Regardless Of Those Appearances
The selling of any image,
That directly conflicts...
With that which is in existence.
And clearly represents,
A negligence that is in shambles.
Does not mean for one moment,
That the image sold free of imperfections...
Should not be held to be one golden.
With a choosing of it as reality.
And reflects all that is properly etiquette.
Since this as a deliberate promotion shows,
Has been marketed as a brilliant achievement.
Regardless of those observances.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Many Do Have Their Doubts About This
Yes...
Many do have their doubts about this.
But we are that 'energy' on Earth,
Reflecting image.
An energy that reflects,
From the Sun...
As it is given.
And how this is done,
Adds to the mystery of 'IT'.
What and 'Who' we refer to as being God...
Is more than just an image.
We are 'cells' within a Mind,
So magnificent...
This 'Greatness' has chosen,
To keep our own minds blind.
Yes...
Many do have their doubts about this.
But we are that 'energy' on Earth,
Reflecting image.
An energy that reflects,
From the Sun...
As it is given.
And how this is done,
Adds to the mystery of 'IT'.
Like fruit picked from a tree.
Or from a vine to peel.
Under the skin...
That's where the deliciousness,
Carried within us is revealed.
And the trees support us with air to breathe.
We take for granted,
The ease presented by this complexity.
Yes...
Many do have their doubts about this.
But we are that 'energy' on Earth,
Reflecting image.
An energy that reflects,
From the Sun...
As it is given.
And how this is done,
Adds to the mystery of 'IT'.
And 'something' tells me very soon...
We are going to learn much more,
About our existence!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Corporation Property
[Jed]
Shes in her own world
Celebrity girl
She doesnt know what lifes like down here
Shes been sold, shes been bought
Corporation Property
How in this world can she be happy ?
(Chorus:)
How can she sell herself so blindly ?
Her imperfections disguised so finely
Adored by so many but nobody knows her
What will she tell herself when shes older ?
She shows off her skin
Delivered to sin
A pre-packed teenage fantasy
Identity lost, but at what cost ?
Advertising property
How can she wake up to reality ?
(Chorus:)
Absorbed in a world of lies and illusions
Always choosing the easy solutions
But now shes a product no longer a person
Mass perversion of her physical version
She lasers her face
Its such a disgrace
Her image is just an illusion
She enlarged her breasts, to be a success
Pornography property
Trapped in her world of confusion
(Chorus:)
How can she sell herself so blindly ?
Her imperfections disguised so finely
Adored by so many but nobody knows her
What will she tell herself when shes older ?
song performed by by Urban Clearway
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Bovine Finding Time to Eliminate
Postering a wholesomeness,
That flip flops from a reality.
To have others believe a quality of life,
Remains intact with values standardized.
Is a bunch of...
What a bull does when squatting.
Although those pretentious,
Object to this image as being offensive.
With a preference to label this action taken,
As a bovine finding time to eliminate....
With an etiquette kept that is properly placed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Image
Written by: richard marx & fee waybill
Hope you dont believe a word
Of all the things I know youve heard about me
Really just a pack of ies
You see the truth before your eyes around me
Hard to keep it straight
The real from the ruse
Probably way too late
What can I do, but its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
Would it be too much to ask
That you could just gvie me the chance to prove it
Or would it only be a waste of time
To try to make you change your mind and use it
What Ive been looking for
Isnt what I thought
Not behind the golden door
Youre all Ive got, and its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
What Ive been looking for
Isnt what I thought
Not behind the golden door
Youre all Ive got, and its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
song performed by by Richard Marx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sometimes There Is A Moment
Sometimes there's a moment,
That we don't want to change.
Sometimes there's a moment,
Where we are truly happy.
Sometimes there's a moment,
That you want to last forever.
Sometimes there's a moment,
That you look back on and smile.
Sometimes there's a moment,
When you see someone in a brilliant way.
But there's always a moment,
Where that person's changes.
There's always a moment,
Where that image fades.
poem by by unknown author
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The Obviousness Of Delusion
Keeping up with appearances,
And striving to sustain a maintaining of an image...
