En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Relied Upon To Be Refreshing

Based upon content alone,
It is obvious to me...
Who is feeding those,
Who boldly plagiarize.
Look at the dates.
Titles and submissions,
Of the work that is done.

It's like the feeding of thieves!
They do not cook up any meal.
However...
They will demand a favorite taste to add,
To a menu.
And then do their best to convince anyone,
What ingredient is needed to have it savored.

Plagiarists are all over the place.
But innovation is always relied upon to be refreshing.
And those who originate,
Can not help but deliver the goods.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only To Nibble A Bit To Then Spit

It is not easy to deliver,
A betterment of one's best.
It becomes expected,
When a taste is created...
And that taste another accepts.

People get use to the familiar.
Although prior to it,
They had settled for the bland.
Until a spicing done to that blandness,
Made more of the spice...
Requested by demand.

It is not easy to deliver,
A betterment of one's best.
It becomes expected,
When a taste is created...
And that taste another accepts.

A rejection of what had been once presented,
Now is refused as mediocrity.
And a closer inspection becomes harsely critiqued.
Critics come out of the woodwork,
To exclaim their findings weak.

And those who plagiarize,
Take credit for their additions done.
But the one who sweats with an innovation...
Never receives a just due that comes!

It is not easy to deliver,
A betterment of one's best.
It becomes expected,
When a taste is created...
And that taste another accepts.

Only to nibble a bit to then spit,
That's it!
As if what is tasted is nothing but garbage.
Especially if a taste of it reminds one of the rest,
That has already bettered the betterment of one's best!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Limitating Foolishness

Those of narrow minds of self centeredness,
Believing they alone can manipulate...
That which has a Supreme Intelligence.
Have based their perceptions...
On a feeding of myths.
A feeding that soon...
Comes to reveal such limitating,
Foolishness!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Is A Leech

A leech feeding,
Could care less off of what it feeds.
It is a leech.
Feeding to satisfy its own need.
To do what it pleases...
Eat to feed itself to then move on.

And anyone observing a leech in action,
Is not going to convince that leech to share.
The awareness of the leech doing that is not there.

A leech feeding,
Could care less off of what it feeds.
It is a leech.
Feeding to satisfy its own need.
To do what it pleases...
Eat to feed itself to then move on.

It is a leech!
Born and taught to exist for what it is!
It is not a care provider.
Or a nourishing vegetable,
Loaded with beneficial vitamins...
Benefiting the mind and physical wellbeing of mankind.
No,
It is not!
It is a leech.

That's it.
Defined by its own circumstances.
And programmed to identify,
What it has to do to survive.
And once it knows what it is,
It is not going to be anything else.
No matter how lengthy the therapy sessions.
Or the sacrifices others make...
When the activities of the leech begins to become outsourced.

A leech is a leech!
Nothing more.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fast Food Plan

Drive up to a window. Buy yourself a meal.
Think before you order. Get the biggest deal.
Eat it while you're driving. Boy does this taste good.
Throw away the wrappers just the way you should.

Back again tomorrow. I'll take a number 2.
Now I've got the combo. This is something new.
Brought a coupon with me. Saved me quite a lot.
Looked into the mirror. My stomach's like a pot.

Lookin' at the menu. Try a healthy meal.
So much salad in it. This is no big deal.
Rather have some fries. The oil's better now.
So why do I feel queasy and bigger than a cow?

Maybe just a milkshake. Nothing else today.
Milk is always healthy. That is what they say.
Good thing it's the weekend.Have some time to cook.
Feeling better already. This is all it took?

Here's the Sunday paper. WOW! Now here's a deal.
Buy 2 get one free plus a Happy Meal.
Back to work tomorrow. Take these coupons too.
This is so much easier. 'Give me a number 2.'

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just How Deep Into A Hole

How can someone plagiarize another,
And lecture on the topic...
Of elements of trust.

Just how deep into a hole,
Does a vanity slither?
How conniving can a deceiver be?

Can a mindlessness attracted,
To an attention wanting to get.
Use the documentation of someone else,
To profess an originality scooped and snooped...
From someone else's investment.

How can someone plagiarize another,
And lecture on the topic...
Of elements of trust.

Just how deep into a hole,
Does a vanity slither?
How conniving can a deceiver be?
Not to realize innovation,
Is not the act of crooks and thieves.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Country Cuisine

Have you ever come across an eating place
That serves outstanding cuisine?
Well, at Fay, Oklahoma we found
An eating place that could serve a Queen

The flavors are absolutely delicious
Just simple ordinary country food
You could even take picky eaters there
You walk in and you are in the mood

To try each and every dish that you see
On the tables and on the menu
Because these folks’ know how to cook
The most wonderful food for you

So if you pass by Fay, Oklahoma, my friend
Want a meal with the best dessert you’ve seen
Stop by and have a taste
Of the most exceptional country cuisine!

poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Worthless and Trifling

Forgers.
Circumventers.
Thieves.
Call them what you will.
Ambassadors of Cut and Paste.
Plagiarists with no taste.
Crooks.
Or folks no one should trust.
They are all over the place...
Doing their best to crush,
Someone else's good luck.

