Owners of Pockets Full and Deep
It is incomprehensible to perceive,
Those born and taught to be thieves...
Would have giving hearts for anyone to believe,
They would rush to the aid of others seeking...
Opportunities.
Or share a piece of a stolen pie.
Those who have created for themselves abundance,
Did not do so...
Crawling and clawing their way through tons,
Of grit and grim or mud of any kind.
Those stories may be told...
To deceive enchanted by good fiction.
However,
Those who are the owners of pockets full and deep...
Usually are not graduates of a nine to five.
And rarely have they received,
An abundance that they hoard...
Based on philosophies of sharing with their fellowman.
Folks like these are out to get as much as they can,
While keeping it out of the hands of others.
And that is the nature of a mind,
Nurtured on materialistic feeding.
What one like this gets...
Is meant to tease others in need.
Owners of pockets full and deep,
Pay to ensure...
Those unconscious,
Are kept to stay unaware in a sleep.
With the dangling of carrots...
Far out of their reach!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Empathies At a Minimal
I keep my empathies at a minimal.
And my sympathies are rarely shared.
I know my upbringing has taught me that.
And those emotions I feel are based on fact.
I don't wish to express something that is not there.
And my caring for others is extremely deep.
When I give it is from my heart.
Nothing inside of me just lays there without purpose.
When I share I share.
Not because I've received an overflow.
And invested abundance of it it what I share.
God has seen fit...
There is much more meaning for my existence.
To give is to receive.
Sometimes.
Sometimes it is best to just give.
Since some folks have no clue,
To know what it is they are receiving.
And if that is known...
It is to one's advantage to dispense with it well.
At least have a consciousness about it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Existing to Feed the Greed of Thieves
If the eyes of today,
Aren't opened as wide...
As the hole one feels in saddened hearts,
Or emptying pockets
Stripped
Of everything other than one's balled fists.
Those unaware...
And can not feel this,
Are either hopelessly smug.
Or drugged on crack!
People like these are addicted to being deceived.
And do not need to become awakened from their beliefs.
Leave them to be left...
Experiencing a slow painful death enjoyed!
Only a twisted mind will become annoyed,
If attempts are tried!
They are in denial!
They have accepted their lives have been lived well.
And all this time they are doing just fine!
With minds existing...
To feed the greed of thieves.
Choosing to perceive them,
As the ones who have been 'chosen'...
To lead them to abundance and victory!
And absolutely nothing anyone says,
Will close that hole in their hearts.
Or mend that space in their heads!
They are already...
Among the walking dead!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Aging Of Entitlements
The aging of entitlements,
Has created a deep hole...
For those who perceive,
Their lives are compared...
To those of royal thieves.
They want to continue to believe,
They are deserving to stand tall...
On the backs of the poor.
As a cementing of doors...
Prevents them to advance.
The aging of entitlements,
Has created a deep hole...
For those who perceive,
Their lives are compared...
To those of royal thieves.
As the throwing of trinkets to appease the needy,
Is treated as if good deeds are done...
By the ones who welcome their blood ties.
To a history of gluttonous feeding of selfish greed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Keep Your Faith Placed Safe
Fortunes meant for you,
Are not for anyone else to keep.
Unless they are holding it,
To be released to you.
And you are within reach.
People numbed from their surroundings,
Sleep.
Intoxicated by medications,
To ensure they stay away...
From wishes to be on top of the heap.
And lay under burdens tolerated,
With a sharing of addictions...
That has convinced them not to leave.
Don't dropp a tear or weep for them.
Stretched to the max,
With their pockets getting thin...
They are
And this they confirm,
Enclosed in minds suffering within.
With a slow burn inside they earn.
Afraid to relax their grasp that holds,
Onto old routines...
From them they can't let go.
As most routines on some bestow.
But a fortune meant for you,
Will come...
And that is true.
If your faith is placed,
In the hands of The Maker.
If your faith is placed,
In the hands of the Maker.
Yes a fortune meant for you,
Will come...
And that is true.
If your faith is placed,
In the hands of The Maker.
If your faith is placed,
In the hands of The Maker.
Whatever you need The Master will feed,
If your faith is placed,
In the hands of The Maker.
Refuse to brood like so many do,
And keep your faith placed safe...
In the hands of The Maker.
Whatever you need The Master will feed,
If your faith is placed,
In the hands of The Maker.
Refuse to brood like so many do,
And keep your faith placed safe...
