One Who Fishes For Nonsense to Dish
They've been taught to cast blame,
Responsibility and the game of placing shame...
Upon the shoulders of someone else.
To free themselves of guilt and its association.
And these teachings have come spouting out,
Directly from the dictates of the horse's mouth.
But...
The horse is accustomed to delusion and denial.
And makes attempts to set its own trial...
With a handpicked jury,
And a judge known to have selective memory.
And anyone looking in,
When these lessons began to be taught without end.
Have also been unknown willing victims...
Of this very same process,
That keeps them entertained.
Taught to cast blame,
By one who fishes for nonsense to dish...
Upon fresh and innocent subjects to train.
With a purpose to have glorified,
One's own name and fame to claim.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
New Biography
See youve got the new biography
Where did they get the info from
Same as before some, so called friends
Who claim to have, known me then
How come theyve got such good memories
And I cant even remember last week
Got to queston where theyre coming from
What knowledge of me is it that they speak
So far away, way back when
The people that claim, to have known me then
Not on my wavelength and its such a shame
That they have to play the name game
The fame game, oh the name game,
Lord its a cryin shame
Lord tell me whats to blame
Reinvented all the stories they know
Give them all a different slant
What is it that theyre really looking for
Just a hobby on the internet
So far away, way back when
The people that claim, to have known me then
Not on my wavelength and its such a shame
That they have to play the name game
The fame game, the name game,
Oh its such a cryin shame, tell me whos to blame
If they didnt really know me way back
How can they know me now, in any respect
Its a pity they dont feel the pain
That they should pay the price to play, to play
The fame game, the name game
Its such a cryin shame, please tell me whos to blame
Not on my wavelength and its such a shame
That they have to play, have to play the fame game
Oh the name game, its a cryin shame
Please tell me whos to blame
They keep on playin
The fame game, oh the name game
Its such a cryin shame, please tell me whos to blame
Keep on playin the fame game
Lord, the name game, its such a cryin shame
Please tell me whos to blame
They just keep on playin the fame game
Oh the name game, its such a cryin shame
Please tell me whos to blame
Keep on, keep on playin..
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seldom Asked
A horse familiar with pulling a cart,
Doesn't have to be taught...
What that experience is like.
Or is in need to have details of scenes,
Described by those riding in the cart...
As the horse pulls.
A horse familiar with pulling a cart,
Doesn't have to be taught...
What that experience is like.
A horse familiar with pulling a cart...
Is seldom asked,
About anything the horse knows and has seen...
On a path that is daily traveled.
Those in the cart,
Seldom repeat the ride.
And few, if any...
Know what it is like to pull their own weight,
And others.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Escape Goats To Use To Confuse The Issues
It will be great one day,
To awaken to hear.
Voices acknowledging their faults.
With an admitting of them,
That eliminates finger pointing.
To end placing blame on others,
For our own actions a suffering to ourselves.
Mistakes and decisions,
WE cause and brought.
There has to be an accountability,
That initiates what happens.
Escape goats to use to confuse the issues,
Never succeeds with lessons taught.
And excuses quickly used to refuse those things we do,
Has to stop looking for someone's back.
To attack,
As we keep packing upon their shoulders.
Our weight to carry as if they are suppose to do that.
Then verbally express our lack of appreciation.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Faith the Facts
Search out all things of good report.
Consider each one carefully,
things are not always as you thought.
As you will find most probably.
What you were taught to be the truth
is very often far from true.
Lessons taught you in your youth
by those you thought knew more than you.
As you mature you learn to see.
They taught you their own biased view
Which you examine critically
And then discard most as untrue.
Your old beliefs grow obsolete.
Examine all the evidence
New facts emerge though incomplete,
you then accept what makes most sense.
What you were taught no longer true.
You can’t rely on faith alone.
Although the clergy urge you to
Because too much remains unknown
Wednesday,25 November 2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Incarceration Cause And Effect
bad choices usually
have bad outcomes
cause and event
crime and time
everyone is innocent in prison
is the perpetual not guilty plea
blame it on de man who taught
blame it on de man who fought
blame it on de fool who wanted to be cool
blame it on de location of a bar room stole
blame it on de hard drug pushed or alcohol
blame it on de police sting or sell out mole
prison incarceration in punitive prison
result of poor self choice made decision
locked inside can result in fatal incision
from this education few great have arisen
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Sonnet: Why Blame?
