Plentiful Are Those With Blank Stares
Some personas develop at a certain age.
And do not progress.
Perhaps that is the reason,
Many adults still possess...
A noticeable immaturity.
In grown up skin and more like children,
With limited communication skills.
And devoid of accountability.
A seriousness does not in their minds sit.
And comprehension?
Forget it!
And when some folks reach,
The 'state' of a higher consciousness...
An 'aloneness' is what they get.
In depth conversations,
Are few and far between.
But plentiful are those with blank stares.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Wisdom Patiently Achieved
Looking at them,
Anyone would perceive them to be...
Adults.
But listening to their conversations...
And hearing from them speak,
An overwhelming immaturity...
Immediately those mature,
Would detect a childishness limiting...
Their ability to be accountable.
Or any seriousness taken of responsibilities.
And flaunt they do,
Their children conceived.
With few of them understanding their parental deeds.
Leaving themselves and their communities,
Lacking in comprehension...
Of a discipline and what it takes,
To succeed.
With an applying of experience,
And a combination of mistakes made...
That requires a wisdom patiently achieved.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In The World Of Adulthood
Those remaining,
In the playing of their silly games...
In a sustained immaturity,
Find themselves wishing to undo...
What it is they have done they do,
Once to them it has been acknowledged...
Those remaining,
In the playing of their silly games...
In a sustained immaturity,
Have lost all credibility...
In the world of adulthood,
Where children dressed 'as' adults...
Are not allowed to impress,
With a childish foolishness to be accepted.
'Comeon!
You can't take a joke? '
~I use to accept fools with a suffering done...
Of their antics too.
At one time.
But a seriousness of my life,
And in my mind...
Seemed to have overnight,
Risen to the top of my priority list.
And adults who are mature,
Are the only folks I wish to deal with.
And they today appear difficult to find.
Call it...
A plateau of maturity reached.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Agitate A Childish Game
Sometimes I am tempted,
To agitate a childish game...
That has been played.
Just to feel and see it done...
To throw it back in someone's face.
But games played like that,
Have long passed their attraction.
Although so many are caught up in them...
With an immaturity that seeks as shown,
An act played like that would offer a satisfaction.
Sometimes I am tempted,
To agitate a childish game...
That has been played.
Just to feel and see it done...
To throw it back in someone's face.
And everyday I witness,
Immature adults with childish minds.
Complaining to others about who they don't like.
With a waste of time whining,
Hoping to 'hook up' with a like mind.
Everyday I seem to witness,
More children who should be adults.
More who have not discovered responsibility.
Or an accountability that brings to them concrete results.
And everyday I witness,
Immature adults with childish minds.
Complaining to others about who they don't like.
With a waste of time whining,
Hoping to 'hook up' with a like mind.
Sometimes I am tempted,
To agitate a childish game...
That has been played.
Just to feel and see it done...
To throw it back in someone's face.
But games played like that,
Have long passed their attraction.
Although so many are caught up in them...
With an immaturity that seeks as shown,
An act played like that would offer a satisfaction.
And as I pass such activities,
I feel blessed to have aged gracefully.
Although I grit my teeth...
Wanting to find a reason and purpose,
To respond to an ignorance...
I do my best,
Not to acknowledge...
With a reaction given that would please.
Thank You, Thank You, Thank You...
Farther.
For the gritting of my teeth,
And the keeping of my peace!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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They Know That They Don't Know
They know that they don't know!
And their opinions discloses the evidence.
Most of their knowledge has been obtained,
By innuendos and nonsense.
Leaving them exposed,
To an ignorance that shows.
They know that they don't know!
And any actions taken to comprehend...
Becomes entrapped by an inferiority,
Felt within them.
And that which escapes their understanding...
Is left out of their reach.
Although very close...
Are those answers they seek most.
But quick they fold their arms to their chests,
With stubborn hands to express...
Their choice not to hear,
What for them is best!
Declaring they wish not to listen...
Because facts distracts,
A consciousness they lack!
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it...
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it...
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
They know that they don't know,
With their minds closed.
They know that they don't know,
With their minds closed.
They know that they don't know,
With their minds closed.
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
They know that they don't know...
And it shows.
They know that they don't know...
And it shows.
They know that they don't know...
And it shows.
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
They know that they don't!
Stubborn and they're limited.
They know that they don't!
Stubborn and they're limited.
They know that they don't!
Stubborn and they're limited.
Stubborn and they're limited.
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Zombies Have Been Seen
Children are permitted to be taught lessons.
To grow to become successful,
With each progressive step.
Who then decides when the experience of it should end?
And where did the adults go...
To remove anything learned,
From minds they felt
In need of complete vacancy!