In the hands of The Maker.
Keep your faith placed safe,
In the hands of The Maker.
Keep your faith placed safe,
In the hands of The Maker.
Keep your faith placed safe,
In the hands of The Maker.
Keep your faith placed safe,
In the hands of The Maker.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother Nature Has Them On Trial
Their entire value systems,
Are based on gold!
Yet they have undermined the people,
Where this resource is in abundance.
And have murdered those most deserving.
Just to keep themselves nourished,
With a thirst to deceive.
Like they have bled and devalued,
Their own existence with greed...
And denial!
Now Mother Nature has them on trial!
And they can not perceive this...
Or conceive it to believe!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Before A Gripping Hand Can Affix To It
I was told as a child,
That money did not grow on trees.
And as soon as I accepted the concept,
Of earning it...
I don't have it in my pockets long enough,
To get familiar with its presence.
If someone was to attempt to pick my pockets,
I am sure they would ask for tips...
As to how I have managed to survive,
On a fixed income...
That comes to go before I am aware of it.
And I appear as if i am the 'king' of abundance.
It's like this...
If something comes to go,
Before a gripping hand can affix to it to identify...
It becomes like a memory embellished.
And as time moves on to go by,
That which is embellished becomes one's reality.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In fact, an awful lot of N.F.L. club owners have practically no influence on their players at all, simply because they're not full-time working owners.
quote by Pete Rozelle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Behind My Back My Friends Still Love Me
no friend betrays me
because they all love me
be it at the front
or behind my back
they all are enchanted by my charm
and they like my hugs so warm
the one that rushes blood to their hearts
despite their heavy work and tight schedules
far from me
in other states and the edges of the world
they still have time to say hello
and tell me
they miss me
i am full of joy
receiving and mutualizing what they are giving me
with such abundance of the heart
our mouths speak
nothing but love
and friendship
our hearts leaping with joy
our hands raised in praise
for friendships true
like flowers blooming
in the early coming
of spring
long sunny summers
cool breeze
banana boats and
surfing boards
to the sea of life
with so much to offer
what a life!
what a joy!
come! let me touch
your trembling hands
let your kind soul
taste the chinese soup in our bowl
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Radiate or Shine Bright With Light
There is a couple of things I've always known.
My worth and value.
And there is nothing I treasure more,
When in the act of giving without expectation.
Some choose to be represented,
By things seen to flaunt.
As if the age of what is shown is priceless.
As if it could sit without reflecting dust.
Or tease with taunts,
To agitate an envy...
Wished and wanted.
While others consume themselves,
Collecting names to drop.
As if this raises them up a notch.
But these insecurities never meant a thing to me.
I've observed street sweepers,
With more personality and far more dignity.
People like that I see as really being on the top.
People empty of identity and purpose...
Could sit behind the wheel of a Mercedes,
For all I care.
They seem to be nurtured from a hollow crop.
They could drive from point A to arrive at B...
And still not have a thing to offer or share.
But empty conceit and hot air to spare.
There is a couple of things I've always known.
My worth and value.
And there is nothing more I admire...
When I see that within others!
And they don't have to have a dime in their pockets,
To radiate or shine bright with light!
These are the folks I admire and like.
These are the folks who excite my life!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Digging Real Deep
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch or a feel of return.
And a lesson's not learned,
That...
A deposit made to dip,
For tasty lips...
Took too many dips,
To withdrawn the end of it.
And there will be no return...
You put that last deposit in your pocket,
And then you split...
With it.
You put that last deposit in your pocket,
And then you split...
With it.
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch or a feel of return.
And a lesson's not learned,
That...
A deposit made to dip,
For tasty lips...
Took too many dips,
To withdrawn the end of it.
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch of return,
IS...
Digging real deep.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch of return,
IS...
