Reality Fatalities
Bitter is the truth,
Coming to some to stun.
And in these awakening days now lived...
None of it is partial.
A totalness of it is addressed,
As it relentlessly gives...
Heartbreak and emptiness.
And tempers everywhere,
Are there and flaring.
Truth is not to be dared!
Its affects are bold.
Leaving folks beholding it...
In blank and helpless stares.
Unbridled are horses and other pets.
Showpiece collections...
Being stripped away,
With tears and regrets!
Like the sudden departure of anything,
Or anyone loved...
That leaves behind a grieving,
And much unhappiness that is left.
To feel without an accepting...
Like the ease of a breathing breath.
These reality fatalities,
Meeting a squeezing done.
By a faltering of an economy...
Dwindling from a greed,
Excitedly greeted and once welcomed.
Now gone.
Swept across a land of those who once believed,
Their quality of life was set and sacred.
Untouched but now discovered...
Is a bleeding felt that succeeds.
They can not recover,
From lifestyles lived beyond their means.
When the certainty of truth...
Brings with it a stinging done.
And demeaning with a death,
Of all delusions that have been kept!
These reality fatalities,
Meeting a squeezing done.
By a faltering of an economy...
Dwindling from a greed,
Excitedly greeted and once welcomed.
Like the drifting away of leaves,
From barren trees.
Never to reproduce the joys...
And those temptations that seduced,
A feeding fed that has run out of its 'juice'.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Traumatic Has to Be the Reality Faced
Traumatic for many,
These days lived...
Has to be.
Especially for the ones who identified,
Their lives and self worth...
With the ability to purchase 'bling',
And other materialistic things.
With money that from them is dwindling.
Traumatic has to be the reality faced,
There is no substitute for truth that can be replaced.
Nor are there those empathetic,
Who have grown accustomed...
To finding their way on the streets to eat and sleep.
And yet those with beliefs they are above all of this,
Find themselves indebted to their beliefs...
They wish to keep.
And...
Traumatic for many,
These days lived...
Has to be.
For those who make demands as if...
Their lifestyles can be sustained,
By squeezing them...
From an economy based on credit.
That has exhausted all fantasies,
Once supporting a delusion...
There was no ending that came to a feeding of a feast.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Without The Money
It is always the economy,
Affecting needs.
Always it is!
And not one's education...
Flaunted as perceived.
It is always the economy,
That breathes and feeds on greed.
And no matter if one goes to college...
It is not the Masters or Doctorate degree,
That keeps one perched...
High on a pedestal for all to see.
Without the money,
All pretensions can be dropped.
Oh without that money,
All the bragging seems to stop.
And it is without money...
No one talks about what they've got.
Or fingerpops with a bee-bop hopped.
If money is not felt...
A sobbing begins with a flow,
That can not be mopped.
It is always the economy,
That breathes and feeds on greed.
And no matter if one goes to college...
It is not the Masters or Doctorate degree,
That keeps one perched...
High on a pedestal for all to see.
It is that MONEY!
That holds a head higher than clouds.
It is that money making days sunny.
That ties that magic knot!
And if the economy doesn't feed,
A feeding of greed one receives...
A boo-hooing of tears becomes the reality.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Which Is Which
> To beware of the truth.
> Is truth...it, self?
> So, what is truth?
>
> Is truth, true love?
> Or...just a reality?
> To be a man...is that truth?
>
> A man...is reality.
> A woman...is reality.
> To be woman...is that truth?
>
> To have more then one partner
> Is a reality of the world.
>
> Which this world agrees.
> Truth is; in my point of view
> Is what one claims to be truth.
>
> But, the truth is whatever you
> Are doing as I speak.
> A woman is good for the soul.
>
> That truth is very bold.
> A man lives for his manhood
> So I am told.
>
> Is it truth or reality?
> Respect is in the middle of the spectrum.
> Male vs. Female
>
>
> That is truth.
> Man being woman
> A reality.
>
> Woman being man...
> She tries.
> Respect cover both the unreal and the wise.
>
> Truth or reality...we never really
> Give it much thought.
> Maybe it was the way we are taught.
>
> Truth or reality...
> Which is Which?
>
>
> whisperkwane
>
> [email protected]
>
>
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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So Remotely Distanced
Discussing reality brings many to a sadness.
So remotely distanced from truth...
A life without delusion pursued,
Is not a life lived.
And many today refused to do it.
Fed on elitest ideals and dreams,
With luxurized lifestyles...
In condos with high walnut wooden beams,
Is how many see their purpose.
Surrounded by materialistic 'things'.
And things without enlightenment,
Is a life lived incomplete and empty.
With a seeking of sympathy...
When things are taken away from them and gone.
As complaints from them placing blame on others...
Goes on and on and on and on!
Discussing reality brings many to a sadness.
