Rhythmic Sedations
Rhythmic sedations,
Have them seduced...
And captivated by stagnation.
Assigned to sterotypes,
They struggle and fight to maintain.
Behind masks that traps them,
Defining entrapments...
Loved and keeping them blind.
They do not find themselves behind the times.
Dysfunctions produced have induced,
Recycled motivations to feed only the taste...
Of a thumping bass.
And trained they are to accept chasing their tails,
Like dogs.
Believing a progress is being made...
With new instruments to supply updated beats.
To each ritualistic hymnal sung!
Effective to entertain and sustain inactivity to praise.
Rehearsed each day...
For dynamic Sunday performances.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Subjected to Listening
To convey an absence of knowledge,
Of hardships and dysfunctions...
To not have them focused upon,
As is wished.
Is commendable.
In fact...
These award winning performances given,
Are daily witnessed.
'To belabor my steps will not ease my journey.
And it continues.
Each blessing I accept as I move forward.
And today I find myself subjected to listening.
While others may reject the notion of devotion...
Commitment and the positive aspects of patience,
Growth and change...
I find myself subjected to listening!
And it was stubbornness in my past...
That has helped me with today's gains.
I find myself subjected to listening!
And that has helped me to maintain.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Madcowed At The Ranch
The most effective degradation to come along,
To affect the current human condition...
And state of mind,
Has occurred within the past eight years!
And there are those cheering statements of progress...
With encouragement this stance should maintain its course.
And sustain this disasterous direction for another hundred?
To protect a way of life,
Those on foreign lands already control and manipulate...
Without seasoned propaganda!
Had they too been madcowed at the ranch?
Between bar-b-que...
And miscued speeches given?
Had they too been madcowed at the ranch?
Unknowing there is little chance in hell...
To keep an icecube bristling a cool taste,
For a Long Island Tea that sits in one hundred degree heat!
And yet...
That too is promised!
Had they too been madcowed at the ranch,
Believing what is happening is to regain their pride...
In limelight fading in smokened mesquite!
And the only ones dealing with the facts as concerns,
Are those off camera,
Using every hose they can find...
To douse the raging flames,
Dancing on the roof of the ranch!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Staying Swift On My Feet Keeps Me Peaceful
You snooze you lose,
That's it.
I'm no longer in the business,
In keeping you updated...
As to what occurs,
In front of your doorstep.
I've had to break away from that habit,
That addicted you...
To select which objections,
You preferred to accept.
When you allowed them to happen.
And I annoyed you as you slept!
Oh no...
Some things in my life,
I just had to let go!
You snooze you lose,
That's it.
I'm no longer in the business,
In keeping you updated...
As to what occurs,
In front of your doorstep.
And too tired have I become,
From excusing myself through it...
When from you I would leave.
Only to return.
To find you still unaware and fast asleep.
And getting disrespect,
Coming at me from both ends...
I could no longer justify.
You can close your eyes and keep them closed,
For all I care.
Today I don't have those concerns.
You snooze you lose,
That's it.
I'm no longer in the business,
In keeping you updated...
As to what occurs,
In front of your doorstep.
I have learned,
Staying swift on my feet keeps me peaceful.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Oj
Even though he was loved,
And some find him still charming.
There is something about him,
Many find alarming.
Is he to be admired?
Or locked away as a jerk?
He reflects everything we are!
We worship false idols...
And praise jocks as superstars!
We support dysfunctions,
With the backing of Wall Street.
And attention is focused on OJ's movements...
Increasing his stature,
As done with crooked priests.
To say we live in unbelievable times...
Just look around and it will be easy to find,
Insanity is idolized!
And those left 'sane' are suspect of crimes!
That's not to say OJ is in 'his' right mind!
He is part of who 'we' are...
Should we all be in straitjackets?
And leave a blind justice behind?
Since all of us are being duped,
By the absence of truth and honesty...
That has long been confined?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Deserving Of Thunderous Applause
In the light shining as brightly,
As man made wattage can create...
On every aspect of life uncovered these days,
There are those still deluded with beliefs...
They can do absolutely what they please.
And not be detected.
With a disregarding of flashing warning signs.
Dead end fences placed in front of paveless roads.
And limping victims bandaged from head to toe.
There are those choosing to stubbornly resist this,
With or without the validation of 'rumors'...
