Outsourced
Outsourced...
Is the moist I knew.
Outsourced...
Is my once prized tool.
Outsourced...
Is my boo boo lube,
I used.
Outsourced too...
Is my cool and groove.
And I wonder why,
Is Iowa...
Drenched in pouring rain.
Straining the remaining corn and soy!
And why is Ohio...
High and dry!
That can annoy,
Those unemployed!
Outsourced is my drool,
For you too.
La la
La la la
La la
La La
La la la
Lah Lahhhhh.
And I wonder why,
Is Iowa...
Drenched in pouring rain?
Ooo ooo ooo.
I choose to outsource madness...
I do!
Outsourced...
Is the moist I knew.
Outsourced...
Is my once prized tool.
Outsourced...
Is my boo boo lube,
I used.
Outsourced too...
Is my cool and groove.
I choose to outsource,
This madness...
I do!
Who do I outsource,
This blues I'm boo hooing...
To?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Is The Kool-Aid Being Packaged With Crack?
High paying jobs,
Returning back to these shores?
After those same jobs were outsourced,
By greedy business owners...
To increase 'their' bottom line?
And doing it with the cheapest labor force,
They can find?
Is the kool-aid being packaged with crack?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Deflated Commodity
Sharing within a relationship...
Time, devotion, commitment and love
Should not find these values outsourced!
And if that should happen...
Divorce yourself from this!
When you feel your concerns
Are being turned into goods exported,
And taken for granted by anyone.
Consider yourself...
Just another deflated commodity,
Used at the expense of someone's huge return!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Something Finally Believed
Why are those now so concerned,
About a budget?
When then they expressed no limits seen.
While feeding their greed that became obscene?
Why are they concerned,
About jobs they consciously outsourced...
To leave those here incapable of earning.
And they wish to convince,
Everything done they do makes sense?
To who?
Their tailors paid to keep them in expensive suits?
Well...
Maybe if they defined themselves as 'mindless',
It would be something done admitted.
And something finally believed,
Many would agree has validity and substance.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Something To Get Done For Somebody
Many people have done one thing,
Most of their lives.
Get up-go to work-and go home!
Get up-go to work-and go home!
Get up-go to work-and go home!
Until they are awarded a gift...
To show an appreciation,
For their dedicated madness.
Those who make it.
Those who are downsized with jobs outsourced...
Their loyalty gets them a pink slip.
Or a promise to fit them in anywhere.
If there is space left.
And if they don't mind sitting behind a brick wall,
To put in their time for a lower pay.
And to keep in mind...
They still have jobs that accomplishes 'something'.
Something to get done for somebody!
Until the time comes to retire from it.
Or get fired.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What Is Maintained
Doesn't it seem as if those most delusional,
Are those in public protesting their rights.
Shouting their dislike for the 'aliens'...
Crossing their borders,
And diminishing their historic interests!
And not one product has been manufactured,
On their shores since one of the earlier wars.
They import more from foreigners than they export.
Their jobs have been outsourced.
And the land they stand on has been sold.
And few of the buyers have had passports.
However...
What is maintained and they do keep sacred...
Is their archaic racist beliefs!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Without Regret They Would Rather Fret
Even with their BA's, MA's
And Phd's...
They can not return jobs lost,
And outsourced overseas.
Nor can they stall the slide,
Of a nose diving economy.
Yet they are caught up bragging...
About their ivy league affiliations.
With their much sought after,
College degrees.
While the obvious continues to elude them.
A common sense,
Treated...
Like a low class disease.
And without regret they would rather fret,
About exhausting their faltering debt with poor credit...
Living their best,
In the lap of luxuries!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Just Curious
What don't they get?
'Reality.'
But hasn't it been there?
'It has.
For everyone to accept and believe.'
Then what has been the problem?
'Well...
There were those with money,
Who came to alter reality for decades.
However...
Something has occurred recently,
That has come to change everything.'
What is that?
'It seems that the Sun, Moon and Earth,
Have had other plans all along.
And no one regarded them,
As being thinking entities.'
I see.
So all of their conflicts,
Have generated from myths?
'How am I suppose to know?
I am here just to be a witness.
Remember?
Remember when you retired me,
And so many others...
From those positions as messengers?
Remember when you 'downsized' us?
And outsourced our jobs? '
Hey!
Don't get 'snooty' with ME.
I was just curious.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Live It
If you're against abortion publish that you will help support the unwed mother and take her into your home and help support the baby rather than giving to the local church ran like a business taking another offering for a building fund.