So remotely distanced from truth...
A life without delusion pursued,
Is not a life lived.
And many today refused to do it,
Too.
Choosing their own sanity to maim.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Novocaine Free
What world have they been living in?
Not to notice the vanishing,
Of their quality of life slowly diminishing.
It's not as if there were not those who said so.
However...
There were those who chose to deny,
They were vicimizing themselves.
By accepting disrespect.
And condoning its appearance...
As the best yet to get.
While making no demands,
By raising a firm hand against this mess.
And suddenly they wish to stop the bleeding?
Suddenly they wish to see their children disciplined.
Suddenly they value the purpose of higher education.
Thinking now becomes a treasure.
And a comprehension is wanted...
By those who now understand,
What the mind can do when it is used.
And now folks choose to move forward...
With beliefs there will be no pain.
And for these folks it will be unfortunate,
For them to experience...
A reality that comes to them,
Novocaine free.
With no numbing of delusions done,
To trade reality for weekend escapades.
What comes is here to stay!
Prickling with truth to aid those awakening...
From their bouts of charaded amnesia.
Recessed with sweetened fantasies!
'1-2-3...
WAKE UP! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Blank Faces
Why are they gasping?
And looking in shock about?
'It is dawning on them,
There is a 'reality' to truth.'
Isn't reality...
The truth?
'They just discovered it.
But let's keep our faces blank.
We'll pretend we have no clue,
What they are talking about.
Here comes one now...
Rushing towards us,
Looking scared to death.
Hopefully they will run right past us.
Ready...set...GO!
Blank faces.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Accredited Arrogance
Many are turning their backs away,
From those hollow feelings felt...
Left by the chase of over-taxing lifestyles.
Awakening to the facts,
A sigh of relief is more welcomed...
Than a status obtained that has gone.
More people seek happiness not grief.
More are seeking purpose than symbols of success.
More are finding reality is cheaper to keep,
Than the skyrocketing expense of maintaining delusion.
Many are turning their backs away,
From those hollow feelings felt...
Left by the chase of over-taxing lifestyles.
Awakening to the facts,
A sigh of relief is more welcomed...
Than a status obtained that has gone.
And no one has of yet confessed,
As to what they have kept possessed...
From 'owning' anything that has been repossessed,
To be sold at auctions to the highest bidder.
After one has slaved away throughout one's life,
To keep a pride dignified at a price today...
One can no longer socially flaunt,
With an accredited arrogance.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Her Truth
Your truth claims to be a reality
While her truth is the reality
Your truth is just another fallacy
While her truth states actuality
Your truth tries to call her an insurgent
Just another agent
Trying to spread hatred
When her truth really speaks for those you have murdered
For those you denied existence
After they fought for their freedom
Went to the streets to express their position
And you accused them of being destroyers
Ended their lives like they worth nothing
Your truth tried to oppress them
Suppress their voices
While her truth spoke for them
Went to the squares screaming for their liberty
Fighting for their authority
Your truth is only believed by those who shared your earnings
Those who sold their souls for the Benjamins
Used religion, race and lies to serve your purpose
While her truth refused to take it all
Her truth was so pure it refused to sell the martyrs blood
Your truth has become so little
So her truth rose above it and took over the scene
Your truth was caught out
Your truth was discovered
More and more are finding her truth
Seeing the Real Truth
And yours, of course, just wished it would have listened…
poem by Jacob Arden
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Here Lie's The truth
“Here Lies the truth”,
On Her tombstone this will be wrote.
It was never spoke when She was living,
So also in death, it will be unspoke.
By Her it was never said
it was as though pulling out Her soul,
So here lies the truth and herself dead
Both has died in sadness and woe.
Here lies the truth,
Not once by her was it cried,
Not in the days that she was living,
Not even in the day that She had died.
She must of believed that it was a sin
To open Her heart and listen to the word
So She closed her heart and locked it shut,
And She never believed in no one but Her.
Here lies the truth,
It lived but a very short life,
Though the Woman died of years of age
The truth though, never had a chance to try.
Everyone She knew had learned Her lie
They never believed a word that she said
So when She finally tried to speak the truth,
Her heart stopped; and She laid dead.
Here lies the truth
It lived but a very short life,
It was loved by neither Child or Man,
For they believe its living was but a lie.
So here in the grave it will lay dead
As it had lived in this woman's soul,
Never again will it be uttered or thought of,
Never till the end of time will it be thought of or known.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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This Addicted Feeding of Spoiled Greed
Change for many is unbearable.
It is feared.
A life known lived,
In accepted stagnation...
With those corrupted leading the degradation,
Is familiar and preferred.
A slower decline into devastation...
For those who distrust truth,
Is heard and followed until this is allowed,
And occurs within the minds of those 'conservative'.
