On the Lower Level
On the lower level,
Squinting eyes sour...
Behind disguising masks.
Worn by those refusing to remove them.
A task they have not mastered.
Even though the light dims!
Any that was kept once,
And stored within.
On the lower level,
A feeding of darkness
Continues to flourish.
A nourishment encouraged fails,
To purge them.
Weaknesses begun...
Left many to seige a seething,
As natural as the breathing process is done.
They pray to be released,
But cease to eliminate the increasing anger.
They creep upon themselves like beasts.
Leaving hearts mangled to dangle like bait...
For awaiting vultures.
Enslaved by their own rusting culture.
Distributed like mulch,
To advance the growth of weeds!
Estranged from the guidance of angels and 'spirits'.
A depth is reflected but no one goes near it.
A fear is suspected and it's rejected quick.
The fumes of addiction has settled in too thick!
They are sick...
And many seem to enjoy dwelling upon this,
As it sits.
No one wants it to leave...
They are pleased with it!
If it hinted to go and quit...
Their own throats they would split!
Enlightenment is attacked.
Strapped to lies and innuendo!
And closing the window to a truth held back,
Ready to be exposed!
But it has been frozen and concealed in traps.
Bolted unconsciously to pain and sorrow.
Whatever light is left...
Suddenly fades and goes out!
Screams and shouts are heard.
And those who grew patient to listen,
Were not deterred by the disturbance...
Blurted to blur!
They knew from 'within'...
'Something' came to awaken them,
From the shallowness of ignorance,
They could not let begin!
As they were lifted from the lower level...
Deciding to shovel their way,
Into a light that did not betray them!
Finding in time...
Those of like minds,
Welcoming to share light!
In abundance that excited.
A brightness not expressed...
And much supressed,
On the lower level!
Where temptations and distress,
Are mixed by those who pass their blessings!
Confined to concrete limitations expressed.
In the hopes to deliver themselves from bleeding!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
I wasn't able to lower my cholesterol so they put me on a statin drug. It is called lipitor. I was able to lower my level in about 30 days from above 300 to below 200.
quote by Mark Spitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our problem, from the point of view of psychology and from the point of view of genetic epistemology, is to explain how the transition is made from a lower level of knowledge to a level that is judged to be higher.
quote by Jean Piaget
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Over The Hills And Far Away
A LITTLE bird flew my window by,
'Twixt the level street and the level sky,
The level rows of houses tall,
The long low sun on the level wall;
And all that the little bird did say
Was, 'Over the hills and far away.'
A little bird sang behind my chair,
From the level line of corn-fields fair,
The smooth green hedgerow's level bound
Not a furlong off--the horizon's bound,
And the level lawn where the sun all day
Burns:--'Over the hills and far away.'
A little bird sings above my bed,
And I know if I could but lift my head
I would see the sun set, round and grand,
Upon level sea and level sand,
While beyond the misty distance gray
Is 'Over the hills and far away.'
I think that a little bird will sing
Over a grassy mound, next spring,
Where something that once was me, ye'll leave
In the level sunshine, morn and eve:
But I shall be gone, past night, past day,
Over the hills and far away.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Darkness Hopes
In each of us lives darkness
black as coal and full of desire,
that lies dormant in the midnight
though it longs to feel a fire.
The fire brings great brightness
to the heart of the darkest dark;
as it dances with abandon
flirting madly as it sparks.
When the sparks flash in the darkness
the blackness feels the heat,
that's created by a passion
when light and darkness meet.
Once the darkness is ignited
white light burns deep inside,
emboldened by combustion
once begun, won't subside.
Though as the fire burns lower
and the light begins to dim,
embers glow with excitement
for what will come again.
The darkness is quite patient
as it quietly sits and waits,
for the fire to build inside again
and reconnect the fates.
You see, the darkness holds out the hope
for the passion of the light,
to dance again with abandon
to bring a fire, burning bright.
(September 10,2010)
poem by David L. Harkins
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The Elevator
I was on the ground floor
and I wanted level five.
I pressed the call button
and waited for it to arrive.
It arrived with no one in it,
so I entered and closed the door.
It took its time to get going,
then slowed for the next floor.
The doors hesitated then opened,
but no one was there,
but I definitely felt a presence
and a disturbance in the air.
I was standing still and anxious
when the lift shook from side to side.
The doors closed and up it went to three
where the doors opened wide.
Again no one was there waiting,
but I felt someone get in.
Movement in the air and floor
was most unsettling.
I was overwhelmed and nervous
as it approached level four.
It stopped, but no one was waiting,
just like the stops before.
The elevator paused for a second
and I swear someone got in.
I was certain that I heard whispering
as the elevator set off again.
The space felt uncomfortably eerie
cold, but very much alive.
The rotten egg smell made me sickly,
as we went passed level five.
The light suddenly turned to darkness,
and I could see forms and shapes.