To remove these proven barriers.
And...
Will later admit to anyone who will listens,
How they wished that had made other decisions...
That would not only relieved them from misery and regret.
But would have also eliminated their need to find reasons,
To blame someone else...
For the feeling of their discomforts.
These performances heard more and more each day,
Are deserving of thunderous applause...
From those touched and emotionally moved,
By some the best dramatic acting found anywhere...
Although rehearsed,
But not produced for stage or film to be repeatedly witnessed.
'The tears!
The trembling of the lips.
Your slow downcasting of the eyes...
To become affixed as if saddened?
Simply incredible!
Magnificent.
One of the most brilliant performances I have 'ever' seen.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Accept For Those Who They Owe
In a world getting more socially global,
They find their values and standards
Over rated and outdated.
Their isolationistic point of view,
No longer supports their dependency on exports.
And no where is anyone importing their arrogance.
Today more people view them,
With pity than with praise.
Like a child once tolerated...
But time has aged those days.
Even slowly they can not be awakened...
From a deep induced sleep.
To see themselves.
In every aspect of their daily lives...
They are delusional and entertain fantasies.
And those who speak of truth and reality...
Are slandered and despised.
Their way of life does not exist anymore.
Not to those with opened wide eyes.
And they can not see themselves as powerless to this.
They can not see themselves,
No longer number one.
No longer the one kept loved and special...
OR prioritized,
On anyone's list.
Accept for those who they owe!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I keep no dogs.
He keeps dogs and feed them.
As he wants them to wag.
He loves them for his sway
On them to make them bark.
I keep no dogs to feed.
I don’t need them to wag.
I don’t need them to bark either.
Must I be worse than one keeping dogs?
12.10.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Tests To Teach Those Reaching For Light
Recycled racism...
Does not do a thing to lift,
Anyone out of this intentional darkness.
With insecure criticisms,
Of those feeling a deliverance
To have all see them as other than misfit!
It only confirms,
A shallowed ignorance...
Kept medicated on illusions,
That a way of life isolated...
Is envied!
But by whom?
Preserving stagnation,
Rots those who die from inside.
With mindsets that feed their own genocide!
Although their acts to produce perfection...
Keeps them divinely blind!
In beliefs...
It is 'they' and not God who rules,
And keeps them lost...and yet, alive!
As tests to teach those reaching for light.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nibbled and Leeched
Many more will make public announcements,
That their deceits kept discreet...
Are no longer secret.
And on decline.
They now find themselves unneeded.
And forced to leave these deceptions behind.
Shocked by their proclamations,
Followers of theirs start to whine.
Since the days for corruption and crime decreases.
Such loyal servitude has produced enough,
Of an effective requirement for the adequate loss of minds!
The ones who struggle to maintain their grip!
But slipping quick,
From this nibbled and leeched lifeline...
Taken for granted!
Leap.
And those of hateful speech,
Release into a fading screech!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Life Is An Adventure
Life is an adventure,
Made for an adventurer.
Made just for the boy who can,
Grow up strong and become a man.
Nothing will bother you,
You will do what you want to.
Laughes and loves and hopes and dreams,
Action will supply the means.
Living for something.
Foregiving nothing,
And youre forgiving, nothing,
Cause youre living for something.
Fast is fast, the sacred cow.
Life is in the here and now.
Got to dream and got to hope.
Broaden your horizon scope.
I told you once and I told you twice,
Japanese eat lots of rice.
You can be my assistant.
It could be to you detriment.
Ah were believing something.
Conceiving a great wealth.
Conceiving nothing
Believing in myself
Believing in myself
Life is an adventure,
Made for an adventurer.
Made just for the boy who can,
Grow up strong and become a man.
La, la, la, ...
Gordon gano: vocals, guitar
Brian ritchie: acoustic bass guitar, vocals, organ
Guy hoffman: drums, vocals
Bob jennings: tenor and baritone sax, horn arrangement
Pat basler: alto sax
Ed spangenberg: trombone
Produced by brian ritchie and gordon gano
Recorded and mixed by david vartanian at dvs perversion room, milwaukee, wi
gorno music reprinted with permission
song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Few and Far Between
Preferring subservience,
Over self determination...
Feeds those begging,
To be seen with appetites...
