Seeking To Avenge Themselves
Digging deep are many seeking,
To avenge themselves...
And others wronging judged.
Today's conflicts,
Have more to do with infighting.
Than any addmission,
About reported threats coming...
From concentrationplace upon terrorists.
And those behind it defend themselves,
With senseless verbal attacks...
Heard from within their sacred domain,
Than directed from outside from someone else.
Digging deep are many seeking,
To avenge themselves...
And others wronging judged.
However...
The ones making these attempts,
Are the very people...
Who began agitating with accusations,
That the ones they wish now to protect...
Were the ones to slander as mavericks and pests.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Looking Back
There you go running this way and that,
You mean well but you haven't thought it through,
You sweat the big tears and cry yourself to sleep when alone,
You forgot that time heels nothing but the heart can heal everything,
You remember enough to feel guilty, but not enough to know why,
Look back man, look back to find and forgive yourself,
I should have waited, I know, but I forgave you anyway,
Please find yourself so that you can forgive me,
Look back man, look back so that we can move forward,
You judged yourself and then forgot why, so now you judge me too,
I know the depth of your heart,
I know the strength of your courage,
You have no fear except of your past,
You have no limits,
You have no need of your regrets,
You think that your love is limitless, but it's stuck in the past,
Keep digging deep within and you will find pain,
Keep digging deep within and you will find Truth,
Keep digging deep within and eventually you will find real love,
Keep digging deep within and you will find peace,
Keep digging deep within and you will find me.
March 2012
poem by David Andre' Klopper
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In A Deafening Stubbornness
A resting temporarily,
From a digging of a hole
Dug deep,
Is no cause for celebration.
For those blindfolded,
In a deafening stubbornness they keep.
Especially if the digging done,
Is away from and not towards the light.
And those who enthusiastically dig,
See themselves as making progress.
A progress only they believe,
Can be achieved
Without listening to others,
Standing above them in silhouette
Against the rays of the Sun.
A digging like this continued
Out of listening distance,
Has long ago begun!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let Me Avenge Satan
Let me avenge Satan,
For tempting me all life;
He is the big Liar,
Who brought me all my strife.
Let me avenge Satan,
For accusing mankind;
He gives false promises,
And confuses each mind.
Let me avenge Satan,
For misleading all souls;
His craftiness is clear,
And wily are his roles.
Let me avenge Satan,
For giving me my woes;
He’s the fallen angel,
The Chief among my foes.
Let me avenge Satan,
For goading me to sin;
He‘s the source of evil,
Against whom I must win.
Let me avenge Satan,
For giving bad advice;
He is my betrayer,
Who lures all into vice.
Let me avenge Satan,
For setting snares for me;
He waits to ambush me
In my iniquity.
Let me avenge Satan,
For making my eyes dim;
And raising doubts in me,
And turning my life grim.
Let me avenge Satan,
For causing wars on earth;
And spreading hatred great,
Amongst siblings since birth.
Let me avenge Satan,
For telling just untruth; ;
And tempting Eve to eat,
The God-forbidden fruit.
Let me avenge Satan,
For goading Cain to kill
His brother dear Abel,
And keeping not God’s will.
Let me avenge Satan.
For tempting Lord Jesus,
After forty-days’ fast,
And thwarting mankind’s bliss.
Let me avenge Satan,
For taking souls to hell,
God made for all devils,
And angels all who fell.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-11-2008
poem by John Celes
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Digging Real Deep
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch or a feel of return.
And a lesson's not learned,
That...
A deposit made to dip,
For tasty lips...
Took too many dips,
To withdrawn the end of it.
And there will be no return...
You put that last deposit in your pocket,
And then you split...
With it.
You put that last deposit in your pocket,
And then you split...
With it.
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch or a feel of return.
And a lesson's not learned,
That...
A deposit made to dip,
For tasty lips...
Took too many dips,
To withdrawn the end of it.
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch of return,
IS...
Digging real deep.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch of return,
IS...
