Resting Unprotested and In Crevices Ready to Molest
No one pays attention,
With intent to comprehend.
Too few do!
Others are quickly bored.
And easy to offend.
The only ones who do listen...
Are those who are dismissed,
And disbelieved.
They are mostly slandered and repeatedly...
Asked to leave.
When too much truth is spoken by them...
This brings a disgust upon those in opposition.
Refusing they do to hear with ears accustomed,
To receiving messages sweetened with deceit.
Even though what is said...
Leaks with a seepage that creeps and slithers!
And threatening in appearance...
That blinds denials they keep.
Resting unprotested,
And in crevices ready to molest.
Upon their urban and suburban streets.
Preying like vultures they are focused and spy...
Deciding whom to consume.
And who's dignity is set to digest!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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But...What About The Facts?
What is more tragic?
The keeping of denials defended.
Or the results of keeping them,
To have them repeatedly excused to offend...
Those refusing to face truth as often as possible.
Even with evidence proven to be untainted.
Or manipulated to question.
'Yeah,
But...
What about the facts?
No one has yet to step forward,
To admit the details of them...
Ever to have been found,
To submit to refute that truth! '
I am thoroughly confused.
What is it that you wish to have resolved?
'My doubts.
And why it is I still have them.'
The issue you have with doubt,
Has nothing to do with truth.
And that...
Is a fact of a life YOU have chosen to live.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Doing What It Takes To Feel One's Best
Doing what it takes to feel one's best,
Is 'not' something one adopts to do...
To get the attention.
Misconceptions about that are taught to those,
To leave them feeling insecure to be left exposed.
And psychologically dependent on others.
Those who are seeking the attention,
Are the ones making the excuses...
For everything done they do,
To avoid doing that which they should.
Fearing then no one would notice them at all.
And for them to be noticed is what is sought.
Leave them alone to figure themselves out,
And they wouldn't know what to do 'with' clues.
Especially if no one is there to listen,
To their opinions given or their version of life...
Yet for them to live.
But they'll try to convince others they know about.
Doing what it takes to feel one's best,
Is 'not' something one adopts to do to get the attention.
Doing what it takes to feel one's best,
Is something one does to comprehend.
And many not comprehending,
Can also be viewed amongst those refusing to listen.
Only a life lived to be one's best,
Is often a life lived making fewer excuses.
With less complaints heard,
To create and produce to seduce someone else...
For whatever the reason found around,
To digest.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Whose Truth Is Reality?
Whose truth is reality?
And why are the many eyes focused upon it,
Seeing reality quite differently?
With many refusing,
To believe in any of it at all.
It is odd how those say they do know God exist.
With bragging rights about their religious affiliations.
But ask one of them,
When was it they stepped out of their way...
Based solely on their faith?
Do you get a look in return that offends?
Or...
Do you get a sermon to hear,
With scriptures quoted...
To make their beliefs understood.
And for some reason...
Their carrying a Bible should make that clear?
And that question you had asked,
Goes unanswered.
As an excuse is made,
To leave from your presence...
As fast as they came.
And under their breath you are called a name.
People are not up to that task.
Disguising 'your' reality...
They prefer to hide,
Behind 'their' masks!
Whose truth is reality?
Really?
And why are the many eyes focused upon it,
Seeing reality quite differently?
With many refusing,
To believe in any of it at all.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No Mystery Is There
No mystery is there,
When God pays a visit.
Prayers are answered...
For those devoted,
And with faith believe.
The ones who go through the motions...
Are not completely freed.
Doubts scatter about in their minds.
With images perceived.
Messages they get...
Are often discredited and thrown away.
And still they pray to be relieved...
Of miseries carried and/or adorned,
On their sleeves.
And a presence God selects,
To ensure to those faithful...
He is, indeed, near.
Those of conflicting hypocrisies,
Choose not to silence their lips.
Yet quick to close their ears.
No mystery is there,
When God pays a visit.
Prayers are answered...
For those devoted,
And with faith believe.
'Those can not be,
The messages for 'me' to receive.
They come across too intellectual.
And a feeling of suspicion...
