
And nothing on this Earth your ignorance has done,
Will succeed to accomplish anything...
Unless it's defeat you declare you have won!
I answer to The Almighty.
Not just the whims of anyone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Work! Work! And Reap!
Work! Work! Work! And Reap!
Work! Work! Work! And Sleep!
Everyday most of we work
Some of us love to work
Some of us just want to rock
Some of us want to lie on a beach or take a walk
If we had our way, we could spend all day and talk
But work we all must
Or our lifestyles will go bust!
We may then have to readjust
To unacceptable standards of living in disgust
Work! Work! Work! And Reap!
Work! Work! Work! And Sleep!
We all have different professions
Some of us have silent confessions
We fancy someone at work with an obsession
Work is then fun with a passion until confusion
Work! Work! Work! And Reap!
Work! Work! Work! And Sleep!
There are jobs that are monotonous
The atmosphere is negatively outrageous
Nothing in the air signifies hilarious
Every single person is always very serious
Sometimes played at work
Is the kind of politics
That makes one quite sick
This is where the strong kick
Kick hardest the backside of the weak
But work we all must
Or our lifestyles will go bust!
As we find ourselves lost
And then try hard to readjust
So do we swallow?
Or is fighting back shallow
Will it leave in your pocket a dent that is hollow?
Or produce a scene labeled horror
Enough to leave you in tears of sorrow
I don't have all the answers
I know work is a living cancer
People at work ought to be a little nicer
Everyone needs to make a living including a dancer!
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Everybody is a Critic.
Why do we oppose and judge others?
Nobody knows the answer,
Humanity comes with these trades
Which makes life on Earth tougher.
Most people think they know a better solution,
However, only a few have the right to the decision,
Which means it is a challenge only for those,
No matter what they choose, it is their work dose.
Everybody makes mistakes in the eyes of others,
Which is not important anyway,
It is the person with the challenge
Who has to learn what to do and what to say.
Some people have to make small decisions,
Some have to do big, important ones,
So, make your decision what is connected to you,
And stand up for it, follow through.
This is the only way you learn,
If you make decisions the best you can do,
In reality there will be always who don't like it,
So, be yourself, but always answer for your deeds too.
When people learns not to pick on things
And their criticizing they will dismiss
Then their soul will be at peace,
They'll enjoy their own life in perfect bliss.
poem by LaSoaphia QuXazs
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Those Lips Poked Out
Today I declare mine.
No complaint will I find...
Or spend my time whining.
Today I declare mine.
And the rays of Sun,
Will shine on me.
And I will smile all day,
Happily.
And today I declare,
I am fine as can be.
Unaccepted is the frowning,
From those lips poked out people...
Who are not going to upset or bother me.
I declare war against those who are sore losers.
Those who have chosen to see themselves miserable...
Enjoying defeat and pity!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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These Are All Questions
who you keep a twisted view
of your world? you ask me?
why do you ask me if i have a
twisted view of the world?
have you seen how i have seen
this world to be twisted?
did you say that living if just
a cliche? how did you arrive at
that answer?
do we keep going now?
what time do we leave?
and be apart? for good? for life?
for death?
what time is it? what shall you do
now? do i have to keep bugging you?
and you bugging me too?
what day is it? what mood?
what decision? what is your decision?
why? why? do we always have
to ask why?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Looking For The Final Light
Each one of us is searching for an end, well before its'due to arrive.
Each trying to contend, in life we strive.
Searching for an answer, a meaning, consciously or dreaming.
As to what and why we are in the universe?
Does everything and everyone serve a purpose?
It doesn't matter if you believe in the‘almighty',
Deep inside the seed of doubt blows,
Because mankind needs the mental security.
This is the reality everyone knows!
31/12/87
poem by Guy Lipmore
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Ain't Gonna Grieve
by Bob Dylan
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
And ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Come on brother, join the band,
Come on sisters, clap your hands,
Tell everybody that's in the land,
You ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
And ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Brown and blue and white and black,
All one color on the one-way track,
We got this far and ain't a-goin' back
And ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
I ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
We're gonna notify your next of kin,
You're gonna raise the roof until the house falls in.
If you get knocked down get up again,
We ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
I ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
We'll sing this song all night long,
Sing it to my baby from midnight on.