Digging real deep
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch of return,
Long ago had been burned.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fallen In
She promised me a
“Better life”
As we moved in there
I hated it
Something’s don’t change
For nothing will be the same
After we moved in I lost something
Something so vital in
My upbringing
That I would not be the same person I am today
That something
Would be my family
They turned into just
People I live with
Day to day
The longer we stayed
The longer we got comfortable
The bigger the hole got
And the littler the latter got
At one time the latter was only half as tall as the hole
But we kept on digging and digging and digging
To where the hole is to big to deep
To climb out of
Now it’s as if we all are stuck in the middle
Big hole with no way out
So someone is smothering us
Since we all have
Fallen in
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Digging A Ditch
I'm digging a ditch
Where madness lives
I'm digging a ditch
Where my silence lives
I'm diggin a ditch and when I am through
Digging this ditch I'll dig one for you
Digging a ditch
As black as cold
Digging a ditch
Where I can hide my soul
Digging a ditch
Where my secrets stay
[The Newer Version
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band from Busted Stuff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What If
I can't find the rhyme in all my reason
Lost sense of time and all seasons
Feel I've been beaten down
By the words of men who have no grounds
Can't sleep beneath the trees of wisdom
When your ax has cut the roots that feed them
Forked tongues in bitter mouths
Can drive a man to bleed from inside out
What if you did?
What if you lied?
What if I avenge?
What if eye for an eye?
I've seen the wicked fruit of your vine
Destroy the man who lacks a strong mind
Human pride sings a vengeful song
Inspired by the times you've been walked on
My stage is shared by many millions
Who lift their hands up high because they feel this
We are one We are strong
The more you hold us down the more we press on
What if you did?
What if you lied?
What if I avenge?
What if eye for an eye?
[Guitar Break]
I know I can't hold the hate inside my mind
'Cause what consumes your thoughts controls your life
So I'll just ask a question
A lonely simple question
I'll just ask one question
What if? What if?
What if? What if?
What If I?
What if? What if?
What if? What if?
What If I?
What if? What if?
What if? What if?
What If I?
What if? What if?
What if? What if?
What If I?
What if you did?
What if you lied?
What if I avenge?
What if eye for an eye?
What if your words could be judged like a crime?
What if? What if?
What if? What if?
What If I?
What if? What if?
What if? What if?
What If I?
What if? What if?
What if? What if?
What If I?
What if? What if?
What if? What if?
What If I?
song performed by by Creed from Human Clay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Up Close and Vivid
There was a time,
I loved agitating.
Just to see different expressions,
Shown on people's faces.
Coming close,
To aggravation.
I knew my limitations.
I had gone to school to learn body language.
Interpersonal Communication.
And studying 'where' folks' feelings were.
You know...
Probing from afar.
Seeking to discover...
With just observation.
Who was disturbed...?
Who was emotionally disconnected,
And unnnerved.
And just 'who' was crazed?
Living on the edge...
Seeking to escape the maze of life.
Only to discover my own paranoia!
Today,
Few people are trying to hide their disgust!
Some are outright enraged.
With attempts to masquerade an outrage...
Many caring less,
If that it is shown on display!
And I am not quick to agitate...
For experimental purposes.
Not today!
Too many folks have venom in their eyes.
And I've learned to do what I've been trained to do,
From my early days of schooling.
I either wear my sunshades.
Or talk to myself!
Choosing to fit right in!
But I don't have to take notes today...
Too much of this 'stuff' is up close and vivid!
And I rehearse ducking...
Just in case a wild punch is thrown,
On its way to pay a personal visit!
These are not the times,
For one to blindly unwind...
To share false pretensions.
Too many folks are easily provoked.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Diggers
The diggers are digging, and digging deep,
They’re digging and singing,
And I’m asleep.
They’re digging and singing and swiftly they’re swinging
The flying earth as it falls in a heap.
And some of it scatters and falls on my head;
But the diggers dig on. They can only dig.
They can only sing and their eyes are big,
Their eyes are big and heavy as lead.
They dig and they sing and they think I’m dead
The diggers are digging, and filling the hole.
They’re sighing and singing.
They pray for my soul.
I hear what they say, and from where I am lying,
I hear a new corporal calling the roll.
But the diggers dig on and fill in my bed,
They diggers dig on, and they sweat and they sweat.
They sigh and they sign, and their wyes are wet.