Why blame the eagle for its swoop on mice?
Why blame the tiger for hunting its prey?
Why blame the drug-peddler for playing dice?
Why blame the donkey when it can but bray?
Why blame the wind that makes the branches sway?
Why blame the snake for its poison-fangs?
Why blame the sun for a hot summer’s day?
Why blame the police for the thieving gangs?
Why blame the night for being dark and cold?
Why blame the devils when they will tempt man?
Why blame our fate when we are getting old?
Why blame the Maker for how Man began?
Why blame the circumstances for our sins?
Why blame the tongue, whenever our words mince?
7-30-2002
poem by John Celes
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Gunface
Gonna go downtown
Gonna get my gun
Gonna dress real sharp
Gonna beat my drum
I ain't gonna lie
Gonna walk so slow
Gonna talk just right
And my diamond ring
Gonna shine so bright
I ain't gonna lie
I've got a debt to repay
I ain't gonna cry
I put a gun in your face
You'll pay with your life
And I got my ears
And I got my eyes
And I got my narks
And my alibis
I won't waste your time
You made one false move
You made one mistake
When the juice is squeezed
That's the way it breaks
You'll pay for your crime
Your tongue lickin' way out of place
I'll rip it out
I'll stick a gun in your face
You'll pay with your life
I taught her everything I taught her how to dream
I taught her everything
I'm gonna teach her how to scream
I taught her all she knows
I taught her how to lie
I taught her everything
I'm gonna teach her how to cry
And you cause me hurt
And you cause me pain
And you turned the tap
On my burning rage
And I can't put it out
Gonna leave no sign
Gonna leave no trace
Gonna leave this town
In a state of grace
Give me the power
I got a debt to repay
I ain't gonna lie
I put a gun in your face
You'll pay for the crime
I taught her everything
I taught her how to speak
I taught her all she knows
I taught her how to eat
I half invented her
And now she acts so chic
I taught her everything
But now she's obselete
I taught her everything
How to read and write
I taught her all she knows
She was a neophyte
I taught her everything
I loved to watch her grow
I taught her everything
And now I want to see her go
I taught her everything
I got a debt to repay
I ain't gonna cry
I'll put a gun in your face
You're playing with your life
I taught her everything
I taught her how to cheat
I taught her all she knows
She was so indiscreet
I taught her everything
I taught her how to lie
I taught her everything
I'm gonna teach her how to cry
song performed by by Rolling Stones from Bridges To Babylon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Taught To Fear And Suffer
Taught not born,
To hate.
Taught not born,
To fear.
Taught not born,
To discriminate.
And taught not born,
To jeer.
Taught not born,
To give.
Taught not born,
To take.
Taught not born to be of benefit to others.
But many bigots interfere...
With an infliction of their insecurities,
That smother one another.
Some are taught they are better than most human beings.
With a stunting of their own growth,
In isolated dreams.
And then their are those who confront others,
With obvious legitimate needs.
Ultimately to suffer from these misdeeds.
Taught not born,
To hate.
Taught not born,
To fear.
Taught not born,
To discriminate.
And taught not born,
To jeer.
Taught to greed selfishly!
Taught to deceive and steal like thieves!
And taught to cheat to succeed...
No matter who does the suffering and bleeds.
Taught to fear and suffer.
As a right,
To incite and ignite...
Fear.
As a right,
To incite and ignite...
Suffering,
Inflicted.
As a right to incite and ignite,
Fear!
Taught to fear and suffer.
As a right,
To incite and ignite...
Fear.
As a right,
To incite and ignite...
Suffering,
Inflicted.
As a right to incite and ignite,
Fear!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Purposeful Lesson, From A Painful Past
I lament the fact that I do not miss my dearly-departed Dad,
Nor may I see as real, the relationship that we once had:
My Father was not the man he purported to be;
It is only now, long after his demise, that I am able to see
The man I thought I knew, for who he truly was.
What is past is prologue, yet not for me, because
Though many years have past, I still wonder what was real.
My heart aches for what this association was allowed to steal,
Both from me and those I hold in the highest esteem.
Oh, how I wish that it were only a bad dream,
But I am not so fortuitous as to see its end-
My present is not one my past could portend.
I am not my Father's keeper, nor am I to blame
For anything that he once did-so, why then the shame! ?
He was but a fiend with which I share a last name,
Yet, it is not my purpose, nor surely my aim,
To cast aspersions at the man from whence I came,
Merely to markedly point out that we are not one and the same.