She'll sing it to you when I'm dead and gone,
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
I ain't a-gonna grieve no more
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I would point out that the cultural advance of these people has been suppressed in the past and continues to be suppressed in the present by policies designed to keep them in ignorance.
quote by Hideki Tojo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Elected (live)
I'm your top prime cut of meat, I'm your choice
I wanna be elected
I'm a yankee doodle dandy in a gold Rolls Royce
I wanna be elected
The kids need a savior, they don't want a fake
I wanna be elected
We're all gonna rock to the rules that I make
I wanna be elected
Elected
Elected
Respected
I wanna be selected
I never lied to you, I've always been cool
I wanna be elected
I have to get the votes, I told you about school
I wanna be elected
Elected
Elected
Hallelujah
I wanna be selected, come on
Ooh yeah
We're gonna rock this place, take the country by storm
I wanna be elected
You and me together, young and strong
I wanna be elected
Elected
Elected
Respected, selected, call collected
I wanna be elected, oh, oh, come on
This time
song performed by by Def Leppard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time is essence
Time is essence and important factor
We are here only stage actor
Perform the allotted role and act
As it will be advisable and real fact
What you did in past does not matter
Leave it to almighty who is our ultimate master
You trust him and may find an answer
As you may then find chance to go closer
Time may teach you all about
It may prevent possible fall out
You will be taken through enemy lines
Come out from it with after pushing them into sidelines
Leave behind no bleak past
As you will have to move fast
No time will be afforded
As you will be successfully boarded
You may fly high and certainly try
As rest all be left high and dry
You have all the stars within hand
The glorious future is seen at the end
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Desperation
I'm out of work.
There's a boilin' in my head.
I'm out of work.
The time has come I dread
to make a decision
'bout what I'm gonna do.
Shall I jump ship
and leave it all to you?
I've been walkin' the streets
tryin' to find some pay.
But all I ever find
at the end of my day
is tiredness and not one cent
to help me make my way.
I'm out of work.
There's a boilin' in my head.
I'm out of work.
Sometimes
I wish that I were dead.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Earth Is Not A Commodity To Waste
It is sad to see,
All of humanity being destroyed by greed.
It feels hopeless to witness,
Nature making attempts to convince Earth's inhabitants...
Without them protecting it with concern,
All life as it is known...
Will be eliminated with this one lesson to be learned:
~Ungrateful and foolish are those in conflict who believe,
They can live here on Earth to choose destruction as they please.
And still live to receive benefit.
By the fostering to maintain their sustained ignorance of it.~
Earth is not a commodity to waste as if it is easy to amputate,
What is disliked by the few who ignite division.
A thinking and feeling Earth could care less,
Who amongst those leeching to feed upon it...
Profess to be better than the rest.
It is here to endear and provide for all of its creations
And if it decides all life should end...
So be it of its own making with a choice to do to accomplish.
And yes...
Those with kept and divisive religious beliefs,
Will have nothing to do with Earth's decision.
No faked praise is going to save lives.
Earth can be a 'mother' in these situations.
With a strictness descending upon those given.
~You better recognize! ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Litany (Cavatina Sequence)
(after Sir Philip Sidney)
Once huge church bells did ring at our wedding,
but love is gone,
as a plague its infected, by your whims has spread;
another one
finds grace in your eyes, now knows your deep flesh,
while like some stone
what was ours is petrified into dust,
good almighty Lord God, deliver us.
What once was high and holy is now dead,
only pain remain
while you acted very unscrupulous,
could not explain
your own female infatuating fancy
and then to gain
you breached our holy, pure, solemn trust
good almighty Lord God, deliver us.
No dirge, lament or even a prayer
can change your mind,
even if I at times do in pain weep
you stay unkind,
rushes away, with your eyes set and does
your lover find;
from a women that acts to true love thus,
good almighty Lord God, deliver us.
[Reference: “A Litany” by Sir Philip Sidney.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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If I Was President
Election times coming.
Who you gonna vote for?
If I was President,
I'd get elected on Friday,
Assasinated on Saturday,
Burried on Sunday, then go back to work on Monday.
If I was President, If I was President, If I was President
Instead of spendin' Billions on the war,
I could use that money so I can feed the poor.
Cause I know some so poor, when it rains that's when they shower
Screamin' "Fight the power!" That's when the vulture devours.
If I was President,
I'd get elected on Friday,
Assasinated on Saturday,
Burried on Sunday. Then go back to work on Monday
If I was President, If I was President, If I was President.
I know some soldiers that sleep but they can't dream,
Wake up with screams, sounds of them succeed.
So take this medal of honor for your bravery,
I wish you the best care for you and your family.
If I was President,
I'd get elected on Friday,
Assasinated on Saturday,
Burried on Sunday, then go back to work on Monday.