The brown earth clatters and covers my head;
Then I laugh and I laugh, for they think that I’m dead.
poem by Leon Gellert
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Judged (I Believe)
Originally posted in 2008, however some issues occured and all my poetry was deleted, however I had a copy of it stored and am reposting it now
Do me wrong, and ill do you right
Punch me in the face, and ill still be alright
Do me wrong and say what you will
Cos I know and I believe
That These folks will be judged someday
I believe you'll be judged one day
Stab my back, and ill scratch yours right
Screw me over and Ill still be alright
Screw me over, stab my back
Cos I know and I believe
That everyone is judged someday
I believe you'll be judged one day
Don't Believe in God, cos I like his teachin'
Don't worship the son, cos I hate their preachin'
But I believe I'll be judged someday
I believe I'll be judged someday
poem by Electric Tripp
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As individuals, we will be judged in our lives by the totality of our actions. Not one thing will stand out. And I think that's how we get judged by our colleagues and that's how we get judged by the good lord.
quote by Rahm Emanuel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Innocent Man
An innocent man he was
The perfect gentleman
The kind of man
you could only spin out
in your endless dreams
He was declared guilty
and a sentence was passed
without a glance
before he even had a chance
An innocent man he was
A man of truth
A man of pride
A man whose words
would sit down gently by your side
Seeking for freedom
Seeking for justice
Seeking to be heard
judged wrongly instead
He was a man of love
He sought salvation from above
Nothing was straight
All the answers
were bent like a curve
An innocent man he was
With no regrets
His worst fear
he had already met
misjudged, complaints lodged
There were two sides
with options so wide
Only one was chosen
The other ignored
Where was the trust?
When was it lost?
What would it take
to sacrifice at stake?
To prove he was an innocent man
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Shaking The Doll
Oh I wont be your pretty baby,
I wont eat from your hand again.
And the man in the white says its alright,
He says, come on girl give up the fight.
Youll go to sleep, there will be no pain.
Well I want to live with myself again.
Well, where we lived there was a lighthouse,
Throwing a white beam into our house,
Over my body when I was sleeping,
Over the secrets I was keeping,
I could tell myself there would be no pain,
But I have to live with myself again.
Im digging up, Im digging up,
Im digging up, Im digging up,
Im digging up, Im digging up,
Im digging in the earth.
Im looking for signs
And Im shaking the dolls
And the fairy-tales lied
And somewhere, back there
I didnt understand,
Man and woman and woman and man.
And Im shaking the dolls
Im shaking the dolls.
Oooh, the dream isnt coming through,
I cant feel for you.
Well somewhere, back there
I didnt understand,
Man and woman and woman and man,
And Im shaking the dolls
Im shaking the dolls.
Oooh I have to live with myself again,
Oohh I want to be with my body again,
Ooohyou cant make me hollow again.
Oooh, the dream isnt coming through
I cant feel for you.
Love, shooting up, through my veins,
I gotta get a hit again.
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Protection
We don't need protection from terrorists anymore.
What we protection from is never-ending war.
Protect us from the propaganda.
Proect us from the lies.
Protect us from the legislation
set up to tyrannize.
Protect us from the vaccines
that cause more harm than good.
Protect us from the violence
that comes from Hollywood.
Protect us from injustice
emanating from the courts.
Protect our kids from drug enhancements
while they're playing sports.
Protect us from illegals taking all our jobs.
Protect us from the gangs and all the angry mobs.
Protect us from the wealthy who never have enough.
The terrorists are not coming.
It's time to call their bluff.
We don't need protection from terrorists anymore.
What we need protection from is right within our shore.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Back to Basics
I'm not into digging deep into the bottom of things!
If it is it is...
If it's not it's not!
I'm not a scientist.
Even though I do enjoy exploring the possibilities.
There's too many folks into business not theirs!
I'm into living my own life,
Free from acceptance and approval!
If someone wants to stop to take time
To find out what I'm doing...
Why and how?
They are seeking for reasons!
Without a moments rest that's pleasing them!
If anyone wants to research my movements...
Why not?
We're all assigned to do something!
Me?
I just want to discover someone...
And let communication flow.
Have chemistry between us,
And get naked!
