People...Are...OBSESSED
People...are...OBSESSED,
With adults having extramarital sex.
As if sacrilegious acts have been made.
As if a blasphemousness against God has betrayed.
Sports figures and entertainers,
Outside of their marriages having sex.
Diminishing their prestine images...
That makes a public following distressed.
Yet...
All of us are human beings.
With sexual needs to address.
If consenting adults decide to be naked...
What business is it,
For others to attempt to ridicule and suppress.
People...are...OBSESSED,
Yes!
With adults having extramarital sex.
As if sacrilegious acts have been made.
As if a blasphemousness against God has betrayed.
An eternal legal bond,
Made and broken by two.
Coveting 'thy' neighbor's piece...
Should be left to the courts to undo.
Although in the Bible...
None who 'begot' tied a legal knot!
But busy bodies with 'nobody' have nothing else to do.
And these are the people who pray in pews...
With eyes closed begging for a forgiveness.
While pedophilic priests do as they choose.
Covering up their demonic acts,
Doing exactly what they please!
And with whom.
And we leave those places of wosrhip,
To point self righteous fingers.
With a lingering that despises...
Those of fame we wish to shame!
To proclaim them as dissenters...
Deforming a conformity.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Sonnet: Adults
Adults are selfish beings of the earth;
Adults don’t forgive/ forget tho’ mature;
Adults are creatures adamant by birth;
Adults are jealous beings, by nature.
Adults have arguing tongues till the end;
Adults misunderstand others with ease;
Adults can neither condescend nor bend;
Adults cannot adjust with/others please.
Adults are sinful in thought, word and deed
Adults are the ones, misguiding the youth;
Adults are beings revengeful indeed;
Adults can speak effortlessly untruth.
Adults advise but remember old fights;
Adults cannot give up their insane rights!
6-1-2001
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh!
We met as two consenting adults in some
Busy, crowded malls, and we offered our true names,
We like each other, we love the way we talk
It was easy, we are two consenting adults and we
Met again somewhere, not in the crowded mall
Not in the busy street, not in the church to pray,
We are lovers, we are two consenting adults,
We are the new lovers, and we know what is the
Secrecy of love its sanctity when we as consenting adults
Met again, and we are naked,
We have embraced ourselves as truths not as lies
In the open
In our openness, we swallowed ourselves in utter openness
We welcome what happened
We said it was wonderful we want to meet again and feel
So wonderful
We have the will, we have the free will, we are free
Then you said something while you were alone and distant
Yes it was wonderful but it was when I lost my senses,
You chided me, you were lost when we did something wonderful
And you said it was something dirty, you have indulged in the
Arms of the wrong person, in the wrong hours, in the wrong places,
You even vomited what wonderful was it that was swallowed
By you as a consenting adult, and I as a consenting adult
I thought it is wonderful and I always
Think it is wonderful, I do not know what dirty is
I was not raised in dirt, I do not know dirt, I am not dirty
Days and days, you reflected upon its wonder, the wonder of what we did and you call me back, you emailed, you texted
You like to meet me again in some crowded malls, in some busy streets we start all over again to trace the maze of amazement again
You offer your true name again, your senses in full you smile
You are a traffic sign blinking the green for go again
The wrong person is here, he is now lost in his senses too,
You called the wrong number, you emailed the wrong mails,
You texted the wrong number, you will be calling the wrong person
That wrong person has gone away, he is the wrong person to your
Thousand eyes and he has no more reason left to stay. He cannot wait for you, the malls are crowded, the streets are busy, and the door of
The house is now closed. And he is now the traffic sign which blinks
The red for stop.
There is no one to be blamed, It is our upbringing that brings
the end.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Moral Fiber!
true moral fiber...
is grounded in respect!
respect yourself!
respect the earth!
respect your neighbor!
(everyone is your neighbor)
respect the search for truth.
respect justice!
respect the rights of human beings
to be human beings!
respect the need of each and all!
living thus...
will not allow you to respect,
acts of injustice,
acts of ignorance,
acts of prejudice,
acts of greed!
be respect!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Legal Genocide Committed On Industrial Scale
It was legal genocide committed
on industrial scale even in city sized
slaughter camps like Auschwitz!
