Observed and Watched
No probing done to unearth artifacts,
Will begin to scratch the surface...
Of the thought process of anyone.
Or is the measuring of one's brain,
Going to reveal the extent of one's brilliance.
Or lack of integrity.
Will having a college degree,
Determine's one ability to steal?
Lie or cheat.
Can someone seen picking up cans,
Off a city street...
Be a genius.
Are there more scholars that are poor...
And living in ghettos?
Why do those who 'appear' to be enriched with means,
Are those who did not participate in the acquiring of them...
At all!
Those of 'hand-me-down' status.
Of wealth. resources...
Socialite insecurities.
Those who have made countries poor...
For the sake of maintaining their 'interests'.
No probing done to unearth artifacts,
Will begin to scratch the surface...
Of the thought process of anyone.
Or is the measuring of one's brain,
Going to reveal the extent of one's brilliance.
Or lack of integrity.
Or...
Will those concerns all of us should have for humanity,
Come as priorities to address in someone's head.
Mother Nature knows where everything of 'hers' should fit!
Which of her inhabitants are of intelligence...
And those who are clearly exposed as misfits!
No suit or tie or ballroom gown can disguise this.
And incompetence that rises to the top...
Will begin to show its destructive power.
As observed and watched!
'Isn't that the same thing?
To observe is to watch.
Isn't it? '
~Welllllll...yeeeeeaaassss,
And no!
The act of observing,
Does not necessarily imply a process of examination...
Goes on.
And...
Done it is conducted,
With less discrimination to obstruct.
However,
When one is into the 'art' of watching...
One takes a comprehension stance.
One may adopt this as a project.
To confirm beliefs!
There is something that will be learned from it!
Something that will be digested.
To sink into the mind...
Eventually.
NOW...
As to who's expense the watching done,
Will benefit?
That depends on who believes deceit pays dividends!
AND...
From the watcher's findings,
These dividends do not have long range satisfactions.
No!
In fact...
Many are left to suffer the consequences of their ways!
Crime does not pay.
It just delays the heat turned up on a burning butt.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
If The Surface For Them Did Not Exist
If the surface didn't exist,
Many wouldn't have a thought to cling to.
Many wouldn't know,
Which gossip heard was true.
If the surface for them did not exist.
If the surface didn't exist,
The many dependent on having lives not their own...
Would be lost without being told what to do.
Many absolutely would not have a clue...
How to find their way around,
Without following in someone's footsteps.
If the surface they sniffed did not exist.
And if the surface for them did not exist...
They would not be able to sit alone,
Doing something completely on their own...
And appreciating life,
With the minding of their own business.
If...
The surface for many did not exist,
It would be taumatic for them to seek a thought process.
Many would not know where or how to begin.
So many are accustomed to living lives that are shallow.
With an ability only to identify with that...
Which is supplied and arrives to them surfacely.
Even a dog sniffing tries to find a place to bury a bone.
And doing that alone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You've Enjoyed
I thought you would stay as dumb as possible?
Where has this test failed?
There is no one else left,
To depict low life and ignorance AND incompetence,
Except...?
Well...
I thought you would stay as dumb as possible?
There is no where else to turn.
To seek a replacement.
Except...?
I thought you would stay as dumb as possible?
Everything to keep your intelligence unnoticed,
We thought had been done.
Tell me...
I mean 'us',
Tell us more embarrassing things about yourself.
Something tells me...
You have not been embarrassed at all.
Your eyes begin to 'twinkle'...
Each time you are sought to reveal some 'dirt'.
Have you done this on purpose?
Believing we would think you to be embarrassed?
In fact...
You've enjoyed every moment of being depicted like that!
Haven't you?
You have...
Haven't you?
Knowing we would find,
That the being embarrassed...
Does nothing to your cost of expense.
Does it?
Why don't you answer me?
'Oh!
So NOW you want to know what my thoughts are?
And who pays me for this admission?
You?
Or 'we'? ...or both? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Habits that Become Addicting
The only mystique there is to consume,
And believe...
Is that which has a more concentrated,
Feasibility to release from periods of testing.
Keeping a feeding of this process is needed.
And if leaks of deceit should begin to be 'peeped'...
More opportunities are created,
To tease with more advantageous temptations.
And habits that become addicting like a good wage,
Are encouraged to nourish satisfactions.