They were pushing each other violently,
as we approached level eight.
I pressed the emergency button,
but we still passed eight, nine, and ten.
At level eleven the elevator stopped…
then began to go down again.
At eight the elevator came to a halt
and everyone but me got out.
The darkness became light again,
so relieved, I gave out a shout.
The elevator continued downwards
and stopped at the ground floor.
An old lady and her dog waiting to enter,
but I couldn’t exit the elevator door.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Vindictivity-Revisited
Vindictivity as it is expressed,
May be chewed by some...
To swallow and digest.
But those who are challenged,
To become their best yet...
Bypass such urges
Leaving other minds regressed,
In the redundancy of regret!
Suddenly released and once victimized,
By those who found it easy
To despise them with lies.
They are now lifted...
And propelled above such pests.
With forgiving hearts they have,
And transcending the past
After mastering such tests!
Vindictivity does not cross their minds.
Actions like these aren't friends for them to find.
Left behind is this 'stylish' resentment...
Dressed with fresh expressions
To escape concealed depressions.
Vindictivity does not cross their minds.
Actions like these aren't friends for them to find.
Left behind is this 'stylish' resentment...
Dressed with fresh expressions
To escape concealed depressions.
Split from and witnessed,
Are rolling eyes casting glares.
As if these postures...
Warrant the welcome of such childish affairs.
Free from dares,
Are those who choose to live...
Beyond such traps,
That feed those breeding negativity that's shared!
Vindictivity as it is expressed,
May be chewed by some...
To swallow and digest.
But those who are challenged,
To become their best yet...
Bypass such urges
Leaving other minds regressed,
In the redundancy of regret!
Vindictivity-revisited in excursions viewed,
Can be seen diseasing as it infests...
So many who choose what they do!
Suddenly released and once victimized,
By those who found it easy
To despise them with lies.
They are now lifted...
And propelled above such pests.
With forgiving hearts they have,
And transcending the past
After mastering such tests!
Vindictivity-revisited...
In repeated excursions viewed,
Can be seen diseasing as it infests...
So many who choose,
Lives lived as they do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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where did I park my car?
1
where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before
had a coffee at the center
caught up with some friends
watched a movie
and bought some stuff for home
and now I can’t find my car
though I’ve searched past 10 minutes
where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before
no, that’s not mine
that’s a Mercedes;
that one’s too shiny;
and maybe it’s this one
- no, mate,
we won’t go any nearer
this car is too clean
mine will look like
it’s not been washed since Noah
where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before
2
well, yes, help me look out...
it’s an old Nissan
blue faded into white;
no, nobody ‘ll steal that
and the only people
who’d give it a second look
will be the traffic police
who’d wave as if to say:
Pull over, Sir;
let’s have a look at
your rego and front tyres
now, where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before
well, damn,
I’m sure it hasn’t moved
it’s not that sort with smart technology
self-park, self-drive or with sensors;
it’s like an old useless dog
completely lost without its master
where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before
now that we’ve looked
about 30 minutes or more
I’m not sure if this is the right level;
Oh, did I stop at Yellow Level
or Blue or Green or Pink?
was it level 1 or 2 or 3 or 9?
it’s completely out of my mind
where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before
ah, there it is
that old boneshaker;
thanks mate, for helping me look
You were saying you want a lift –
yes, come - I'll dropp you…no trouble…
yes, it’s just on the way…
Hey…Where you going?
What? Don’t want a lift?
You’d rather walk home?
Hey, what’s wrong with my car?
OK, suit yourself…
at least I found my faithful car…
where did I park my car?
it was Level 5, Yellow Sector
Lot 125
all the while
and that beauty was here each second
an old helpless dog, waiting for its master
poem by Raj Arumugam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Light Of Darkness
I trained my soul for the lies ahead,
I saved my time for the new dawn.
I tried to decipher life using light,
I tried to purge my soul with light,
But strange as it may sound
The light didn’t heal my soul.
Do I know how to use the light?
If not, how can I reform my ways?
I craved for some knowledge.
Teach me how to use the light, I cried.
All that came was an echo,
None heard my cry.
I wondered why I wasn’t able to use the light,
Everyone knew it, but why can’t I?
My patience drained out of me,
But my will kept me on,
I tried to crawl into the light.
But then I asked myself.
Why the light? Why not darkness?
There, my cry was answered.
I found a new way to use the light,
But strange as it may sound,
The light showed me its true face,
A face that was common for all,
A face of darkness.
I ran into the new face of light,
I ran into the darkness,
And there, my life revealed itself,
I was able to purge my soul with the light of darkness.
poem by Vivek Kartha
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Truth and Lies
Is the truth beyond our lies,
Say what you want,
Watch what you say,
For our hidden lies, we must pay.
In the darkness of the night,
In the brightness of the day,
Truth and lies have gone astray.
Does your truth contain a lie?
Black as coal, the midnight sky.