Under spotlight.
Telling tales of struggles.
For a fee paid!
During the short celebrated days,
Of Black History Month.
An enhancement done,
Of an identity with committment...
Ignoring and resisting resentment,
Takes self assurance.
And a freedom felt...
No one can deny,
By the raising of an eyebrow.
Feared by those wishing to please,
And entertain as appointed.
Commissioned to deliver,
Minutes of guilt freeing reflections.
But those who are aware and know themselves,
With minds untethered or locked in chains...
Pierce through empty promises,
To be acknowledge when these attractions dim.
Goldleaf wishes to adorn 'wings'
In a glorified afterlife with a halo glowed...
May be in the eyes of those,
Hoping to gain favor.
However...
Those who do not 'trip' like this.
And not conflicted as to who they are...
Are few,
And far...
Between!
Those who are aware and know themselves...
Do not need these scenes,
To manifest their ambitions to reach for greatness,
Beyond the limits of staged sterotypes.
OR delight in such paid performances...
To then select from donated boxed meals.
'If you are going to feed me 'anything'...
Feed me your respect! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Through My Ardent Prayers
With a discipline kept in practice.
And assisted through my ardent prayers.
I am there within a mental seclusion.
I am there aware and devoted...
Feeling blessed each day!
Although I am tested to accept,
And manifest delusions.
My best is tempted to slide at times.
When my mind becomes bombarded,
With teases I taste.
Most times easy to find.
I admit it can be difficult,
To break away from my human lusts.
But a faith I maintain...
To help me refrain from such temptations.
And I grow to trust,
That I can and must endure.
As long as I know my quest made is pure...
From doubt and confusion,
Induced with desires I can refuse to embrace.
I can face darkened shadows.
And replace the clouds with Sun to shine.
It is through my ardent prayers,
I dare to strengthen on my journey.
In a haste not wasted on yearnings...
To undo mistakes I can make sometimes.
But learn I do with each step I take,
I can choose whatever it is I wish.
And I wish to be free to be me...
Unafraid,
To expose my imperfections.
Or show I can heal,
From blemishes revealed.
It is through my ardent prayers,
I dare to strengthen on my journey.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Continuance of a Nonexistence
They spend the hours of each day,
In attempts...
To rejuvenate those times spent,
And gone.
Old songs played from school days,
Keep them reminded...
In a refined stagnation kept.
Fresh.
And unchanged.
Stuck in yesterday.
And not going to give it up...
Anytime soon!
Leaving what has been produced,
To accept tomorrow...
On a fast paced chase for them,
Who seek schedules to keep.
With times speeding ahead.
Without one hint of hesitation.
Regardless of who celebrates...
The continuance of a nonexistence,
Leaping away from many minds.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Music Of Life
Interested in the peace of life?
Your destination is fixed so be appalled.
Musical instruments are in ruins,
Fighting them is a struggle.
What may break will fight and be mighty,
The swords of laughter fence with each other.
They are made of metals, fully metallic
And magical, like their counterparts.
The peace has dissolved when mixed
With the words of music and its instruments.
poem by Naveed Akram
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~ PSYCHOSOMATIC FURNITURE ~ RECYCLING ~ RECYCLING ~ [New Year Bouquet ~ niv]
~ PSYCHOSOMATIC FURNITURE ~ RECYCLING ~ [New Year Bouquet ~ niv]
Ms. Nivedita
UK
30 December,2009.
Our bodies are
Recycled five Primordial Elements.
Our Microcosms are
Recycled fragments of Macrocosm.
Our body humors are
Recycled ‘Original Sap’
Our breaths are
Recycled zephyrs.
Our phonations are
Recycled Archie Euphony OM.
Our beauties are
Recycled fineries of mind.
Our colors are
Recycled VIBGYOR.
Our thoughts are
Recycled informations.
Our emotions are
Recycled imaginations.
Our actions are
Recycled inclinations.
Our knowledges are
Recycled reflective ‘Wisdom’.
Our hates are
Recycled self devaluations.
Our loves are
Recycled ‘Supreme Love’.
Our beneficences are
Recycled Sattva Gunas’.
Our energies are
Recycled ‘Omni Energy’.
Our workholisms are
Recycled ‘Rajas Gunas’.