Until the expense of those habits,
Begin to diminish the cost of protecting delusions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Digressive Detectors
I've been told on a few occasions,
That I don't spend time fine tuning my poems...
To enhance any 'suspected' relevant,
Thought process.
Digressive detectors,
Are all over the place these days.
And I share with those critics...
They have no idea of the amount of time I spend,
Seeking new avenues to avoid making sense at all.
Or ease into a way to expose my humility.
Please!
I have achievements to accomplish!
To add additional clarity...
For those probing.
I look at it this way...
Anything anyone should find of mine,
To critique with criticisms?
Keep this in mind...
That which you claim to find that is mine,
You have made an illegitimate claim!
Nothing of mine is yours to find,
Had I not put it there.
Hoping you'd be with a microscope.
So...
Probe on!
And if you find anything about me...
Or what I've written,
You might believe I am not aware...
Please,
Make that known.
But not to me.
I may be too busy...
Plotting to divulge actual evidence to prove,
I know exactly what I'm doing.
And...
I want to ensure,
You reveal your findings...
And make my mistakes public!
I am in waiting for another fool,
To believe I am one as well.
They've got to make up what they say,
Although it is dumb!
Digressive detectors.
Probing on the run.
They've got to make up what they say,
Although it is dumb!
Digressive detectors.
Probing on the run.
I may be too busy...
Plotting to divulge actual evidence to prove,
I know exactly what I'm doing.
So...
Probe on!
And if you find anything about me...
Or what I've written,
You might believe I am not aware...
Please,
Make that known.
But not to me.
I am not impressed,
With your digressions.
They've got to make up what they say,
Although it is dumb!
Digressive detectors.
Probing on the run.
They've got to make up what they say,
Although it is dumb!
Digressive detectors.
Probing on the run.
They've got to make up what they say,
Although it is dumb!
Digressive detectors.
Probing on the run.
Digressive detectors.
Probing on the run!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Intended for One who Dares to Be Independent...
then you tried to stand
on your own feet
we observe you as you begin
to lift your body
your hands pushing this whole weight
upwards
(looking for the miracles that the
skies could possibly give?
ah, there is none
not even a streak of light
to give you energy
the moon is not there yet
and the sun just sink to the
dark horizon)
you failed again
your feet as fragile as your mind
are short of strength
in the same manner that your
brain failed to process
the logical consequences of
a premature
independence
you are crying
tears as big as corn grits
fall to the mocking earth
we are watching you closely
we pity you
yet we must be strong to let you
know that pain and survival
are twins
we evaded that final scene
when you lay prostrate to
the ground
as you begin to curse
the earth
that now and forever
never really minds
as to who dies
who lives
who conquers
who perishes to the
layers of
this universe
you see, this is an indifferent world
who tells you
man you are free
and now you are on your own
like an eggshell
from its yolk
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Who Would I Convince?
What are you doing?
'I've awakened this morning,
Deciding I would get serious.'
Serious?
Serious about what?
'My creative abilities.
And expand upon my capabilities.'
I thought you were applying that?
Haven't you been serious?
'Naw,
I was just testing a few ideas.
A few concepts.
Now...
I am ready to begin to unleash my talents.'
So what is that you are doing?
'I've begun to scratch the surface!
How else should I start.
How else should I begin?
I am removing the dust from it now.'
What about the people?
'What people?
What about them?
The people who believe,
They've 'already' been exposed to your 'gifts'...
Those...
Talents?
Or whatever they are called.
'My gifts?
Exposed?
I haven't unwrapped them yet!
Who has been spreading these rumors?
Folks aint got nothing else to do but lie?
OH?
Oh...
They believe my rehearsals,
Have been the real deal!
Hopefully I will be forgiven,
When I reveal the actual product!
And I've got several to launch.
I forgot!
People will accept 'anything' remotely expressing 'talent',
As the real deal.
Wow.
I have to remind myself about that.
Don't you say a word to anyone about this.
You hear me? '
Even if I did...
Who would I convince?
There are some people who actually believe,
They've been exposed to your greatest work.
'LOL...
Ssshhh,
I know.
LOL...
I know!
Stop it,
My stomach hurts.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Viable Process
The only thing that being deemed intelligent,
And smart does...
For those into labels and the giving of titles,
Is to say their abilities to access a brain...
With a capability to connect and retrieve a thought,
Has of yet for them been adopted as a viable process!
And one taking the time to do it...
Becomes considered a genius,
For putting two sentences together!