Digging real deep
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch of return,
Long ago had been burned.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Hands Of Fate
in not all instances
perfect as you consider them to be
these hands
are not meant always for taking something in
not at all
there are enlightening moments
when the hands are meant for giving
without having an exchange
or value
there are dances of the hands
clasped in the solemnity of prayer
open to the art of acceptances
the solitude of keeping them
inside your pockets
or the holding of the face of love
bringing it near yours
for the kiss
the heart guides you what to do
with what life likes to give
you and what you must accept
without any remorse....
the hands knows when to take sides
with shame
as you begin to cover your face
and run away
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Charity Begins At Home
A shake of the tin
The money drops in, but is it a sin
Youre standing in rags
Youre selling your flags
But who gets the dough at the end of the day
We saw your drop-dead fancy wheels
Your little house up on the hill
But when your conscience pricks
A little sacrifice sweetens the pill
So keep your hands in your pockets
Charity begins at home
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity wont leave you alone
We take to the stage
The audience rave, were doing our bit
A heavenly cast, a blast from the past
Theres a song to be sung, will it make number one
We wanna see your money roll
But our eyes are on the hall of fame
'cos business is business
And hits are the name of the game
So keep your hands in your pockets
Charity begins at home
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity wont leave you alone
Everywhere that we turn
There are mouths to be fed
How can we sleep
The battle goes on while were
Safe in our beds
So dont turn away
No dont turn away
Your doors are locked
You switch on the box to take in a show
You think that youre safe
But here comes that face
And wouldnt you know its that message again
They want to take your plastic cash
Your hand reaches out to the phone
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity begins at home
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity begins at home
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity wont leave you alone
Everywhere that we turn
There are mouths to be fed
How can we sleep
The battle goes on while were
Safe in our beds
So dont turn away
No dont turn away
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity begins at home
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity wont leave you alone
(repeat 5x)
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If It Was About A Lot Of Money
If it was about a lot of money...
My mind would be,
Trimmed in dollar bills.
With-my-thoughts-on a million of them,
And a caring less of my fellowman.
And if it was about a lot of money...
I'd ignore,
Every two cents made.
By anybody wanting to deliver to me,
Any consciousness attached to common sense.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money...
I wouldn't be concerned about the suffering seen.
And if it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
And if it was about a lot of money...
My eyes wouldn't cry when I see these scenes.
If it was about a lot of money...
My mind would be,
Trimmed in dollar bills.
With-my-thoughts-on a million of them,
And a caring less of my fellowman.
If it was about a lot of money...
I'd ignore,
Every two cents made.
By anybody wanting to deliver to me,
Any consciousness to instigate.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money...
I wouldn't be concerned about the suffering seen.
I'd fill my pockets and get away!
If it was about a lot of money.
I'd fill my pockets each and everyday.
If it was about a lot of money.
I'd fill my pockets and get away!
If it was about a lot of money.
I'd fill my pockets up and run the other way.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
And if it was about a lot of money...
There wouldn't be a single word I would say.
I wouldn't have concerns or feel this way.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Deep Sleep
Ive been walking in a deep sleep
Sleepwalking but I just woke up
From a deep sleep
A very deep sleep
Ive been running on remote control
In a deep sleep
I awoke the moment I was told
That a smile is just a frown turned around
On the face of a clown with a mean streak
It was a deep sleep
A very deep sleep
I cant remember what I used to know
Somebody help me now and let me go
Into a deep sleep
Push me back now let me go
Into a dream again
To a sleep unlike before
So deep it never ends
Ive been caught inside a deep sleep
Sinking deeper after I forgot
Sleepwalking as I watch myself
In a deep sleep
I keep pretending that its someone else
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Folks Who Wish to Boo Hoo
My abundance is flowing.
Yes it is.
I'll sit and observe you,
Wallow in tears.
But I am not here to share any of that.
Not to wrap, pack and carry.
Like you have done to burden your back.
You do an excellent job.
And I am sure you are proud of that fact.
However...
Your sobbing and choked filled anguish,
Is not an involvement prioritized on my agenda list!
My abundance is flowing.
And I am going to keep it like this!
I am through with folks who wish to boo hoo...