If I was President, If I was President, If I was President.
But the radio won't play this. They call it rebel music.
How can you refuse it? Children of Moses.
Tell the children the truth, the truth.
It's not all that bling that's dimonds.
Tell them the truth, the truth.
Most of yall wear cubics of zycomians.
Tell them the truth, the truth.
Your soldiers worth more than diamonds.
Yeah, If I was President
All blacks have reperation no segregation
Feed the nation until there's no famine Muslims, Jews, Christians
would all hold hands, every week on the beach party by the sand
Word up, take trips on Air Force One,
No need to bring no homless with no sneaks to Air Force One.
Better schools in the hood, better teachers for the classes,
making money, paying no taxes.
Find the best scientist tell'em come up with an answer, I want the
cure for aids and cancer. But I gotta watch my back sniper gonna
heal with the steel waitin for JFK.
If I was President, If I was President.
I'd get elected on Friday,
Assasinated on Saturday,
Burried on Sunday, then go back to work on Monday.
If I was President, If I was President.
I feel the rain comming let me play the guitar for them right now.
(let's go)
Rescue g's
Yeah!
song performed by by Wyclef Jean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Is Fancy?
SISTER.
I am to write three lines, and you
Three others that will rhyme.
There-now I've done my task.
BROTHER.
Three stupid lines as e'er I knew.
When you've the pen next time,
Some question of me ask.
SISTER.
Then tell me, brother, and pray mind,
Brother, you tell me true:
What sort of thing is fancy?
BROTHER.
By all that I can ever find,
'Tis something that is very new,
And what no dunces can see.
SISTER.
That is not half the way to tell
What fancy is about;
So pray now tell me more.
BROTHER.
Sister, I think 'twere quite as well
That you should find it out;
So think the matter o'er.
SISTER.
It's what comes in our heads when we
Play at 'Let's-make-believe,'
And when we play at 'Guessing.'
BROTHER.
And I have heard it said to be
A talent often makes us grieve,
And sometimes proves a blessing.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Races Run and Done Just For Fun
Winning races,
Use to mean...
A change of pace,
Of those high stakes placed...
With a bet!
And this would excite
Those who made them with delight.
With a feeling 'something' has been won.
Today,
Races are run...
To go through motions!
These races run and done just for fun,
Are done just for the running.
Not to accomplish a thing for anyone.
Even the serious ones who have grown tired of the fun,
Done...
Are feeling a numbness from those races run.
With the best of political dupings pooped!
With hollow victories achieving nothing.
But a cheering of excitement heard,
From everyone.
In the beginning.
Then a stirring of jeers from those disappointed.
Find expectations resume a familiarity.
Leaving empty promises mouthed but not yet begun.
And a stagnated movement,
Returns with clarity.
A clarity of reality once hushed and shunned.
And everyone begins to see...
These races run to go through motions,
Produces for them...
Hollow victories.
And banners once held high,
Are hidden.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nurtured and Flourishing
Obsessed.
Obsessed,
With what they believe...
Flatters.
Like looks.
Fashion.
And bling that comes adorned.
Things that to them matter!
Like images.
And 'things' to them that are physical.
Things to them,
Worn!
Mindsets of limited consciousness.
And yet...
Some become upset,
If their flaunting goes ignored.
Perceiving one they select,
To flatter.
Accepts,
In a contained self-centeredness.
And...
Is possessed.
By the receipt,
Complete in one's observation...
Of their obsessions.
Nurtured and flourishing in deceit!
But this thought process...
Has never been one to digest,
By those who live to accomplish deeds.
In total acceptance of how they are perceived.
To satisfy those whims given...
And from them to leave!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mundane Toil
Life in itself is quite mundane, as each new day is quite the same.
Being in the world’s daily grind, can really weary ones poor mind.
Daily routines do not change, as their frustrations remain the same.
Painful toil throughout the days, wears on your being in many ways.
A far cry from a garden of bliss, that peaceful place man must miss.
All is attributed to Adam’s fall, the ground was cursed, do you recall?
Now thorns and thistles cover earth, as woman has pain in child birth,
And woman’s desire is for her man, as her sin had altered God’s plan.
Man from the sweat of his brow, must work to feed a family somehow.
And all just seems to get worse, and all because of that original curse.
One day there will be no more curse, and no more toil upon this earth.
In a New Heaven and a New Earth, all toil shall become eternal mirth.
As we serve God with joy and bliss, the former earth, we will not miss.