Wishes inside of me for them to leave.'
~And you are more familiar with nonsense?
With an acceptance of that and deceit? ~
'No,
I'm not saying that at all.
If God were to contact me...
I would know it in His manner of 'speech'.
Which I 'perceive' is more down to Earth,
Than what I've heard falsely spoken to me.'
~So,
In other words...
You are a selective listener? ~
'I'm just saying...
I know the voice of God when I hear it.
And so far,
The only voices that I've heard,
Are from those folks who think they know me.
They don't know me to tell me what I should do! '
~So why do you pray? ~
'To get answers from God,
Of course.
What a stupid question! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No Bits Of Candy
No bits of candy do I have to hand out.
Or other pieces of sweetened treats.
I've come to share observations not ignore them.
With a truth I welcome.
Not versions of dishonesty,
To satisfy those more accustomed to deceit.
With a wish of more of it to feed and feast,
Without a noticing the cupboards are getting bare.
And the reality of 'needs' must be faced.
Whether you pay attention to me or not.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fake An Amnesia
When a truth spoken,
Reveals overwhelming opposition...
There 'is' an alternative one can take.
Keep a truth known protected,
Not to be exposed,
In places where delusion is the main event.
And celebrated on a regular basis.
It pays first for one to be observant,
To that which is highly regarded.
No matter what temptations present themselves,
To tease with a going against the grain...
Of what is accepted and cherished as tradition.
When a truth spoken,
Reveals overwhelming opposition...
There 'is' an alternative one can take.
Fake an amnesia!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Of Those Who Do Speak The Truth
The amazing and wonderful thing about truth,
And its use is this...
Those familiar and accustomed with the telling of it,
Are often the ones disbelieved.
Very few are open and direct like that.
To leave those dishonest suspicious.
And the ones looking for dirt to uncover,
Of those who do speak the truth...
Find themselves digging deeper holes,
To expose their own deceits and ways they've cheated...
They can not climb out of the mud and slime they've created,
To enable those observing them...
Complaining as they confess of committing their own sins.
Even in the pouring rain people like this smell.
'Excuse me...
What is that you're wearing?
I've notice the people here,
Have picked that as their favorite scent.
What is it? '
~Stench.~
The amazing and wonderful thing about truth,
And its use is this...
Those familiar and accustomed with the telling of it,
Are often the ones disbelieved.
And yet...
Those who are honest with themselves,
Have no problem revealing their own dirt first.
And if you do know anyone who does speak with truth,
Do you ever think of them as being negative?
Many do.
And why is that?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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From A Faked Surface
My love is complete!
I do not offer pieces of it to please.
What is felt is spoken.
And the affect of it given,
Is not my purpose or intent...
To disrespect or offend.
And...
If my love is received that way,
What I am given in return...
Has to be crumbs conveniently scraped,
From a faked surface.
To be eventually dismissed.
My love is complete!
I do not offer pieces of it to please.
If that is what you are accustomed to doing...
You will not know true love with me.
When I give it,
It is with all that I have...
Blemishes, flaws and regrettable moods.
To correct...
But never to hide.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Games That We Play
Far too quickly we are bored
when some people try to draw attention
in the games that we daily play.
Far too quickly we are bored
and divided among ourselves
by every gossiper.
Far too quickly we are bored
when some people try to draw attention.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Digestive Darkness And Light
life is a mixture of light, darkness and truth
but are you digested on them?
digest what you see
digest what you feel
digest what you smell
digest what you touch
digest what you eat
digest what you think
digest what you speak
and you will be a truth by yoursekf
but but but but but but but but but
NEVER DIGEST YOUR DREAM
A Reluctance To Comprehend Basic Concepts
To express ignorance these days,
Is not suggested...
For someone equipped with common sense,
And accessible intelligence.
The kind expressed and understood.
Anyone focused on speaking above one's head,
Has already shown a reluctance to comprehend...
Basic concepts.
And that is revealed the moment their mouths open,
With the first word spoken to impress.
And the words that follow next,
Are remarkably more hollow.
With nothing to digest from the emptiness.
And disconnected is the mind from the lips.