And they will use any scheme,
To demeam from their low self esteem.
And in their haste to do so...
They prove and show themselves to be,
Worthless and trifling human beings.
Who believe their actions,
Are not obviously seen.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Worthy of the Taste

I do not waste time making 'nice'!
I seek to make 'me' better.
Hoping that ingredient alone...
Is worthy of the taste condoned,
Enjoyed and savored!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wasting It On Wishes

Never again will I view my disappointments as man made.
I use to believe my wishes had to meet someone's approval.
Before I could express my happiness.

Now it is so clear...
My happiness has to be expressed.
Whatever the outcome and throughout the process.

How can I rely on someone giving to me,
What inside of me I am not feeding?
Or digesting as that which belongs.

I want what I deserve served to stay.
I've learned to nibble each spice of life I like.
It prolongs the taste.
And wasting it on wishes for someone else...
To define,
Was an awakening I found...
Left me impatiently waiting.
With preferences.

Picked and selected.
For me?
And I had my own menu right in my hands.
All of it prepared to my specifications....
If I noticed?

Finally,
In time I did.
Once I maintained my focus.
And relied on choices I made.
Whether some pleased or not.
And if something I was to eat,
Came to meet my satisfaction...
Indecisiveness of doubts,
Would have to dropp and be stopped.
And finally...
In time,
'They' did!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cooking and taste

eating the same tasteless dinner at the only diner
the umpteenth time, a thought came to my mind
am i a guinea pig or one of its kind
or was there a conspiracy behind

has my taste buds gone out of date
why is all so tasteless, that is the food i ate

i dared to ask the manager why the taste is so bad
bang came a caustic reply, this is by the best cook he ever had
(insinuating a problem not with his cook but with my taste)

well then it has to be my taste buds i thought
directing all my efforts to the food i had bought

then came storming, the savior, inside the hall
in his hand was the same food for which i have taken the fall
indignanlty he shouted at the manager
this food is so bad that even his dog had refused to had

hell i thought even the dog has a better taste
why, why am i such a waste
the dog in me forced me to start cooking that very day
the dog in me does sometimes refuses to eat what i cook
the human in me requests him to hav another look

for, when people are struggling for one square meal a day
how can i keep the food i cooked at bay,
hence i eat, taste or no taste, everything i cook, every day.

poem by Inris Nas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Expected To Deliver

The creating of feeding greed,
Has slowly become the focus...
Of everyone's priority.
And those who have been teased,
With the getting of entitlements...
Are addicted to the taste of it.
And those they select to then elect,
to represent their interests...
Are expected to deliver.
Regardless if the feasting,
Has little to nothing left.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This 'Event' Is Not Customized

If you do not like or enjoy,
What is being offered...
Stop returning to the buffet.
What has been dished,
Is it!
Your complaints,
Are not going to change...
The arrangement of the selections.

If you do not like or enjoy,
What is being offered...
Stop returning to the buffet.
Others have done it,
And have successfully moved on their way.
No one but you,
Has suggested to the cook...
What added ingredient to use,
To sweeten or suit a particular taste.

If what you perceive is not happening for you...
Do not wait to be force fed.
This 'event' is not customized,
For apologies served to render.
Not here!
Today...
Or on tomorrow's menu!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Maybe Your Time Is Missing

If you say you're in it and it doesn't seem to work...
Maybe your time is missing.
If you say it's on your agenda first...
Maybe you need to less rehearse.

Something aint feeding an appetite.
Somebody here tells a lie.
Something aint feeding an appetite.
I smell a lie that's denied.

If you say you're in it and it doesn't seem to work...
Maybe your time is missing.
If you say it's on your agenda first...
Maybe you need to less rehearse.

Why can't you be honest and tell the truth?
I smell a lie that's denied.
You must take me as someone who's a fool?
I smell a lie that's denied.

Something aint feeding an appetite.
Somebody here tells a lie.
Something aint feeding an appetite.
I smell a lie that's denied.

If you say you're in it and it doesn't seem to work...
Maybe your time is missing.
If you say it's on your agenda first...
Maybe you need to less rehearse.

Something aint feeding an appetite.
Somebody here tells a lie.
Something aint feeding an appetite.
I smell a lie that's denied.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Soft Refrain

Turn you head a little, and glance briefly at the rain,
Watch it creeping down that clear glass windowpane.
Making a rhythmic tapping sound, it's such a soft refrain,
Thrown there by a wind whose temper, we cannot contain.

Clouds of grey release their weighty contents from the sky,
Feeding plants that on the ground, I'm pretty sure would die
Without the refreshing water. Trees like the tall green leylandii
Would shrivel up. We must also consider the fragile butterfly.

Although we moan each time we are bombarded by a shower,
We need to think of all it saves, even one simple flower.
It holds within its droplets numerous minerals of such power,
Continually feeding this dry, parched earth, hour after hour.