Pain and hurt shall be no more, as we eternally serve The Risen Lord.
And there will flow The Water of Life, from the Throne of Jesus Christ.
On each side of The River of Life, there for all will be The Tree of Life,
To produce fruit throughout the year, for all of the nations, far and near.
The leaves will heal every nation, who has come to Christ for Salvation.
With Christ the center and The Light, Eternity shall have no more night,
With no more darkness or toil friend, it is a blissful eternity with no end.
With Words To Express, Define Or Explain
Smothered under thick layers of lies!
Suppressed by deceptions,
That keeps them self obsessed...
To excuse with alibis.
And no longer accepting the affects of self examination.
With cleared and open wider eyes.
They are first taught to assume positions,
Of being the center of the Universe.
Although from where they sit on Earth,
No one knows where up or down is.
Or if they are witnessing the left or right of it.
They learn to judge,
From lessons learned from birth first...
That whatever else exists,
From delusions quick to depict themselves...
Flawless.
There is a need to believe this ridiculousness,
Regardless of reality...
They wish with attempts to reverse.
And to curse those who are conscious...
With broadening observations,
Sought to seek and within them thirst.
With restricting limits,
Many self righteous think of others immediately...
By values and standards crumbling beneath their feet.
But yet refuse to see their own self imposing defeat,
From a medicating on maintaining minds addicted to fantasies.
And denying the existence of truth,
There to reduce their increasing agonies enforced and produced.
No matter how overwhelming the evidence,
Of a need for them to awaken from a maddening ignorance.
They've become too addicted to free and release to leave behind.
And unfortunate for them are these times we live,
That are completely out of their control...
Unfolding!
For all to behold with nothing left to be said,
With words to express, define or explain.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Let Them 'Naysay' On
To the naysayers,
What can be said?
I believe they should be left alone!
We all have missions
Upon which we have embarked.
There is something we have elected,
To accomplish
On 'our' paths.
We seek to do that which we are here to do!
Aren't we?
And so are they!
So let's leave those naysayers to do what they do best!
Let them 'naysay' on...
With a satisfaction that brings a peace of mind,
If any of that they manage to find!
And we all know...
Accompanied by very little rest!
Within them there is an absence
Of that kind of mind!
And let us aspire to our own quests!
No one here should be seeking...
Requests from the naysayers' nests!
And on our time they would wish to take,
To indulge themselves and perfect their tests!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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How Do You Tackle Your Work
How do you tackle your work each day?
Are you scared of the job you find?
Do you grapple the task that comes your way
With a confident, easy mind?
Do you stand right up to the work ahead
Or fearfully pause to view it?
Do you start to toil with a sense of dread?
Or feel that you're going to do it?
You can do as much as you think you can,
But you'll never accomplish more;
If you're afraid of yourself, young man,
There's little for you in store.
For failure comes from the inside first,
It's there if we only knew it,
And you can win, though you face the worst,
If you feel that you're going to do it.
Success! It's found in the soul of you,
And not in the realm of luck!
The world will furnish the work to do,
But you must provide the pluck.
You can do whatever you think you can,
It's all in the way you view it.
It's all in the start you make, young man:
You must feel that you're going to do it.
How do you tackle your work each day?
With confidence clear, or dread?
What to yourself do you stop and say
When a new task lies ahead?
What is the thought that is in your mind?
Is fear ever running through it?
If so, just tackle the next you find
By thinking you're going to do it.
--From "A Heap o' Linin'," by Edgar A. Guest
I tackle my terrible job each day
With a fear that is well defined;
And I grapple the task that comes my way
With no confidence in my mind.
I try to evade the work ahead,
As I fearfully pause to view it,
And I start to toil with a sense of dread,
And doubt that I'm going to do it.
I can't do as much as I think I can,
And I never accomplish more.
I am scared to death of myself, old man,
As I may have observed before.
I've read the proverbs of Charley Schwab,
Carnegie, and Marvin Hughitt;
But whenever I tackle a difficult job,
O gosh! I hate to do it!
I try to believe in my vaunted power
With that confident kind of bluff,
But somebody tells me The Conning Tower
Is nothing but awful stuff.
And I take up my impotent pen that night,
And idly and sadly chew it,
As I try to write something merry and bright,
And I know that I shall not do it.
And that's how I tackle my work each day--
With terror and fear and dread--
And all I can see is a long array
Of empty columns ahead.
And those are the thoughts that are in my mind,
And that's about all there's to it.
As long as there's work, of whatever kind,
I'm certain I cannot do it.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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