Truth will shine,
It is the light,
To tell the truth,
With a soul so bright.
Is truth defined just in the mind?
In the Prince of Darkenss lies defined.
Love of the truth will scorn the Devil,
Our truth must stay at our highest level.
Of these shortcomings,
Are we aware?
That we speak of lies so unaware!
Every lie turns the truth aside,
Our secret truths, we sometimes hide.
poem by Philip Lore
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We Owe You Four Weeks of Bliss
Finally,
From where we sit...
Light has begun to filter in,
From once darkened windows.
'It is good to hear such good news!
It is terrific to see the Sun upon the horizon again.
Isn't it? '
You have no idea.
Since we began mailing...
The 'We Owe You Four Weeks of Bliss' announcements,
In dazzling colored brochures.
A few days ago?
Thousands have not bothered to show up,
To block out the natural light at street level.
Allowing us to determine how best to satisfy their needs.
And finding the atmosphere,
A little easier to breathe these days.
Even though the printing of the brochures,
Has not been cost effective.
'It is good to hear such good news!
It is terrific to see the Sun upon the horizon again.
Isn't it? '
Yes.
Since adopting this new sytem,
Everyone seems to be more encouraged.
More stimulated and patient,
To know we are doing the best we can...
To revive their visions of a brighter tomorrow.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It is an accepted commonplace in psychology that the spiritual level of people acting as a crowd is far lower than the mean of each individual's intelligence or morality.
quote by Christian Lous Lange
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spectator
On a Sunday
at nine
he sits by the window
watching
people passing by
bringing their burdens
he is not part
of this
sacrifice
he is the spectator
watching the day pass by
till the next level of
his lazy enlightenment
the sun fades away
and now the moon
he sits by the window
imagining
the night away
it will be the same on
another day of his life
this spectator
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Same
On a Sunday
at nine
he sits by the window
watching
people passing by
bringing their burdens
he is not part
of this
sacrifice
he is the spectator
watching the day pass by
till the next level of
his lazy enlightenment
the sun fades away
and now the moon
he sits by the window
imagining
the night away
it will be the same on
another day of his life
this spectator
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lift Me Up Like You've Plucked a Buttercup
When you come around finding you have found,
You've settled down.
With slowed jets ready to quit your lippin'
And prepared to sit and begin to listen'...
You've done shifted from a drifter position.
And it's there to be gripped!
All that life has blessed you with!
ooo-ooo
Many in fits can't handle what they get.
And they seek partnerships...
That end in arguments,
Gone ballistic.
Left in realistic lethal pieces.
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been sneezing.
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been breathing.
Just leave don't mention...
Any attitude you've got,
That's dropped you mopin'!
Take a little whiff of me I'll free you easy.
I'm that destiny you need.
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been sneezing.
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been breathing.
When you come around finding you have found,
You've settled down.
With slowed jets ready to quit your lippin'
And prepared to sit and begin to listen'...
You've done shifted from a drifter position.
And it's there to be gripped!
All that life has blessed you with!
ooo-ooo
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been sneezing.
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been breathing.
ooo-ooo
Just Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been sneezing.
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been breathing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The level of taxation is driven by spending. Less spending leads to lower taxes.
quote by Gregory D. Hess
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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River
Life
Layers after layers
Sucked up all the elements of light
In the abyss
A crone lies in the dark, pitch
Mystery of all the mysteries
No mind over there ever reached
Mother of all curiosities
Lower of the lowest
Sad of the saddest wave
Brighter than the brightest
No heart over there ever reached
In the zenith
A beautiful fairy resides
Wonder and surprises
Higher than the highest
Joy and delight
I know both of them
Joy and sorrow
I am your life
I go through
Higher than the high and lower than the low.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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You can have relatively high levels of class consciousness with a lower level of class militancy than one would have expected.
quote by Ernest Mandel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is a level of cowardice lower than that of the conformist: the fashionable non-conformist.
042210j It Will Be Solve Sooner
there's monstrous risk in recovery
of natural resources buried beneath
we have a month ago in mountains
now recently at lower level of earth
so many lives were taken untimely
it's our instinctive greed of having
it looks like we are so unsafe & careless
so many incidents the truth we have less
we have well developed media coverage
can't beat that they show live battles in irag
especially gossip hollywood, omg has it
tiger is just so stealthy... not in therapy
poem by Manonton Dalan
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I Will Not Lower Myself
I will not lower my vibration for you
even though you try to control me with your goo.
Your goo of lies that you spurt out
I will not lower my self to you without a doubt.
I will keep shining my light-
no matter if it is day or night.
I will not deter from who I really am-
even though you tell me your liitle scam.
For my revenge would be conscious on my part
your sickness is something you believe in your heart.
In the end I would not evolve
for the lying on your part was not resolved.
Written by Christina Sunrise on June 29,2012
poem by Christina Sunrise
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