As observed by anyone's eyes consciously witnessing this.
To express ignorance these days,
Is not suggested...
For someone equipped with common sense,
And accessible intelligence.
The kind expressed and understood.
But then again...
To do this and not offend.
And be able to fit in without attracting attention,
Is a gift that comes with unlimited potential!
And one that is given with blessings,
That amazingly goes unnoticed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Had Once Been Delivered to Others As Given
If given a voice attention to listen...
Ears open with silent lips,
May hear with an understanding...
That which has eclipsed,
Comprehension quickly dismissed.
If a choice to delay information,
That comes.
The message to be delivered,
May not produce the right outcome...
For some expecting more.
And a continued conflict sits within those minds.
Sitting with a grasping restlessness,
To express time after time...
They have found themselves outdone.
Wishing empathy to be shown by 'anyone'.
Although not introspective in self inspection moods.
To perceive what has been received,
Had once been delivered to others as given!
With much thoughtlessness...
Dumped upon them to leave,
To brood in solitude.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If You Don't From Them Leave!
When mouths are open and ears are closed...
Walk away from this.
Do not hesitate,
As if waiting for this to change.
Walk away from this.
People have been conditioned and trained,
Not to hear or further listen.
Pieces of what they miss is impatiently dismissed
Walk away from this.
When mouths are open and ears are closed...
People will choose ignorance to expose.
Since they have been conditioned to not listen.
And folks convinced like these...
Will bring you to your knees,
If you don't from them decide you should leave!
If you don't from them leave! ,
You're doomed to grieve.
Minds like these are locked without a key.
Walk away from this.
People have been conditioned and trained,
Not to hear or further listen.
Pieces of what they miss is impatiently dismissed
Walk away from this.
Before your life becomes a misery.
And choose to move and do it instantly.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Before They Chopped Them Down to Fall
Everyday it appears,
More people are going out of their way...
To reveal their insecurities,
By accusing a spoken truth!
That upsets their narrowed comprehensions.
And gossip and innuendos...
With character assassinations are then pursued.
And a practiced backstabbing,
To undo those of honesty too...
Is what people like this in privacy choose to do.
And not caring at all...
To see the forest for the trees,
Before they chopped them down to fall.
On themselves with bruises to leave.
This is reflected and seen in their environments.
How the loss of discreeted corruption...
Has been exposed to local residents.
Many express disbelief and can not comprehend this.
So accustomed they've been,
To being deceived...
By family members and their own friends.
Just for a few more dollars in their pockets to spend.
At the expense of betrayal and acts of treason,
Foolishly in an excitement that could not wait to begin.
But this has been the life,
People have chosen to achieve and succeed.
Whether this had been wrong or right...
Not too many perceived,
The ones eventually performing their own bleeding...
Would be from their own hands,
To bite and cut off their needs that kept them feeding.
With blinded addictions focused on greed.
That's what gluttony does to people like these.
Everyday it appears,
More people are going out of their way...
To reveal their insecurities,
By accusing a spoken truth!
That upsets their narrowed comprehensions.
And gossip and innuendos...
With character assassinations are then pursued.
And a practiced backstabbing,
To undo those of honesty too...
Is what people like this in privacy choose to do.
And not caring at all...
To see the forest for the trees,
Before they chopped them down to fall.
On everything they claimed valued,
To have had worth.
And...
An ignorance initially refusing to listen,
Becomes installed...
Upon all,
Of self righteous deeds.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When It Benefits To Pay Attention
I can quickly forgive and understand a child,
Who takes an escapade with a making a mistake...
At my expense.
I expect this from a child adventuring,
Out into the world to establish for themselves...
A building of their own common sense.
This I accept and expect.
With a patience in the beginning given.
And hoping in their minds something eventually connects.
However...
With the giving of circumstances and considering one's age,
There are stages of life when it benefits to pay attention.
And if one continues to disrespect others to neglect,
Difficult it becomes for me to repeatedly forgive and forget.
Especially when a doing is done,
Over and over and over by someone...