I can no more help my connection to him as I can my logical mind,
Yet this diaspora spreads and I may never leave it behind!
I have ardently prayed for refuge from this horrible curse,
Yet my prayers have gone unanswered, and the guilt, gotten worse!
I only wish to awaken to a world where ignorance is no longer-
A world where time heals all, and I am allowed to become stronger
For all that I have had to endure, for all I have overcome,
Yet my mind will not allow riddance to be paid to these cumbersome
Burdens I feel deep in my soul because of who my Father was.
I should not be made to suffer for what my Father does,
Just as no man should be held to account for acts of another,
I should not be made to recompense for those of a Father
I never really knew-whose shameful ruse was hidden from me.
This exorcision is needed, to ensure this curse is ridden, from me
And all those that I hold dear, for they have suffered too!
The world must see not only what I have suffered through,
But that my suffering was not in vain-it was surely not His intention
To inflict such pain without purpose; His Intervention
Is rife with lessons for all the world to see.
Lessons in the way He intends for the world to be:
Where His children demonstrate love, understanding, and compassion
For each other-without bias and prejudice-and without ration!
This must be the lesson that He wished to be taught to me
And the way He believes the world ought to be-
Otherwise my penance was all in vain,
And the world truly is insane!
-Maurice Harris,19 June 2012
poem by Maurice Harris
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Only A Pawn In Their Game
A bullet from the back of a bush took medgar evers blood.
A finger fired the trigger to his name.
A handle hid out in the dark
A hand set the spark
Two eyes took the aim
Behind a mans brain
But he cant be blamed
Hes only a pawn in their game.
A south politician preaches to the poor white man,
You got more than the blacks, dont complain.
Youre better than them, you been born with white skin, they explain.
And the negros name
Is used it is plain
For the politicians gain
As he rises to fame
And the poor white remains
On the caboose of the train
But it aint him to blame
Hes only a pawn in their game.
The deputy sheriffs, the soldiers, the governors get paid,
And the marshals and cops get the same,
But the poor white mans used in the hands of them all like a tool.
Hes taught in his school
From the start by the rule
That the laws are with him
To protect his white skin
To keep up his hate
So he never thinks straight
bout the shape that hes in
But it aint him to blame
Hes only a pawn in their game.
From the poverty shacks, he looks from the cracks to the tracks,
And the hoof beats pound in his brain.
And hes taught how to walk in a pack
Shoot in the back
With his fist in a clinch
To hang and to lynch
To hide neath the hood
To kill with no pain
Like a dog on a chain
He aint got no name
But it aint him to blame
Hes only a pawn in their game.
Today, medgar evers was buried from the bullet he caught.
They lowered him down as a king.
But when the shadowy sun sets on the one
That fired the gun
Hell see by his grave
On the stone that remains
Carved next to his name
His epitaph plain:
Only a pawn in their game.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lessons Taught to Learn
What is taught,
Is believed.
From birth
When received.
And when convinced,
With an affliction
That limits and restricts,
Of course
What is taught,
Will be perceived
As the existence.
To defend without question.
And not resist.
Many lessons taught to learn,
And meant to stay and stick.
To be remembered.
Never to forget.
Like adding to substract,
Our likes from dislikes to divide.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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
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Instincts lead me
Winds sing; who taught them?
Rivers make paths; who taught them?
Infants cry; who taught them?
I learn other than what are taught.
What I learn other than what I was taught
Has led me to live where I live.
10.01.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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On Their Knees
Theft and deception,
Have been their worst enemies.
And the power of truth,
Reduces them to miseries.
An escape hatch is sought,
As the plunge from their throne is felt!
The misuse of their own citizens,
Inflames them from within.
They can not blame anyone else!
Their struggle to maintain integrity has gone!
Not one of them fed on greed,
Has an identity that is strong.
Listening with patience and correcting their faults...
Had not been a priority.
So on their knees,
Lessons not learned...
To them are brought!
Too late.
To heal from self hatred taught!
So on their knees,
Lessons not learned...
To them are brought!
Too late.
To heal from self hatred taught!
Theft and deception,
Have been their worst enemies.
And the power of truth,
Reduces them to miseries.
So on their knees,
Lessons not learned...
To them are brought!
Too late.
To heal from self hatred taught!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Slipping of Meet Notes
Accustomed to lies.