In the most 'boring' of ways.
'I was totally captivated.
His entire speech on the mating season,
Of possums...
Kept me on the edge of my seat.
Who knew such brilliance he kept inside his mind?
Look at my hands.
They 'still' tremble.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Quickly Assessed To Suspect
If one's intelligence was a defense used against,
The strangle hold of an increasing ignorance...
And events associated to its prominence.
To end with a smothering of common sense.
Then why has it been an exorbitant expense,
To convince...
That the education one has is a vital benefit.
Especially today when many are offended,
By anyone with a thought process...
Confessing an expertise easily to connect dots.
Confusing many to address without that ability.
And once this is admitted with a proof that is served,
That person becomes quickly assessed to suspect...
As a threatening nonconformist to be watched and observed.
'Do you mind passing me more BS, please?
The taste of it is so fresh.
Is it 'never' out of season?
Or does that depend on its presentation...
And the supply and demand for its need? '
I have not a clue.
But it is delicious, isn't it?
'Yes.
Is there more? '
As much of it as you would like.
Light, mild or spicy!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It's life that matters, nothing but life — the process of discovering, the everlasting and perpetual process, not the discovery itself, at all. But what's the use of talking! I suspect that all I'm saying now is so like the usual commonplaces that I shall certainly be taken for a lower-form schoolboy sending in his essay on "sunrise", or they'll say perhaps that I had something to say, but that I did not know how to "explain" it. But I'll add, that there is something at the bottom of every new human thought, every thought of genius, or even every earnest thought that springs up in any brain, which can never be communicated to others, even if one were to write volumes about it and were explaining one's idea for thirty-five years; there's something left which cannot be induced to emerge from your brain, and remains with you forever; and with it you will die, without communicating to anyone perhaps the most important of your ideas.
quote by Dostoyevsky
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Taking Backward Moves To Make Excuses
There is no hidden desire I have,
To know what it is you think.
Or had thought!
Or the process used by you,
To generate comprehension.
I am not in doubt nor do I have questions.
However,
I will mention this for updating purposes...
Your beliefs,
Are clearly observed.
With your thoughts about yourself,
And environment not kept secret.
They surround you exposed like a bad habit.
And I know the difficulty of confronting issues,
After years of dealing with denial and addictions.
And being baited to debate the obvious,
With you or anyone else...
Would not do justice,
To a consciousness I've earned while yearning.
I've already learned the expense of my own ignorance.
Why should I reminisce in a wallowing away in visit with you?
To who's benefit would that foolishness prove?
And...
That is not a request for a response from you.
I think you perceive me as vulnerable!
I have chosen to move forward.
Taking backward moves to make excuses,
Are not, is not and will not be...
On my agenda!
To prove I can make mistakes...?
I've done!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lightning Creation Flash
traditional painting
new layers applied
to various segments
interactive portions
across most
of surface canvas
after air long
dormant delays
allowing
previous
layer to
completely
dry
drying
process
could
delay vary
several days
to several weeks
canvas talent
stasis dormant
depending
on previous
applied
thickness
layer
a process
not conducive
to rapid
genius mind
strokes
bushing
thought
sight felt
touched
in framed
contrast
unleashed
lightning creation flash
poem by Terence George Craddock
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When It Is Advantageous
There comes a time for one and for all,
When an honesty felt that has been taught...
Is adopted as a natural process.
To be digested.
With a comprehension that connects...
In one's mind that becomes understood.
But there are still many of us...
Still confused as to its use.
There are some who choose to manipulate it.
And when it is advantageous,
To benefit our wants.
And not necessarily to increase the feeding of our needs.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Process Isn't As Simple
I find it pointless,
To discuss how a process is done...
And takes place,
To anyone who has not expressed...
Just more of an interest.
If anyone has never been on stage to act.
Or has picked up a pen or a pencil,
To write...
Generating that kind of motivation in one's head...
Is to me like asking,
What does it take to lay an egg?
There is 'nothing' here to work with.
Neither is the person asking this queston a hen...
WITH a pencil OR a pen.
Nor has any attempts been made...
To lay that egg!
I am one of those people,
Who has to see some effort being achieved!
Especially if my assistance is requested.
The process isn't as simple,
As that hen may make it look!
'How is the rooster involved in all of this? '
Trust me.
Once you 'really' get a bonafide interest...?
You will begin the process of research,
On your own.