With delusions again winning like a surging herd,
Over common sense entrapped without defense.
People miss and hunger for...
Their sweetened fantasies.
Although it has been stated more and more,
The economy can no longer support,
This addicted feeding of spoiled greed...
That has depleted all vision of demanding sensibilities.
Who are the 'centrists' against 'liberalists'?
With their wishes...
For a return to cobbled streets!
And a dimming of consciousness.
Wanting more to be free to live selfishly!
Even if it means to do it in total darkness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Can You Come Back This Monday?
No focus has been placed,
On those of us who have become totally 'nuts'.
With the disruption of the current economy...
Some no longer pretend,
They are complete social psychopaths.
And it has become extremely difficult these days,
To separate those demented and declared crazed...
From those expressing a temporary loss of sanity.
Even the affects of racism,
Had its boundaries with unspoken certainties!
With the children of all kinds doing what they please...
Showing a lack of discipline,
With the ease of drinking alcohol, abusing drugs...
And using condoms as decorative ornaments.
One would think,
Society has long suffered from a condoned mental disease!
And this has increased in numbers.
Since their delusions teased with greed,
Has decreased significantly...
No focus has been placed on those classified as 'nuts'.
With the disruption done to the economy.
And if this should persist as it is like this...
All hell is certain to break loose.
With a way of life induced by fantasy,
Accepting chaos and rage as society's reality.
'Harry,
There is a masked man at the door demanding cash! '
~Tell him he has caught us at a bad time.
I'm still sorting through our things,
Worthy to pawn.~
'I know this is going to be disappointing!
However...
We are kind of pressed for loose change,
At the moment.
Can you come back this coming Monday?
Say around noon?
We will probably have something then for you to rob!
And please...
Forget the mask!
You nearly scared me to death! '
*Here!
Take this twenty!
I stoled it from next door.
They don't need it.
When I come back...
Give me a list of the things you need! *
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Unspoken truth
The truth hidden in me
Is the thing nobody can see.
I am acting as a treasure keeper,
Hiding it to be discovered.
Truth has its own fate
Reality is known by it.
After knowing the truth,
You will know what it worth.
Things seen by eye and heard by ear
Will not be believed and not to be care.
This is the only truth unspoken.
It’s thee truth of life,
Hide it to survive.
If anybodies knows
Please don’t let it to flow.
If shared than gone,
All will run towards the throne.
Beauty of life end there
When unspoken truth of life is know here.
poem by Amar Ghimire
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Fantasies of Accomplishment
Does a normalcy achieved with good credit,
Remain so when lifestyles crumble...
And taxes are still due on what is 'owned'?
When a quality of life as shown today,
With very little quality of it left...
Begins to fade as the end of a masquerade nears.
Do those who brag about being on one job,
For twenty-five to thirty years
Rush to retirement pensions dwindling?
Or do they wish they had been mavericks
Who decided many years ago...
Being thought of as 'crazy' isn't nearly as bad
As trying to hold onto something,
That not only has lost value...
But everything about it has lost meaning?
When squirrels are secretly meeting
To discuss sharing their nuts
With the less fortunate..
I would think that this would be a hint
That a way of life taken for granted,
Is changing more rapidly
Than those who believed...
Holding onto material possessions
Leaves an impression,
They should and could possibly sleep peacefully at night!
Especially those who find they are clocking more hours,
Than dollars to maintain fantasies of accomplishment!
And 'where' does this all lead?
To a sharing of never ending delusion!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nursing On a Rhyme
On the other side of greed,
Where the numb lay lifeless...
And stung in their slumber.
Some choose to sneak a peek,
At misdeeds done.
While others pretend,
They see no one...
Feeding like vultures!
Who love the taste of wasted minds,
Attached to stubborn behinds!
On the other side of greed,
Many seem to be awakening,
From deep sleep seeking...
After verifying,
They have been drugged like sheep.
Stripped bone clean...
Of everything they believed was theirs to keep.
As harmonic chimes heard,
In the background ring...
With sweetened sounds of a lullaby.
Nursing on a rhyme that begins to sting...
An accepting slaughter that finally brings,
Folks provoked to bolt in revolution!
Crumbling centuries of myths,
And symbolic illusions!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Egos Addicted
Images are needed,
By a society fantasized...
With hyped perceptions.
At the expense of an enforced,
Dwindling greed.
How can egos addicted,
Keep from bleeding?
How can selfishness worshipped...
Be curbed?
Stopped!
And no longer serving,
Those disturbed in denial fits!
Images are needed,
By a society fantasized...
With hyped perceptions.
At the expense of an enforced,
Dwindling greed.
And those elected to protect their 'treats',
Find they've become accountable...
To ease a reality upon these minds.
Teasing them with beliefs of victory!
When deceit and defeat...
Has surrounded them for sometime!
How can selfishness worshipped...