Eventually becomes to be viewed as one's insanity.
Especially during these times,
When those who are clearly out of their minds...
Seem to be the ones more conscious of image.
And not able to embrace the reality of change.
With the obviousness of delusion,
Being stripped away on a daily basis.
To reveal truth and its existence everywhere.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The different Ministries have to work more on the promotion of the country, to build Kosovo's public image. Concrete projects must be assembled, in order to activate our businessmen to have more contacts. We have to create a positive image about ourselves.
quote by Ibrahim Rugova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never Been Sold Before
You ask me, babe, "Can you work tonight?"
I've been up, babe, since broad daylight
I just can't believe that you're selling me,
You never sold me before
I just can't become your lousy who-o-ore
Yeah, I'm stacked nice, they really like my style
Fifty bucks, babe, ha, can't even buy my smile
I just can't believe that you're selling me,
You never sold me before
I just can't become your lousy who-o-ore
I-I-I-I find I come around just to lay this money on you, babe
I'm sick of streets, chicks and dicks, and I'm,
I'm really sick of you
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
I just can't believe that you're selling me,
You never sold me befo-ore
I just can't become your little whore
No, no, no, no
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mirror, Mirror On The Wall
Mirror mirror on the wall
You reflect the image of how far we fall
from grace as we consider the face
we believe ourselves to be.
Is that all that most of us see?
We are fooled by that looking glass.
And yet we glimpse at it as we pass
all of our imperfections we carry around.
But inside our eyes what is found
is the soul that accepts all of our flaws.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
I must always try to recall
who I am and always shall be.
It's certainly not just what I see.
For I am more than my image shows,
more than my figure, my height, my pose.
I am who I've always been,
not this body that I find I'm in.
I am the earth, the sun, the moon.
I am the morn, the night, the noon.
And so I say to my mirrored wall.
'You can't ever reflect me.
For you don't know me at all.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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O' Mirror
All day long roaming around
Sometimes I stand before the mirror,
See my own image looks at me,
Yet I'm puzzled not to find my `self' there.
I see the quiet nature depicted on my complexion,
And I know my `self' is veiled by a humane mask.
In the mirror my image looks like any other human,
My hand-face-eyes all are normal and intact.
Yet behind that intact wall
How many wounded memories, how much pain of loss,
And emptiness lives
Only my heart knows.
Where does my heart live?
Nobody knows that, even the mirror does not.
Still I look at with deep wonder
To find where in my heart
Inconsistent pain and imperfections are;
In the outer shell of mine I find only indifference.
This mirror shows very strange image;
It does not find my own world, -
My emptiness, frustration, the heart breaking emotion-
It does not show me anything.
Only those impassive eyes look at me,
How much tribulation of heart it hides!
In the outer quiet nature none of that be found;
O' Mirror, show me the image of my heart, if you can.
poem by Riffat Samad
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Nominated
Poised and groomed for screening.
And picked as those correct to select.
Suited for electing...
With an image held as the best.
Reflecting a 'middle-of-the-roadness'
With proper etiquette.
Making harmless decisions...
And giving folks what they expect.
Nominated as water walkers,
Squeeky clean and free of sin.
If they do live in darkness...
They may sneak a sip of vodka,
Or may not pop shots...
Of lemon twisted gin!
It's difficult not to show imperfections,
From admiring spying eyes.
Microscoping with a closeness,
To see after dissecting...
Which one would represent,
To prove emaculate they have lived their lives.
While those prepared to choose...
Booze, cheat and deceive.
But wish to pick someone less wicked.
And one who is capable...
To disguise a life,
All can come to agree...
Can win the top prize.
And at least will make attempts,
To walk on their polluted waters!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give Me Image
Enough!
Enough of this...
Self righteous ambiguity!
Fed by those seeking consciousness.
Give me image.
I have yet to have enough,
Of this 'truth-as-I-see-it-life-I-live'.'.
Give me image.
How else can it be expected,
I keep my pretensions alive and thriving?