That 'desire' will be there.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Process
This process.
As difficult as it is,
Gives an ease that seems to flow.
There is a representation that creates an image.
And that picture painted,
Allows what is in one mind to another show.
This process can also deliver emotions as well.
And the skill of it,
Can bring hardened eyes to soften with tears.
This process can even produce a fear.
With a rushing done by someone stunned,
To run from room to room...
With the turning on of every light,
With something firmly tight held near.
This process can invite those feelings of love.
And melt a cold shoulder.
Or...
Even heat a flame under burning sheets.
This process can also get extremely tired.
With a nodding of a process,
That introduces...
Sleep!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Clearer To See Through
With the windows of the world...
And the people living within it,
Becoming clearer to see through.
Although some will still choose to believe...
They hide behind masks and disguises,
As if they can stop and block out one's vision!
No one graduates through life,
Without learning something...
About the process.
It's like the watching,
Of elementary school children...
Absorbing 'elementary' skills.
Once those skills are learned,
The mind begins to connect...
To an openness with a wish to progress.
Those things seen today,
Were not as obvious yesterday.
And when new lessons are learned...
The old ones just don't fade away.
They stay with a probing done!
And no one living under the Sun,
When light begins to shine on everyone...
Can keep what they believe is kept discreet.
Although they may perceive themselves,
As hiding secrets.
Or that truth,
Is a matter of one's interpretation of it.
And anyone who has ever been exposed to truth,
Knows there is only one...
Truth,
That becomes revealed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Poor Villagers
Though god has given many good things
but deprived from most civic facilities.
Can't have good school and hospital
to get employment least opportunity.
No access to technological development
roads and transport quality very poor.
Half of government budget for projects
simply becomes corruption's devour.
Natural resources are captured by rich
social resources by bureau- political people.
Legal system is petite before politicians
system is succumbed before influential.
In under developed countries, the villager's
meagre earning and poor living condition
looks they're waiting in halfway houses
yet to begin process of social integration.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Dictation Done
If there is anything experience teaches,
To those who have gone through that process...
With a final acceptance of lessons taught,
Is this...
No matter where one goes with an experienced life,
Achieved through the benefit of failure...
Sometimes repeated.
And lessons learned that have been taught.
Those who seek comprehension,
Will never find time to be bored.
And will one day discover their observations,
Are the ones that are eagerly sought!
Since so many others seem to be awaiting...
A school bell to ring and an announcement made,
That a thought one initiates should soon begin!
With a dictation done that has nothing to do,
To provide one with the tools to use common sense!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Is Best to Be Cautious
Some folks believe they benefit,
By protecting their insecurities.
As if they are hidden.
And others can not see.
Or know those insecurities,
Have a life of their own.
And have been given the 'authority'
To express themselves!
And publicly breathe.
But when those insecurities,
Begin to plop on another's integrity...
There is no sense to defend them.
Feelings once spared,
Are no longer given a chance.
And egos become wounded.
And those romanced exaggerations,
About life...
Become stung,
By someone who intends to deliver...
A bitter nasty tongue done.
And there is no regret.
It is best to be cautious,
In these situations.
Especially when accusations,
Begin to sprout wings and fly!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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They Are Not Aware Of That Yet
Respect received,
From a people bleeding...
Of self worth and identity.
Has never been a consideration,
For those who do to get done.
Especially in an atmosphere,
Where those accustomed...
To shun their own integrities,
Have been fed to erase.
Like a thought process expected...
But will never surface to take place.
It is not on their fast food,
Addicted to self abusing menus.
But accusations,
Absent of self examination?
Is not to be questioned to ponder!
Folks like these lack that depth.
And a patience for them to awaken,
Has gone!
But they are not aware of that yet.
Garbage in.
Garbage out.
Until all lights are turned out.
And that is what their lives have been about!
A fear to connected to their own greatness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Poor villager
Though god has given some good things
but deprived from most civic facilities.
Can't have good school and hospital
to get employment least opportunity.
No access to technological development
roads and transport quality very poor.
Half of government budget for projects
simply becomes corruption's devour.
Natural resources are captured by rich
social resources by bureau- political people.
Legal system is petite before politicians
system is succumbed before influential.
In under developed countries, the villager's
meagre earning and poor living condition
looks they're waiting in halfway houses
yet to begin process of social integration.
(C) S. D. Tiwari
poem by S.D. Tiwari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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