Who cruises through life making the same mistakes,
With new excuses easy to use refusing to face truth.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Beat Down Those Creeps Found
Beat down,
The creeps found.
Sleazing in discreet,
With misdeeds they release.
Beat down,
The creeps found...
Sneaking as they 'peep' who to feed defeat.
Ripping up the streets with their brand of deceit.
Beat down,
The creeps found.
Sleazing in discreet,
With misdeeds they release.
Beat down,
The creeps found...
Sneaking as they 'peep' who to feed defeat.
Ripping up the streets with their brand of deceit.
Get to caring.
And sharing.
With those you held close.
And love the most.
With forgiving that can come...
And forgetting what was done!
When they weren't the only ones...
Lieing on the run!
Get to caring.
And sharing.
Don't wait to repay...
A 'shade' somebody gave to you,
That you should let fade away!
Beat down,
The creeps found.
Sleazing in discreet,
With misdeeds they release.
Beat down,
The creeps found...
Sneaking as they 'peep' who to feed defeat.
Ripping up the streets with their brand of deceit.
Forgive and forget what was done,
When they weren't the only ones lieing on the run!
Or sleazing in discreet with misdeeds they release!
You don't have to be like that to whoever you meet.
Beat down,
The creeps found.
Sleazing in discreet,
With misdeeds they release.
Beat down,
The creeps found...
Sneaking as they 'peep' who to feed defeat.
Ripping up the streets with their brand of deceit.
Beat down the creeps found.
Oh oh...
Beat down those creeps found.
Oh oh...
Beat down the creeps found.
Oh oh...
Beat down those creeps found.
Beat down those creeps found.
Beat down those creeps found.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Giving The Attention
If someone finds they are reminding another,
Repeatedly...
Of a disrespect shown and done,
Maybe another approach would be...
Is to not be the one repeatedly,
Giving the attention to remind them.
Sometimes absence delivers a message.
But then again,
Some are so accustomed to being disrespectful...
It has to be part of their D.N.A.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Running Away From A Self Evaluation
Listen closely to those,
Who repeatedly accuse others...
For attacking them for no reason.
Or preventing their movement,
In any direction.
Or the showing of a concern,
To them not returned.
Listen and learn intently,
From those who feed doses of nonsense.
And eventually you will surmise,
Someone who has grown accustomed...
To a running away from a self evaluation.
And will use deceit and lies,
At the expense of anyone giving to them empathy!
When it is psychotherapy that is needed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nibbling On Crushed Hearts
Time spent in the hushing of dissidence,
Has not gained in their influence.
Nor has the sweetened taste of the flavor...
Forced upon the tongues of those misguided,
To tell yet more versions of diversified lies...
Or how to describe,
What to expect when the after affects take effect.
Nibbling on crushed hearts,
To munch with a sipping of deceit...
Stalks the catwalks of fashion.
And since it is Spring,
The Fall lineup being introduce to seduce...
Updates the look of coming attractions,
To entice an acceptance of more pain with treated traps.
Nibbling on crushed hearts,
To munch with a sipping of deceit...
Stalks the catwalks of fashion.
For a cheap duplication copied to apply,
As quickly as possible on urban streets...
Where a napping from reality has been complete.
Time spent in the hushing of dissidence,
Has not gained in their influence.
Nor has the sweetened taste of the flavor...
Forced upon the tongues of those misguided,
To tell yet more versions of diversified lies...
Or how to describe,
What to expect when the after affects take effect.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Expecting the Best
Once it has been decided,
My comments written are ready...
For public scrutiny.
I've already committed myself to content.
But excited?
Not as much as one might perceive.
I am as protective as a parent.
Wanting to shield what my child hears.
Knowing there will be criticsms freely given.
But feelings critiqued.
Never leave to disappear.
And difficult it is to correct,
What has been addressed and expressed.
Once it has been decided,
Comments written are made ready...
For public scrutiny?
I hold my breath.
Expecting the best.
Hoping my 'child' will not become offended.
But listen!
And become challenged to digest,
First.
With comprehension.
And not reflect...
What has been spoken.
And not to get upset or heartbroken.
It isn't easy,
Being devoted to missions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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