Let us appreciate the wonders which nature doth bestow,
Keeping our land a pleasant place for everything to grow.

poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Table of Contents

Quick like a flash those reactions,
When a feeding on one's table of contents...
Is rumored to be shared with those less fortunate.
Those whose resources have provided the feast.
And that feast is threatened to become decreased,
By those who gorge themselves,
In an exclusive frenzied treat!

Quick like a flash those reactions,
When a feeding on one's table of contents...
Is said to be spent at someone else's expense.
Those depicted as pitiful creatures.
Those who others deceive and leech.

So a gathering of those to impose their selfishness...
To ensure their interests aren't deprived of nourishment.
Leaving leftovers for the hungery to fight over.
Although deny they discharge a disgraceful decadence.
A decadence they say,
From them did not originate or create to stay!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Pancake Parlor

The pancake parlor is a great place to meet,
Where you can enjoy, your favorite meal you want to eat;
Go anytime of the day, they're open right thru, till 1am its true,
And such great service, and pleasant, to me and to you.

They've got a menu, at a reasonable price, to afford,
And you're not kept waiting to keep you so bored;
The seating is comfortable, so you won't be sore,
And as I said the price is okay, won't leave you poor.

Try the great menu, with entree', main course and sweet,
From steak to fries, pancakes with the lot, is a treat;
Salads of every kind, with dressings, make it complete,
Then icecream sundaes, or fruit salad as a sweet.

Yes! Go to the parlor the next meal you eat out,
Take your friends and tell them you'll shout;
A lovely drink, of iced lemon or orange tea,
Maybe something hot, like chocolate, with your tea.

Thanks all you staff, at the pancake parlor, your great,
To cheer up the lonely, when they have no mate;
And you will find, to go there you don't need to explain,
Why you chose to eat there, your privacy with you will remain.

poem by Margaret Haig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Drugged In a Self Love

Change the title.
Leave the content unfulfilling.
Call yourself brilliant.
Applaud.
Develop your own audience.
And as long as you keep your taste,
To keep a redundancy in place.
You will always enjoy the sounds of your own clapping.
Feeling what you have done,
Deserves an ovation.
It's the stagnation of what you present,
That has you drugged in a self love...
Too obvious it goes unshared.
But then again...
What is done is based upon whims.
And not with depth reflected.
You have just but a surface...
Thinned by lack of purpose!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Sister

Hey little sister
I heard you went to Mr. So and So
Knock knock knocking on his door again last night
You said you needed it bad
And You know that ain't right
Cuz so many times you've come to me
Cry crying
You said it hurt so bad
But please don't let you go back for more

My little sister is a zombie in a body
With no soul or role
She has learned to play
In a world today where nothing else matters
But it matters
We gotta start feeding our souls
Not our addictions or afflictions to pain
To avoid the same questions we must ask ourselves
To get any answers

We gotta start feeding our souls
Have been lost to the millions with lots
We feed on addictions
Sellings pills and what's hot
And I wish I could save her
From all their delusions
We gotta start feeding our souls
All the confusion
Of a nation that's starving for salvation
But clothing is the closest approximation to God
And he only knows that drugs are
All we know of love
Hey hey

Every day we starve
While we eat white bread and beer
And instead of a handshake of hug
We spill the pills
And sweep them under the rug
Hey ey

My little sister is a zombie in a body
With no soul or role
She has learned to play
In a world today
Where nothing else matters
But it matters
We gotta start feeding our souls

Hey little sister I heard you went to
Mr. So and So again last night
Said you needed more

song performed by by Jewel from Pieces Of You
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh Those Cookies Made

You hooked me with your looks,
And also cooking, 'bay-bee'.
Your speciality is baking sugar cookies, 'bay-bee'.
And a tasting of your cookies,
Is my favorite crave...
I rush to get to savor.
Because the flavor makes them great...
I've lost my patience to wait.

Oh your cookies made,
Are the best I've ever savored.
Yes your cookies made.
Is a taste that can't get better.
Oh...
Those cookies made,
Are fun to munch in any weather.
Yes,
Those cookies made.
Your cookies made.

Oh...
Oh your cookies made,
Are the best I've ever savored.
Yes your cookies made.
Is a taste that can't get better.
Oh...
Oh those cookies made,
Are fun to munch in any weather.
Yes,
Those cookies made.
Your cookies made.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Non-Fictionalized

They are looking for volume.
Something to validate...
What I've known since the age of eight.
And...
I appreciate volume.
If it doesn't carry the same aftertaste.
And gives me vivid variety of assorted flavor.

They are looking to uncover style and content.
And I deliver that with my own approach to facts.
All as 'is' with original innovation.
I'm in the midst of creating history.
Yes I am,
Aware of that.

And...
They are looking for escapades based upon fiction.

And I,
Well...
I seek longevity.
There is something about it that appeals to me.
The non-fictionalized kind!
One that will always be,
Timelessly up in somebody's face.
With the making of fresh declarations.
And never outdated.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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