As if they exist for it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Thief Of Hearts
(a. rich, j. friedman, j. kraus, h. hattler)
Producer: trevor horn
Album: wildest dreams (96)
Let me tell you about a man I knew
Yeah, I knew him all too well
My attitude has always been you can have me for tonight
But not for tomorrow
Its gonna cost you plenty, more than you can afford
More than you can borrow
Well I can make them fall in love just as easy as i
Pick their pockets hey
And when Ive done the deed I jump on a freight train
And make my getaway
Im a thief of hearts, a burglar in the night
Before they knew what hit them I was out of sight
Been a thief of hearts, now Im paying for my crimes
Cause now youre gone and stolen mine
I met you on a starry night, full moon in your eyes
Did something strange to me
I was all prepared to spin my web, take you for a ride
But there was a fork in the street
Well I didnt mean to fall in love, didnt practice the rules
That Ive been taught
You never get involved, never drop your defences
But this time I got caught
Im a thief of hearts, a burglar in the night
Before they knew what hit them I was out of sight
Been a thief of hearts, now Im paying for my crimes
Cause now youre gone and stolen mine
Thief of hearts, paying for my crimes
Thief of hearts, and now youve gone and stolen mine
Feels so good, I want more, it should be against the law
song performed by by Tina Turner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cars... Waiting in the sun(9/11/01)
Patiently waiting their owners,
the cars sit alone
Blue Mercedes, black ford,
red Dodge, grey Toyota
But for tonight these waiting cars,
will not be going home
No one gives it a thought,
nor cares an iota
Only two days later
does one give it a thought
That these cars waiting their owners,
and coated with dust
Would never be driven again
by their owners
Though waiting, patiently…
oblivious in trust
Waiting in bright sunlight,
where once there was shade
From the two majestic towers
that seemed to forever persist
Waiting in the lonely parking lot
for owners delayed
By the fact that their owners…
and the towers… no longer exist.
poem by David Whalen
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However You May Lay Your 'Loo-Yahs
So given we are,
With beliefs our thoughts within us...
Are kept detached and private.
We are born into this 'reality'...
With a belief we jouney alone,
On a separate trip.
Alone and away from others,
Also participating in this experience...
We are taught in the process to call 'life'.
So given we are,
With beliefs our thoughts with us...
Are kept detached and private.
We even believe we are separate from the trees,
Birds and bees...
Are other created creatures upon thie Earth,
God, too, has made.
So given we are with beliefs,
There is something that will be achieved...
With the infliction of division, fear, hatred and greed.
There are some creatures God has blessed with life,
Who actually believe they have been certified...
As human kites.
To maneuver to heights,
And by themselves.
So given we are,
With beliefs our thoughts with us...
Are detached and kept private.
Some self righteous even perceive...
They can even deceive God!
As if God takes momentary leaves,
Of absences.
Only to discover,
When Mother Nature gets upset...
And has had it with our selfishness.
Just how fragile those who 'empower' themselves...
Are lost to fight against the true power of God,
His 'Diciples' and those messages delivered...
'Whether one is feeling blessed or cursed.
With abundance to enrich...
Or poverty experienced in cycles that are reversed.
What is here to witness on 'this' Earth...
Is 'not' one's dress rehearsal.
From birth...
Be 'yee' and those of 'thee',
Tested.'
WHEREVER!
Or...
HOWEVER you may lay your 'Loo-Yahs',
In the best of pretentious praise.
These days we now live,
Are not for the fake faith seekers...
Preaching their hollow beliefs,
To maintain their materialistic thieving.
It is time to give those corrupted ideals up!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Soon Coming to a Set of Eyes Near You
They could have had their culture and identity in place.
But many of them because of jealousy,
Took their time to slander and erase...
Any deed that was done by anyone who came to uplift them!
They were sure to crush and ambush.
That has been their unconscious mission.
They are mentally sick.
But don't know this!
Folks with megaphones in communities...
Preaching from the Bible about unity.
Are they themselves in divisions.
They reflect themselves to have conflicts within them.
They do not have peaceful minds at all.
Recovering from drugs and alcohol.
Wanting to express their personal findings of God!
What has been embraced today...
Is a guilt expressed that has created an economic mess.
And a decadence that has fed gluttony,
Will still be at a heated fervor pitch...
If there were signs an abundance of it were being produced.
And Bible thumpers had their hands on it.
When folks see their greed about to cease...
That's the only reason they call upon God!
And that's why God is switching up all agendas.
With priorities for many to become vividly clear...
In the sharing of one reality!
There will be no varities or assortments of it...
Depicted from one's interpretation of a scripture lifted,
To define God's meaning.
Soon coming to a set of eyes near you!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nobody ever.....
In his youth, his callow empty youth
his eyes were misty.
He learnt about sex from Cindy,
but nobody ever, no, nobody ever,
taught him how to love.
In his youth, his callow empty youth
his pockets were full.
He drank, he smoked, he learned to use a gun
but they never, no, nobody ever
taught him how to have fun.
In his youth, his callow empty youth
his wits were sharp.
He learnt to duck and dive and to deceive
but they never, no, nobody ever
taught him what it is to really live.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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