To leave the responsibility of accountability...
Placed upon the shoulders of teachers.
Who are accused of not being qualified...
By those who expose a lack of brain activity.
This is frightening.
Nothing heightens,
An expanded consciousness.
That broadens the experience,
One shares with another to leave.
Even zombies have been seen,
Performing...
In choreographed routines to thrill!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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
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Not One To Encourage A Response, However...
People in hiding,
With beliefs their unspoken intentions...
'Should' be understood.
Are finding themselves,
Alone with their misguided perceptions.
And there is just too much evidence,
That immaturity accepted to nourish...
Flourishes the environment,
With the presence of too many latrent fools...
Doing the best they can to escape,
From the accountability of their actions.
And people blame the children,
For the boisterous disrespect and ignorance.
I am not one to encourage a response,
However...
Can the minds of today,
Address the depth of a shallowness expressed.
And accept this as a reflection of themselves...
As if to take pride in the reality of their social dysfunctions.
And pretend this existence is clear and free of normalcy.
I am not one to encourage a response,
However...
Hasn't it been time that those delusional find,
Truth in themselves...
As a gift and nothing one has to fear!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Praying To Maintain Their Status
There is nothing more exhilarating,
Than being in an environment...
Of children raising children,
And none of them are nourished...
With an influence meant for them to grow.
And surrounded they are,
With opportunities to have fun.
Leaving them free of accountability.
And anyone attempting to have some,
Is regarded as a threat to broadened any aspect...
Of a higher consciousness.
With an observation of them,
Praying to maintain...
Their status as victims.
And succeeding.
There is nothing like witnessing,
The feasting done of this.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Like Children
Can we run through the field like children?
Two adults playing tag.
Can we find a stream like children?
...Skip stones to see how far far is.
Can we climb a tree like children?
Sit on a limb and enjoy the view.
Can we roll in the grass like children?
Tumbling over one another.
Can we forget our cares like children?
Laughing with joy for no reason at all.
poem by Patti Wilburn
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Inspired In Minds Within
What will be witnessed that comes to an end,
Is a limited mindset.
With a broader and higher consciousness,
That begins.
People are awaiting for something 'physical'...
That will transcend to deliver them.
When all that we are...
Has been 'spiritually' inspired in minds within.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In Grown Folks Skin
It is not okay,
To say what you wish...
About another.
Then decide from your lips,
When and what you have said...
Should be dismissed.
There are too many children,
In grown folks skin.
Believing irresponsibility,
Is alright to defend.
It isn't.
Nor is one's refusal,
To be held accountable.
It is not okay,
To say what you wish...
About another.
Then decide from your lips,
When and what you have said...
Should be dismissed.
As if feelings aren't connected to it.
There are too many children,
In grown folks skin.
Believing irresponsibility,
Is alright to defend.
It isn't.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When Feelings Like These Are Felt
To be in the presence of adults,
Still in full possession of child like mentalities...
Gives me a chill.
The kind I know is noticed.
Listening to their depth or lack thereof,
Can be likened to a teacher taking a piece of chalk...
And scraping it across a blank blackboard.
Achieving a desired effect.
To gain attention...
From those prepared to be taught lessons.
Some who become 'startled' will awaken!
However...
Many who have skipped those classes,
To learn absolutely nothing...
Seem to be the ones seeking now to be heard.
With a comprehension that skims on the rim of shallowness.
And irritating anyone who has developed a patience.
A patience one can admit at times like this...
Seeks quietly to find an exit.
Before offensive comments begin to slip accidently,
Out from the mouth of one who is not seeking to be polite!
Or feels a need to accomodate others,
With a show of good social skills.
When feelings like these are felt,
It is time to cordially leave!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Seen Cleaned and Fed
It is not difficult to leave behind,
Those who do not mentally or spiritually grow.
When one in a higher state of consciousness,
Arrives to that mindset...
It is not a fashion statement made.
Nor a fad to fade when it is replaced.
When a process of growth is progressed...
A change occurs.
Similar to that which is recognized,
Between children wearing diapers.
And adults who wear them too!
Literally and figuratively!
It's in the observation,
That something has leaped...
In both understanding and maturity.
One seeks to cling.
The other wishes to be seen cleaned and fed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Some Things Done And Delivered
I am sure I have not been the only contributor,
To neither conceive a receiving of flattery...
From contributions presented,
Will obtain a following blissed by this.
Hopefully there is a comprehension established,
By those mature of mind understanding what it takes...
To develop this process they of a consciousness embrace.
But there will always be the ones with beliefs,
Some with a focused determination...
Are not serious in the production of their creativity.
And they will find a way to waste lots of time,
With a choosing to introduce a game playing of minds.