Do not rid from me my freedom,
To exist living for images I see fit to project.
I can not bare the acceptance of the reality...
Thrown in my face I am suppose to respect!
Give me image!
Do not strip me of my need,
To seek quality delusions to please, eat and feed.
Give me image.
So that I may feel free,
To live in the midst of unending fantasies.
And aspects of threatening truth...
Disturbs my mentality!
As I witness it pursue the awakening of masses.
Pass me my rose colored glasses, please!
Enough!
Enough of this...
Self righteous ambiguity!
Give me image.
I have yet to have enough,
Of this 'truth-as-I-see-it-life-I-live'.'.
Give me image.
Let those images forever in my mind,
Find within me reason to exist!
Give me image.
And enough...
Enough of this,
Self righteous ambiguity.
Fed by those seeking consciousness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Success And Image And The Face Of It
Those who say,
Looks aren't everything!
Aren't the ones who are judged,
Based solely upon them.
And besides...
This can be deducted,
From what many prize.
Thick lips, nappy hair and brown eyes...
Are not considered standards,
By those who analyze.
Not for a beauty,
Considered to be immortalized.
No matter who is competent...
In a package that is presented!
If it doesn't suit the taste,
For those who select an image to digest.
As an appearance,
That suggests success...
And not a waste to regret.
It will be the 'image' one picks,
Over a competence that 'may' exist.
'But hasn't it been image and not substance,
That has increased in an invited decadence? '
Well...
Yes.
'But who in reality today believes? '
Remember this...
Image speaks volumes.
And easier to hype.
On the other hand...
Reality is something placed,
On an equality wish list...
Not too soon to happen,
For the sake of changing...
Success and image and the face of it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Of Image. And Not Substance
We were hired to clean this house,
But where are all the supplies to do it?
'The last occupants,
Took everything.
Including the kitchen sink.
And left nothing behind,
To enable us to do the job properly.'
This will be gruesome news,
To those who value this place...
As a symbolic image they pride.
We will have to triple the budget,
Just to maintain an image.
'What about the people,
Who aren't aware of this? '
I will do the best I can,
To convey that message.
However...
They will just have to face the truth.
'I don't envy the position you are in at all.'
Many do!
But they are certainly not getting the message,
From this inside point of view.
And...
I've already told them I would need their assistance.
'But sir...
If I may say this.
They are a people of image.
And not substance.'
I am finding that out!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In It For the Sake of Image...And, Perhaps Contrast!
Free to be who I 'is' ain't cool.
For those who wish to depict me as a fool.
Or entertain their whims...
To fantasize my depressed beginnings.
I refuse to be ignorant.
I refuse to pretend,
My mind I don't use.
Or welcome an abused ending,
Of my life experience.
To be documented in an expedience.
With an erased historic contribution I make!
No time do I spend dreaming of wings in an afterlife...
With others in white robes!
As harps play.
While visions increase...
As I pray on my knees,
For a pair of golden slippers.
I have flipped that image!
I don't accept because I am black...
That I should expect to be kept held back.
Because I lack a qualified 'intelligence'.
Compared to those expressing none at all!
Except for those certified as approved robots!
I am not into kicking down doors for them to open.
Nor do I neglect with disrespect...
Those who elect to keep faith and hope.
Whatever their motivation...
I support.
But I do object to the use of symbolism.
It conflicts with the 'Everywhere And In All Things'
God Is!
Nor do I choose to hang out with those...
Who are taught to feel remorseful.
As they dope up,
To choke on 'good' weed...
With feelings to get 'high'
To increase a low self esteem.
That ain't me!
And I ain't seeking equality either.
Preached by leechers...
Who enjoy seeing me dance,
As I reach for 'their' expectations.
Prancing down the aisles of churches...
To release my last earned dollar.
However...
I do not object to those feeling charitable,
In my behave.
Donations I will accept...
Yes! Most definitely.
I am seeking to be me.
Without a rehabilitation stamp on my behind!
I said I accept 'charity'.
Nothing emblazed on my butt!