Our sorrows are
Recycled ungratifications.
Our egotisms are
Recycled myopic self.
Our greeds are
Recycled void feelings.
Our fury and funks are
Recycled ‘Tamas Gunas’.
Our raptures are
Recycled spark of ‘Bliss’.
Our rebirths are.
Recycling of ‘Jiva-Atmans’.
Our ‘Jiva-Atmans’ are
Recycled minuscule of ‘Param Atman’.
All our recyclings are
Recycled obliviousness of
Our innate ‘Scendlessness’.
Glossary:
OM: The basis of all sounds, universal ‘symbol-word’ for God. -Veda
Gunas: Three attributes of Nature
Sattva: Expansion, Intelligence, Wisdom.
Rajas: Activity, Energy, Struggle.
Tamas: Obstruction, Mass, Ignorance, Inertia.
Atman: The Divine within the self.
Param Atman: Suprememe ‘Self’, All Highest, Secondless.
Jiva-Atmans: Supreme ‘Self’ in miniscule ‘self’.
poem by Ms. Nivedita Bagchi Spc. Uk.
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Going Through The Motions
An existence recycled.
An unknown is feared.
Possibilities are debated.
Leaving a stagnation so clear.
Opportunities for change...
Never occur with chances to begin!
Things stay the way they are,
Going through the motions...
With a devotion,
To a growth of nothingness...
That seems not to end.
Finding a comfort in it!
And keeping pretentions real,
To attend!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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(The) Depthness of This Kind of Introspect...
There are many poems I've written,
That have not been read or 'rated'.
I can understand,
How some may find that a need...
When insecurity most writers feed.
And there are those gregarious folks,
Enjoying their closeness.
Who do prefer their own company.
Or socialize with those expressing...
How they maintain a degree of 'normalcy'.
While all find themselves accepting...
Dysfunctions none regret.
And I find myself more respected,
By those who know...
With an acknowledgement familiar.
That does not criticize or demean,
The depthness of this kind of introspect...
With an intellect encouraged and shared,
And freely felt to expose upon these scenes...
With those who are unopposed to show their caring.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Brink Of Extinction
Creating with a solicitation,
A lazy and undisciplined existence.
To identify a segment of one's population,
As dysfunctional.
May for those responsible,
In the implementation of this...
Boost egos.
But cost effective?
No!
Only fools feeding an isolated greed,
Would keep this as their belief.
Only a complete ignorance,
Would perceive this approach...
To be an effective reflection of greatness.
Those assigned to oppress minds,
From the time of their birth...
Would find this uplifting to their self worth.
And not an encouragement nourishing,
One to the brink of extinction.
Those assigned to oppress minds,
Of those threatening their insecurities...
Eventually will find this point of view of superiority,
A mentally degrading aspect...
Of their own growth process and not an asset.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Gone Are Their Treasures
From which one of your stale placements,
Do you believe you can rate...
My taste for staying updated?
No powdered wigged out judgements,
Of colonialistic restricted mentalists...
On the pursuit of political correctness,
Can exam with blinded minds...
These times that now exist!
Gone are their treasures.
And documented claims made in print!
Pomp and circumstance pulchritudes...
Appear rather silly!
And exposes their foolishness.
With a laughable return of such seriousness.
That should be burned and left in dusting urns!
From which one of your stale placements,
Do you believe you can rate...
My taste for staying updated?
With methods to attempt,
To make your nonsense permanent.
And there is evidence everywhere...
Your beliefs are vanishing in thin air!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In These Days and Times
It is easy to discredit
Those who have made names for themselves.
Despite the backbiting and the envy concealed by some.
Something childish we 'might' have all once done!
Than it is to maintain an ego...
Full of self and free of reflection,
To detect corrections an introspection makes.
It takes a determined stamina...
Freed of grandeur and awe,
To administer an encouragement.
That is left behind to instill a nourishment!
If this message is not sent,
As it is meant to flourish those...
With less influence they can impose.
Then those who find their fame have no lasting value...
Have used their gifts for naught.
And producing these deeds to feed such an ego,
Has not induced minds...
Needing to be fed enlightenment,
In these days and times!
A selfishness to hoard such talents and gifts...
Leave with the ones they came with.
And nothing of subsistence considered substance,
Can be passed to nurture that is left behind!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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