Systematic killing murder of entire
ethnic groups; all chosen people
from chosen ethnic, national or religious
groups selected for extermination!
Terrible things done to millions
of people in slave extermination camps!
Incredibly politicians bureaucrats
made passed laws to legalize the process!
Architects men designed ovens
to gas people burn their bodies
using the latest technology builders
built them; people supplied installed
the gas pipes; people built the huts
where those selected for final solution;
lived awaiting slaughter like animals!
Nazi's killed human beings like bugs
like an infestation of plague rats!
No mercy no regret no shame
because it was legal government...
a Nazi Third Reich declared
it legal righteous a purification
people involved were obeying...
The law obeying Reich law man's law!
Participating in a noble cause! No!
Participating in a heinous crime!
Against God’s law against humanity!
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Libertarians recognize the difference between adults and children, as well as differences between normal adults and adults who are insane or mentally hindered or retarded.
quote by Tom G. Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Those' Images Made
People love to treasure those images made.
Those images created to help them escape,
From depictions of reality.
And the way the displaying of it is portrayed.
People love to treasure those images made.
People love to treasure those images made.
The ones flowered to sugar without a bitter taste.
Those images glammed up to spotlight,
On a public stage.
But behind the scenes indignities can be mean.
Yet...
People love to treasure those images made.
And their minds are affixed to them to defend...
Every blemish that is openly seen.
Since people who love their images made...
Have not been conditioned on reality to feast.
People love to treasure those images made.
Those images created to help them escape,
From depictions of reality.
And the way the displaying of it is portrayed.
People love to treasure those images made,
With an excusing of detrimental flaws and pain shown.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Children
Wonder, children wonder, but it seems that from an early age it is knocked out of them. Conformity overrides possibilities and even reality slowly starts to ascend in their mind as they are processed through the systems, in fact conformity becomes reality. No wonder that wonder slowly and then completely looses its place. Children's freedom to see new possibilities, to invent knew worlds, knew universes is increasingly viewed with suspicion as they age. Even more devastating to the processes of wonder, is the self righteous way we as adults invalidate children's seemingly preternatural ability to know where adults are coming from, to even punish children because they see and say that the emperor has no clothes on. Their natural ability to know others emotional states and to sense when adults are imposing their darkness upon them and others is far superior to our own in many or most ways; until we force them to see through are own adult processed perception. We would be wise to learn from them instead of trying to control them. The experience should be two ways. This is the best way to keep wonder alive while teaching children to understand them self and the world around them. This takes courage for us adults.
As we know, children do not know their place, they are adept at seeing through adult pretenses, masks, false identities, roles, games, hypocrisy, we are so busy shoving our own way of processing the world down their throats that we forget to wonder with them, to be with them. We become fearful of seeing things through their eyes, through the eyes of the child we once were. Darwin, Einstein, both were precocious, slow very slow in their maturity and unable and unwilling to conform, they such as so many other had a prolonged childhood, and a lasting child like way about them, the wondered.
poem by Michael Kavuoti
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Someone Needs to Draw For Them a Much Clearer Picture
So closed have been my eyes.
So closed and distracted.
From those acts,
That now I can say...
Left unattended,
My values.
Standards I expected to be maintained...
Use to have identifiable names!
Today,
I'd be hard pressed...
Trying to find anyone addressing them.
And that is my fault.
I can't recall the last time,
I reminded anyone...
To keep them encouraged,
Flourished and well nourshed.
I kept hot flashes of fast cash in my mind!
And for too long.
'That'...
I can admit was wrong!
But I can not be the only one,
That has been that stupid?
And I observe more destitution on the streets!
Why can't these people get on their feet,
Get a job and go home! ?
Or establish good credit,
Like the others snuggled in,
Their suburban homes.
Slicing to eat,
Another piece of that Apple pie.