What does the truth really mean?
Accustomed to lies laying low on the scene!
Accustomed to tell them...
And protect when told.
Accustomed to lies,
Whether fresh released or old held on hold!
Accustomed to lies...
Without a bat of an eyelash moving!
Accustomed to lies.
Dishonesty is accepted and shown.
At the work place
Where the slipping of meet notes,
Does not provoke disdain.
Accustomed to lies...
And that's how our lives remain!
In heated sex away from home!
Regardless of who spies on another,
Both buffer their suffering by what's condoned.
Accustomed to lies...
And what is taught is always known!
Accustomed to lies.
Accustomed to holding on to them,
Until time flys!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Boss
(nickolas ashford/valerie simpson)
Fancy me
Thought I had my degree
In life and how love
Ought to be a run
I had a one step plan to prove it
Guide in my pocket for fools
Folly and fun
Love had to show me one thing
I was so right
So right
Thought I could turn emotion
On and off
I was so sure
So sure (I was so sure)
But love taught me
Who was who was who was the boss
(taught me who was who was the boss)
Id defy
Anyone who claimed that i
Didnt control whatever moved in my soul
I could tempt
Touch delight
Just because you fell for me
Why should I feel uptight
Love had to show me one thing:
I was so right
So right
Thought I could turn emotion
On and off
I was so sure
So sure (I was so sure)
But love taught me
Who was who was who was the boss
(taught me who was who was the boss)
Love taught me
Taught me
Taught me
Taught me
I was so right
So right
Thought I could turn emotion
On and off
I was so sure
So sure (I was so sure)
But love taught me
Who was who was who was the boss
(taught me who was who was the boss)
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boss
(Nickolas Ashford/Valerie Simpson)
Fancy me
Thought I had my degree
In life and how love
Ought to be a run
I had a one step plan to prove it
Guide in my pocket for fools
Folly and fun
Love had to show me one thing
I was so right
So right
Thought I could turn emotion
On and off
I was so sure
So sure (I was so sure)
But love taught me
Who was who was who was the boss
(Taught me who was who was the boss)
I'd defy
Anyone who claimed that I
Didn't control whatever moved in my soul
I could tempt
Touch delight
Just because you fell for me
Why should I feel uptight
Love had to show me one thing:
I was so right
So right
Thought I could turn emotion
On and off
I was so sure
So sure (I was so sure)
But love taught me
Who was who was who was the boss
(Taught me who was who was the boss)
Love taught me
Taught me
Taught me
Taught me
I was so right
So right
Thought I could turn emotion
On and off
I was so sure
So sure (I was so sure)
But love taught me
Who was who was who was the boss
(Taught me who was who was the boss)
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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WHO And WHAT Implemented This
How can anyone think or believe,
They could distance themselves...
From actions their own children take,
That provokes others with disrespect...
To then proclaim they are not responsible,
For those actions their children have learned...
From behind walls where they were first taught.
To then take those lessons beyond their own backyards?
With a doing done to create for others havoc!
Is the First Amendment that diverse?
WHO and WHAT,
Inspired with encouragement their transgressions?
With beliefs to violate others is okay?
And with rights that entitles them to do it their way.
From WHERE was this thoughtlessness generated?
WHO and WHAT implemented this in their minds,
To have those who should be accountable...
Find someone else to blame!
And with accusations that dismisses their teachings.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Get Use To Being Tested
If one is not specific and precise.
Or makes attempts to be responsible,
With an accountability for their actions.
What influence do they expect to have,
On someone else...
Who has been taught to be 'upfront',
From birth?
Even a displaying of pretentions does not work,
When one is made to feel 'humbled'...
In these situations.
'Ma?
My teacher says I think I know so much.'
~Don't blame your teacher.
I had nothing to do with raising her.~
'He's a 'man'.'
~Well...
Get use to being tested.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whipping
Race is the name of the game
Along with my horse I enlisted my name
I whipped my horse giving him pain
I had a plan for both of us to win.
He did not know
So fast why he had to go!
Race is the name of the game
My Master enlisted my name
He whips me giving me pain
As if He has a plan to make me win.
What's if somebody gives another name of the game?
It will not change; the game will be the same
We are all the players of the game
What, when, how and why if they claim
If even one starts giving me and my Master a blame
Still we have to suffer and intake the pain
My Master knows better what game we have to win!
poem by Abdul Wahab
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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