I'm sick of pastors living like CEO's making money like a business and practicing nepotism and getting their wife new cars and their kids college educations while poor people sit in their congregations laid off by outsourced jobs.
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Copycats.
Whether ideas, appearance or speech
mere book reading or art-stuff
By imitation, display their weakness to you
Secretly adore u, are epigone bluff
So dear Copy Cat!
You actually making me Glad,
Empower me, making me the ONE
Very few are the Acheytypes
Rest are brainless Apes, hun!
Your stimulated acts, are unsaid compliments
as 'Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery'
try something original, its good
or I assume u've Outsourced your Battery
poem by Samima Shah
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This Degenerating Bust
They are trying to compete
To see who can out disgust.
Our troubled youth we have abused,
With disloyality and distrust.
We have satisfied their every whim,
To hold them now at fault.
They are reflections of who we are...
Sad and pitiful guardians of lust!
Self righteous we've become these days,
With freedoms we've outsourced.
Divorced from discipline and morals...
In this melting potted rust!
And every protest against this trend...
Focuses back on us!
In God we claim there is a trust,
But that faith is meaningless...
And has turned to dust!
Hopefully our youth will restore,
This degenerating bust!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Where Did the Whistle Blowers Go?
Where did the whistle blowers go?
Those who spoke truth,
Like those troops who fought...
In pursuit to protect.
Returning to a homeland,
Where they are shown disrespect...
And much neglect.
By those who champion insanity!
Not humanity.
Where did the whistle blowers go?
Those who attempted to show and keep you,
From being 'downsized' with jobs 'outsourced'.
The ones you were convinced,
To divorce while you sat to straddle fences.
It all now makes sense doesn't it?
But it is clear the ones you help to rid...
Aren't near to hear or support to share your whine!
Leaving you with plenty of time,
To do that effectively alone on your own!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Digested to Manifest
Suddenly their sadness,
Seems to be a benefit to psychologists.
En masse they want back,
What does not belong to them.
Like whims delusions provide.
Even tags sewn in the clothes they wear,
Have been produced in sweat shops.
To enhance cost effective greed.
From a bottom discreetly,
Pulled away from their feet.
And they want it all back!
That which is believed belongs to them.
But even those effectively suppressed...
By a lack of thoughtlessness once attractive,
Can not console them!
All that they 'perceived' was theirs...
Was in name only.
And 'that' long ago had been sold,
To grant them a quality of life...
Unconsciously outsourced.
With a blatant boldness.
When they divorced integrity...
To feed a need to be emblazoned with bling!
And impress others with 'things' that rust.
A prized possession was lost.
And that spirit of pride,
Is forever gone!
Never again to be retrieved.
With votes or quoted anthems.
'We'...
Are what has been digested to manifest.
And dignified into an isolation!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Extraordinary Rendition - The truth shall set you free.
Imagine outsourcing interrogation to extraordinary places
Interrogation turns to torture even cold blooded murder:
Beyond the eyes of the civilized of those who may question even scrutinized
The logic of the truth gained to make you free:
Outsourced to Countries and or regions
Who seemingly have their own forms of political
Autonomous Freedoms:
Where laws are made by militia men or
Dictatorial Puppet Regimes:
Or to locations that simply approve of such schemes
Using interrogation or torture as a means to an end.
© Calac
poem by Chris Lane
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Those Crazed Are Expressing This
The only thing yet to be outsourced,
Are delusions.
Those spoiled are clinging onto them,
As if they continue to have value.
The truth is as elusive,
As the game of naming new terrorists.
Wherever today the fear of them exist.
With implications of their religious doctrines.
A greatness once cherished has flipped,
With a slipping...
Through greasy licked fingers.
And the shame of it all,
Has uncovered new ways to masquerade a fall.
The intention to fantasize has kept conflicts alive.
And those crazed are expressing this on a daily basis.
With the hope that finding fault with ethnic races,
Will produce 'something' to validate Martial Law!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Victims
Who are those that stand by the pillars
Of stop signs or in front of liquor stores?
Are they the forgotten heroes who were once
Served and sent to wars for this country?
Or, are they the victims of social users incense
Of illegal drugs, alcohol, or sex for money?
Who are they?
Are they the victims of our country's economy,
Who lost their jobs outsourced by their company?
Or, are they the victims of love losing their sanity
By rape, battery, or purely the victims of poverty?
Who are they?