As anyone's piece of precious property.
And...
Without being branded a minority.
By those suppressing me with the falsity,
Of their superiority over me!
That's one lesson I never quite understood.
And failed.
I'm not living my life to claim limitation!
Or seek a Tarzan for rescue!
I was not raise to await those days to come.
Nor flee from obstacles!
That ain't me!
I have flipped that image!
And others...
Some my sit to equip themselves with!
In labor to discourage me.
And I have observed their numbers dwindling,
In frustration!
While they watch my every move...
The shirts on their backs are being sold,
To the highest bidder!
An updated version of slavery!
Marketed on Wall Street!
And my knowledge could have saved them,
From embarrassment.
But not once have I been asked,
How I manage to maneuver...
With their feet strapped to my back!
I think they had been doing that for the contrast!
Since they are just in it,
For the sake of image...
Sales.
And a bottom line,
That's borrowed!
To keep the gush of an ignorance,
That bleeds!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Living Picture
If I am a living picture of
my soul, my poor soul is
ailing, how can eternal life
be represented by a tem-
porary physical vessel
It is degrading, demeaning
to make such a statement;
soul seems to be so much
bigger, better and powerful
than spirit and body
If my grumbling existence
and restlessness should be
the image of my soul within,
I see no chance of happiness
so I prefer another theory:
The body reflects ideas and
fantasies to be implemented
and which the soul will com-
ment and enlarge repertoire
of spiritual experience, but
I don't believe appearance
represents soul, all visual
things fall short of ideals;
only JOY is a great repre-
sentation of soul…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Yes, you.
If you have a voice
And you choose not to use it
Because it is convenient…
Because your image reflects
A check mark…
A stamp from the small souls
On the surface of your head...
Then please reexamine it
From the inside.
Do not try to further build an image
By visiting a country in the great continent…
The problem is right here, darlings…
As soon as you step on their ground
And play nice…
They can see right through you.
Because you are representing
The small souls that destroyed their mother land.
So stop building a nice image for yourself
Your shiny ego…
And start questioning the root of the pain.
poem by Erica Borges
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Poeticating What a Poeticator 'Do
Blank is my mind like a canvas.
Not filled with disarray or confused with thoughts.
A melody may come into mind.
Finding an image!
And thinking of a time...
To begin a poetic line,
That may or may not rhyme.
As a mental search begins,
Defining an image.
Before surrounding that with meaning.
Something accessible.
Lean!
And has comprehension in it that screams.
Bites!
Then frame it with...
A title meant for it!
That's the task of one who 'poeticates'.
In creative ways...
That uses the reader as baited prey!
'Poeticates? Po-et-o-cates, okay?
One who is in the process of preparing,
A poetic verse to be spoken publicly! '
If it sounds good,
Make your own stuff up!
That's all it is anyway!
Finding something that connects.
And reflects with anticipation.
Not to be confused with po' etiquette!
And depending on the nature of the 'piece'...
That too is invited!
Poeticating what a poeticator 'do' when done!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Die to Live
My identity is questioned
My existence is questioned
Questioned to erase me
From this globe forever
By my own creators
My heart beat increased
I am really frightened
Felt lump in throat
I hadn't noticed tears
I looked for a hug
A hug for support
To back my identity
To back my existence
But I have no one
To support with hug
So I'm backing myself
In my well of loneliness
For my own existence
And my perishing image
In hands of a tyrant
I may lose my image
And existence forever
Whatever may happen
I will fight the tyrant
And will die with honor
So at least my name remains
poem by Kranthi Pothineni
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Of Those Insecurities Kept Encouraged
If all one knows,
Is a superficial existence...
That 'is' their reality.
And 'all' they have come to know.
A collective reality,
Had not been advantageous...
To those marketing their values,
And varieties of it to keep a greeding fed.
An image picked to have all teased with it...
Has been the only priority,
To keep division a lucrative aspect...
Of those insecurities kept encouraged to flourish.
'Nobody knows...
Those troubles I've seen.'
You want to place a bet on that?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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