So closed have been my eyes.
So closed and distracted.
From those acts,
That now I can say...
Left unattended,
My values.
'Are those inner city people still whining?
Someone needs to draw for them a much clearer picture.
Perhaps if they see how it is done...
They will get themselves together! '
~Will that be all, Master Lawrence? ~
'Yes.
Make several copies.
Hand a few to that bag lady!
Tell her to dispense with them amongst the crowd.
Maybe that will give them some incentive,
To move away from my doorstep.
And become viable citizens of this great land! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Kuandah
Combat,
Lot of challenges!
Trawling,
Lot of words!
But these practices are like the acts of Kuandah,
And like the romances of adults.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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If Children Ruled The World
If Children Ruled The World,
Parents, Adults and Teachers will go to bed at 8: 00
and wake up at 7: 00 to dress up for school.
At school children will treat them like nothing,
and Parents, Adults and Teachers will have nothing to do or say.
In the morning at school, they would have to line up like chrildrens used to do like every single mornings.
If Children Ruled The World,
Lollies will be for everyone even adults and parents.
Parents and Adults will have such awful rotten teeth just like all children used to have in their teeths.
Every mornings right after adults brushes their teeths or hairs, the children would have to check if their hairs and teeths are alright.
In School Trips children goes for free but the adults has to always pay.
If Children Ruled The World,
the world wou; d be treated badly.
The children would be rich and adults would be poor and always ask for children for some money.
There will be no clean water,
No food for the adults to eat except lollies.
If Children Ruled The World,
WE'LL ALL BE IN A JAM!
poem by Crystal Pongi
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I think the State shouldn't poke its nose into the sexual relations of consenting adults.
quote by Rocco Buttiglione
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Next Page
You have dragons on your head and you think that you are wiser,
But the next page of life will let you know that you are a fool! !
For you only honour me with your lips,
And with your heart very far away from me!
In vain you do worship the doctrine of men! !
But the next page of your life has a question mark;
For you think you are wiser than all the people around you.
Your life is like the Babylon Talmud!
And like the acts of the priests around you;
But am attempt to destroy a culture is all that you want,
And like your dirty acts which are now recorded on the next page.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Betrayed
vs.1 I had always thought that we were best friends.
We had our good and bad times growing up.
He had always acted like an angel around me.
I didn't know about the other side he had; this time I ran outta luck.
(chorus)
He betrayed me,
And I don't know why.
He didn't believe me,
And what he did made me cry.
I don't know what his problem was that day,
All I know is I was betrayed.
vs.2 He told me to leave him alone.
After that, it really made me mad.
I probably should not have blown up right then,
It just tore me apart that he didn't understand that I was sad.
(chorus)
(instrumental)
Bridge: Yeah, I truly thought that he was my bestest friend.
Momma was right; he turned out to be a jerk in the end.
(chorus) x2
I don't think I'll ever know what his problem was that day,
All I know is I was betrayed.
Betrayed, whoa-ooh, betrayed.
Oooh, betrayed.
poem by Rebecca Ryan
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Malicious acts are performed by people for personal gain … Sorcerers, though, have an ulterior purpose for their acts, which has nothing to do with personal gain. The fact that they enjoy their acts does not count as gain. Rather, it is a condition of their character. The average man acts only if there is a chance for profit. Warriors say they act not for profit but for the spirit.
quote by Carlos Castaneda
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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With A Catering Done
Education will always be a deficient process,
As long as people are offended...
By anyone expressing intelligence.
And when the raising of children,
Isn't done by adults with a goal to increase...
Perceptions to connect a comprehending growth,
Shown that is released.
People become defensive when in the presence,
Of one who has experience to share.
And instead of being respectful with a listening...
One's biasness takes over.
And a critiquing diminishing from them begins.
With that as the awareness there to be given.
Education will always be a deficient process,
As long as people are offended...
By anyone expressing intelligence.
And when the raising of children,
Isn't done by adults.
With a catering done to an ignorance as a result...