That I can no longer pull change from my coin tray;
That I can no longer look at them with eye to eye;
That I can no longer put faith or minute of honesty;
For I was also their victim of their luscious trickery.
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Reality For What It Is
You want a job?
Wake up to face reality for what it is!
There are plenty positions still available.
And once you have accepted,
To become trained successfully...
Volunteer for the overtime.
There will be plenty of it.
Since many will find it too stressful,
To have their pre-occupied minds...
Already set on entitlements.
And two week vacations.
Without working to earn their first cent.
You want a job?
Wake up to face reality for what it is!
There are plenty positions still available.
And that's why those who have outsourced the truth,
Hope the ones who refuse to awaken...
Keep their delusions pursued.
You want a job?
How about ridding your mind of fantasies?
And forgetting about that feast that fed your greed.
That same greed those who once employed but now can not,
To find themselves overseas to receive expected profits to pocket.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Skids Into A Fizz
The budget?
The budget as it is,
Has skidded into a fizz.
No one chooses to say 'flop'...
Hoping that a plot is schemed,
To return smiling and gleaming grins again...
To those so close to giving up.
The budget?
The budget as it is,
Has skidded into a fizz.
With a 'don't-plop-me-down-now-thud'!
And added fuss and frustration.
The budget?
We monthy cuss that budget.
That budget...
Has us all caught up in corruptness.
And feuding over turf outsourced and sold.
Long ago.
The budget?
Skids into a fizz.
And folks with lips poked...
Still want to feel,
They can pop...
More champagne.
The budget?
Skids into a fizz.
And folks with lips poked...
Still want to feel,
They can pop...
More champagne.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Potless Wishes
Why aren't you enraged?
'About what? '
The state of the economy!
'Remember years ago,
When I told you I was 'downsized'?
A new term they were using back then
To declare people were no longer needed,
To perform jobs being taken away from them? '
Yeah, I remember that.
And those jobs were 'outsourced'.
Another term created!
'Right!
And something about the way it was used...
You knew it didn't belong to you any more!
Your 'gut' told you it was gone forever!
Over the years such words as surge, stimulation package
Bailout, rescue relief and mortgage meltdown have been introduced.'
Things 'are' happening rather fast it seems.
'There are some terms being tossed about for introduction,
For folks to absorb and digest!
They were sampling them the other day at the supermarket! '
What are they?
'Vacant Shelfing and Mental Evacuation.
I've dealt with Vacant Shelfing on a number of occasions,
When I was a child.
We use to call that 'Potless Wishes'
However...
'Mental Evacuation'?
That's the term that stumps me! '
Why is that?
'Something tells me...
That is not going to be done on a voluntary basis! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Mix Of Blended Nausea
Is everything done they do prefabricated?
Or is it just those things hidden,
Under secretive cover...
That are eventually discovered by others,
To then become exposed and revealed...
For the purpose to over-hype and frighten.
Especially those locked up in their 'boxes',
With teachings to rate their favorite escapades...
By physical appearances, hair texture and skin color.
'What do you refer to?
Extraterrestials?
Religious beliefs?
The price of gas and oil?
Economics?
Utlilities?
Jobs outsourced?
Exports and/or imports?
The cost of education...
Or employment creation?
Blonds, brunettes, dreads or bald heads?
Blue, brown, hazel, green or grey eyes? '
Which ones are relative to you?
'All of them.'
Oh...
I see.
So you buy into...
Variety is the spice of life nonsense?
'I wouldn't call it nonsense.'
Really?
What would you call this mix of blended nausea?
'That's close enough.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Is A Leech
A leech feeding,
Could care less off of what it feeds.
It is a leech.
Feeding to satisfy its own need.
To do what it pleases...
Eat to feed itself to then move on.
And anyone observing a leech in action,
Is not going to convince that leech to share.
The awareness of the leech doing that is not there.
A leech feeding,
Could care less off of what it feeds.
It is a leech.
Feeding to satisfy its own need.
To do what it pleases...
Eat to feed itself to then move on.
It is a leech!
Born and taught to exist for what it is!
It is not a care provider.
Or a nourishing vegetable,
Loaded with beneficial vitamins...
Benefiting the mind and physical wellbeing of mankind.
No,
It is not!
It is a leech.
That's it.
Defined by its own circumstances.
And programmed to identify,
What it has to do to survive.
And once it knows what it is,
It is not going to be anything else.
No matter how lengthy the therapy sessions.
Or the sacrifices others make...
When the activities of the leech begins to become outsourced.
A leech is a leech!
Nothing more.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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