Be curbed?
Stopped!
And no longer serving,
Those disturbed in denial fits!
How can egos addicted,
Keep from bleeding?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Honest Truth
the truth is i love you
the truth is i always dream of you at night
the truth is i do my best to hide it from you
the truth is the future is blank without you
the truth is i am hurting
the truth is i am scared
i am scared how i pretend in front of everyone
the truth is a cannot tell anyone of this
the truth is i cannot even tell you
then it starts to hurt even more
the truth is i'm scared to tell you
the truth is you might be scared to break her heart
the truth is i'm scared you might love me too
the truth is i am not happy
the truth is i don't feel the love i want
the truth is i want to be loved by you only
the truth is you're too blind to see
the truth is you might not believe me if i told you
the truth is you might be scared of it
the truth is the emotional distance kills me
the truth is being close to you makes it worse
should i tell you this truth?
would you believe this truth?
the truth....the truth....the truth...
i'm the only one who knows the
and this truth hurts
because the truth is i love you
the truth is i love you
the truth is i still love you....
03 August 2010
poem by Neo Patricia Monamodi
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Options of Deceit
I would find truth offensive too...
If I had not allowed myself a break,
From my delusions.
And what I discovered about truth...
Had me dilute those delusions,
Until I was able to let them go completely.
I did not know truth and honesty...
Were not options of deceit?
Did you?
I believed deceit was used,
To protect those afraid to be too honest.
And I had heard that truth hurts.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Is a Welcoming of Truth In Everything That Is Done
I remember my encounter...
With reality!
That's when I was stripped,
From those things I valued.
I was spinning in a whirlpool
Of a cruel introduction to truth.
I had some things I liked.
Things I thought I needed,
And kept polished!
Waxed to keep dust reflecting shadows.
Yes!
Even though accelerated winds,
Kept cars I owned spotless.
Dust and I became enemies.
I just didn't want to see any of it on my cars.
I took my parents for granted.
Until they became ill,
And passed away.
Friends I shared nakedness with.
And every conceivable intimacy...
Were gone!
Vanished in thin air it seemed.
And the things we shared,
To impress each other with...
Became useless possessions.
Especially when loved ones go,
And you are left holding onto emptiness!
And it doesn't take long...
To discover the valueless nonsense in this!
I remember my encounter...
With reality!
That's when I was stripped,
From those things I valued.
I was spinning in a whirlpool
Of a cruel introduction to truth.
And when I began my pursuit,
To free myself of guilt...
I had to forgive a superficiality I had with life.
When I discovered my heart could be broken,
By the permanent absence of those I love!
There is a welcoming of truth in everything that is done.
I am blessed to have learned how to love and forgive.
And blessed to appreciate my life as it is.
And so very blessed to have come to know the ones I loved!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Let Them Have Their Tea With Crumpets
Let them have their tea with crumpets.
Sound the trumpets,
For those who seek a return of greed.
Since the leader the people selected,
Can not in truth maintain their philosophies.
He...
Wishes to present to them realities.
And they...
Were raised to feed on fantasies.
With praise they wish the world,
Continues to see.
That greatness hyped with hypocrisy!
But those who have chosen to sip their tea,
Even without him leading them...
Can not believe nor accept,
A change is evident.
With a coming to them that is direct.
Because on just 'credit'...
The economy bleeds.
And those who now seethe,
Are the ones who depleted it!
Let them have their tea with crumpets.
Sound the trumpets,
For those who seek a return of greed.
Since the leader the people selected,
Can not in truth maintain their philosophies.
And without his honesty...
They perceive a boundless gluttony,
Will and can come back again.
'What about the thieves?
Who holds them accountable,
For their activities? '
Sssshhh...
That is part of the reality,
They rather see erased from them to leave.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Unquestioned Madness
An escape route from reality has been discovered.
Those cherishing their delusions,
Have come to sigh a breath of relief.
A last minute effort to smother them with truth...
Was discovered to be too cruel.
Too much of it on them released!
And too traumatic an event...
Causing the advent of a massive anxiety,
Carefully prevented.
'Sales revenue and holiday shoppers,
Must be protected!
They must not suspect...
A way of life lived is not accepted.
Shower them with Christmas scents,
And gifts to pick throughout all seasons.'
Fantasies have been extended...
With unlimited pretensions granted for all.
Accountability has been dismissed!
With permissions of accusations,
To inflict those innocent...
With encouragment.
And to become less appalled,
By those left in gutters crawling.
'Free coupons and rebates?
A momentary payoff for those being ripped off!
But kept flooded with delusions! '
This is the bliss that is wished by those sick!
And raising their voices to insist a boasting lift to this,
Unquestioned madness existing.
Is a quality of life needed,
To feed addictions to defend!
And nothing on Earth will keep their beliefs from them!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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