To manipulate attitudes to prove themselves...
Judge and jury of one's thought process too!
However...
A messenger only delivers a message.
And this may be confusing,
To those who take matters in their limited hands.
Perceiving messengers are at their disposal,
To abuse them as if to pursue an undoing.
And from them command with a demanding.
But needless to say,
Some things done and delivered as they come...
Should be accepted and not chased away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What Children Once Did
As far as perceptions go,
One should not believe they know another,
Based upon what they have been told.
Everything living like the seasons do change.
There are too many people walking around,
Who have yet to say hello to someone 'known'.
But can spend hours talking about that person,
As if they had witnessed all of their activities since birth.
And when it comes to some folks related to others,
Embellishing what they do as time passes on...
Is enough for them to create who that person is 'today',
Because it was known who they were in elementary schools...
Doing what children once did and still are expected to do.
With the leaving of hints and the dropping of clues,
As to why there is such a tolerance...
For immaturity and the acceptance of ignorance.
And the allowance given not to offend,
Those who have abandoned accountability altogether.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Am Not That Giving
If you do not know what respect is.
And you wish for me to point out to you,
Those things you do that are disrespectful?
And your attraction to immaturity too?
You need no longer excuse what you do that has been done,
On pride.
There is something disconnected in your head.
And I am not about to teach another adult,
What is appropriate social etiquette.
That would be likened to teaching a full grown cat,
The aspects of hygiene.
I am not that giving or blessed with those skills.
You want me to do what?
Tell you when you are being disrespectful?
How old are you?
55?
I am not that giving or blessed with those skills.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Aging Hands
There are those,
Spoiled from birth...
Who believe they can do,
Exactly what they please...
When and to whom they choose.
They do not accept responsibility for their actions.
And accuse others for being insensitive,
When their lack of accountability...
Infringes upon those deeds they perceive,
Are discussed too direct and much too frank.
These folks,
Are fighting internal battles.
And they surround themselves with others,
They rely to protect them...
From the pain of reality.
Unfortunately,
And eventually...
They are 'forced' to be the adults,
They dress outwardly and masquerade to be!
Very few,
Walking upon this Earth...
Are going to stagnate their own growth,
Raising stunted children's minds...
Charading themselves in adult bodies,
For too long!
Knowing something about this,
Is sick and wrong!
These times are changing much too fast...
To keep a grasp onto aging hands!
Especially when the traffic,
Is moving like it is...
In all directions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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Children
Playgrounds, playscapes, games and fun.
Escapes and escapades...
Away from a seriousness is done.
A raising of children to become older kids,
Is the intention throughout adulthood.
And this is welcomed by more than some.
With a responsibility that never is achieved.
Since many were bred to be fed,
To stay as children in their heads...
Free of any accountability to feed and spread.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Blasphemistic Emoting Hypocrites
Turned off I am,
By those in church voice.
Softly spoken scripture quoting,
Folks who approach...
Those with souls to save.
~They seem to be all over the place,
These days.~
Passing out their leaflets,
Depicting the end of life as known.
With pictures of Sunbeamed disciples,
With wings and halos worn and overblown.
Blazing away and being lifted up by the rays.
And when these folks are safe,
In shelters behind closed doors.
They pick up their phones,
To gossip with neighbors.
To talk about the minister.
And who in their churches,
Is disliked and ignored.
And what 'they' don't condone.
Yet they cuss out the children,
Who loudly play on the streets.
Calling them sinning heathens...
Then threaten to call the police.
Flipping through their Bibles,
On Wednesday during Bible class.
Singing in the choirs,
And unwrapping candy snacks.
Making noises throughout the sermon.
Giggling with whispers passed.
Then when asked to attend meetings,
To get things done in the community....
Excuses from their mouths come out.
No time do they have for unity!
Not for their minds to grasp.
But praise God that they've been asked!
Turned off I am,
By those in church voice.
Softly spoken scripture quoting,
Folks who approach...
Those with souls to save.
Passing out their leaflets,
Depicting the end of life as known.
With pictures of Sunbeamed disciples,
With wings and halos worn and overblown.
Blazing away and being lifted up by the rays.
Going through the motions...
Emoting hypocrites,
Devoid of spiritual motive.
And blasphemistic...
These self righteous loyalists.
Devote not one shred of consciousness...
To rituals routined.
Without a depth of feelings connected.
At least none believed,
Either meant or seen...
To be convincing.
'You can't tell me nuthin' bout Gawd.
I study! '
~But do you know how to pray?
Something is missing in your conveyance.
A delivery is heard.
But a comprehension of it needs 'your' attention.~
'Excuse me?
You I don't see in church at all.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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