An encouragement of mediocrity flourishes without end.
'So what is the ultimate solution? '
Something that will remove biased attitudes.
With an implementation in everyone's mind...
To find reasons to respect with a leaving them colorblind.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Prince Of The Punks
A well known groover, rock n roll user,
Wanted to be a star.
But he failed the blues, and hes back to loser,
Playing folk in a country bar.
Reggae music didnt seem to satisfy his needs.
He couldnt handle modern jazz,
cause they play it in difficult keys.
But now hes found a music he can call his own,
Some people call it junk, but he dont care,
Hes found a home.
Hes the prince of the punks and hes finally made it,
Thinks he looks cool but his act is dated.
He acts working class but its all bologna,
Hes really middle class and hes just a phony.
He acts tough but its just a front,
Hes the prince of the punks.
Hes the prince of the punks and hes finally made it,
Thinks he looks cool but his act is dated.
He tried to be gay, but it didnt pay,
So he bought a motorbike instead.
He failed at funk, so he became a punk,
cause he thought hed make a little more bread.
Hes been through all of the changes,
From rock opera to mantovani.
Now he wears a swastika band
And leather boots up past his knees.
Hes much too old for twenty-eight,
But he thinks hes seventeen,
He thinks hes a stud,
But I think he looks more like a queen.
Hes the prince of the punks and hes finally made it,
Thinks he looks cool but his act is dated.
He talks like a cockney but its all bologna,
Hes really middle class and hes just a phony.
He acts tough but its just a front.
Hes the prince of the punks and hes finally made it,
Thinks he looks cool but his act is dated.
He acts working class but its all bologna,
Hes really middle class and hes just a phony.
He acts tough but its just a front,
Hes the prince of the punks and hes finally made it,
Thinks he looks cool but his act is dated.
He acts working class but its all bologna,
Hes really middle class and hes just a phony.
He acts tough but its just a front,
Hes the prince of the punks.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Be more than a pet
In love with my pet, I did many acts,
Sensing that it liked each of my acts.
It was not to condemn but ready to amend,
When it disapproved of any of my acts,
For it knows my pulse and throbs.
As I hold you, dear, as more than a pet
Can you ditch me for any shortfall?
Is not it a fault of your closed mindedness?
Be superior to, and kinder than, a pet.
14.09.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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History, although sometimes made up of the few acts of the great, is more often shaped by the many acts of the small.
Dreams, Dreams, Dreams
Most children want to copy adults fast;
They try to dress and talk and walk like one;
They want to do the things what adults do;
But children can’t be adults before time!
Adults dream of their childhood years at times;
They cannot move or speak or walk child-like;
They cannot be innocent like children;
They can’t become children again in life.
The elderly have dreams of their own too;
Oh, how they wish they were younger in age!
They recollect the things they did when young;
Their frames and minds are weaker than they think!
All human beings live in dreams galore;
Most dreams cannot become reality;
Our dreams must be something we can well do;
Too much of dreams don’t help to dash ahead.
Each stage of life can be lived only once;
One cannot go back or ahead in time;
Be happy with whatever you’ve achieved;
Life is so wonderful they way it is!
Just keep your mind and heart as per your age;
Be aware of the limits, risks, you take;
Life shouldn’t be lost even through accidents;
Life is the greatest gift of God to you!
Thank God for whatever you are in life;
Thank Him for gift of human life and soul;
Thank Him for all the things, He’d done for you;
Thank Him for all His love and kindness shown!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 10-12-2008
poem by John Celes
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Fill The Void...
we attempt
to fill the void left
when the self
leaves the soul,
with stone images
of a god we've created
out of iced over fears...
created in the image
of our own darkness.
a god that rains down
fire and brimstone
by our hidden whims.
a god that looks like us,
that acts like us,
and despises all else.
a prophylactic thrust
of eternity,
eternity sold on street corners...
and all the while
the stranger waits quietly
just outside the door.
his breath familiar,
his face everyman's,
his actions,
simple compassion.
his name, forgiveness!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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