Back to basics.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Judged
Will they judge me by the color of my skin
Instead by my soul and whats deep within
When I am greeted by either women or men
Will they even ask where I have been.
Will I be judged because I am a man
With my heart and feelings will they understand
Will I be greeted with an outreached hand
Will they hold it against me when I make a stand.
Will I be judged because I am old
And not wanting to do the things that I am told
Will they remember the good deeds that I sowed
As onto truth and honesty I will always hold.
Will I be judged because of the way I was
Once I found happiness and also love
But then I found out it was hate and also lust
So please tell me, how will I be judge.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Wiggle That Jiggles On a Back Stacked
Sitting back chatting,
And rapping about their six packs.
Digging on a boom-boom.
Fixed on a boom-boom...
To hit up for a boot knocking.
Wanting some of 'that'...
Wiggle that jiggles on a back stacked!
And digging on a boom-boom.
Fixed on a boom-boom.
In people's minds,
They seem to be seeking...
A place to shack,
All the time.
That's where their minds are at.
In people's minds,
Nothing more than that...
Seems to attract.
Sitting back chatting,
And rapping about their six packs.
With a wanting of some of 'that'...
Wiggle that jiggles on a back stacked!
And digging on a boom-boom.
Fixed on a boom-boom.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Digging For Gold
They married on a fancy yacht out on the water
He knew she was young enough to be his daughter
There always questions in the heart of millionaires
Would she make heartfelt promises if the money was not there
And he said, do you love me, baby, do you want me to hold
Or are you just digging for gold
Do you care enough to give me your heart and soul
Or are you just digging for gold
She ran his weary heart through the ringer
And she wore him like the diamond ring around her finger
Well, his advances and affections, she managed to avoid
But, she got the lap of luxury and he got paranoid
And he said, do you love me, baby, do you want me to hold
Or are you just digging for gold
Do you care enough to give me your heart and soul
Or are you just digging for gold, digging for gold
Big house, limousines,
Fine wines, fine cuisines,
Vale and vegas twice a year,
Trips to paris on the leer
Black tuesday when that wall of wealth came crashing down
Bad news day when that little queen had to give back her crown
And he said, hey babe, we can live on love cuz love is worth much more
But he barely got his feelings out, she was half way to the door
And she never even heard him cry
Do you love me, baby, do you want me to hold
Or are you just digging for gold
Do you care enough to give me your heart and soul
Or are you just digging for gold
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coming For Them To An End
No one can protect themselves,
Or what it is they do to others...
With the assistance of ignorance.
Nor can those who are rich,
Continue to hoard the World's resources...
By declaring the existence of shortages.
The time for those unseen who rule,
Is coming for them to an end...
Today to expose them.
And those who refuse to acknowledge truth,
By a blocking it with attempts to see it stopped...
Have no more opportunities to get out of the way.
It is pointless for those to gather with others,
Of similar sensibilities...
To debate with a wasting of time,
A defending of a hold they have on their ignorance...
To prove they are out of their minds.
Few are seeking to define the obvious.
The time for those unseen who rule,
Is coming for them to an end...
Today to expose them.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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March
I
Winter is long in this climate
and spring--a matter of a few days
only,--a flower or two picked
from mud or from among wet leaves
or at best against treacherous
bitterness of wind, and sky shining
teasingly, then closing in black
and sudden, with fierce jaws.
II
March,
you reminded me of
the pyramids, our pyramids--
stript of the polished stone
that used to guard them!
March,
you are like Fra Angelico
at Fiesole, painting on plaster!
March,
you are like a band of
young poets that have not learned
the blessedness of warmth
(or have forgotten it).
At any rate--
I am moved to write poetry
for the warmth there is in it
and for the loneliness--
a poem that shall have you
in it March.
III
See!
Ashur-ban-i-pal,
the archer king, on horse-back,
in blue and yellow enamel!
with drawn bow--facing lions
standing on their hind legs,
fangs bared! his shafts
bristling in their necks!
Sacred bulls--dragons
in embossed brickwork
marching--in four tiers--
along the sacred way to
Nebuchadnezzar's throne hall!
They shine in the sun,
they that have been marching--
marching under the dust of
ten thousand dirt years.
Now--
they are coming into bloom again!
See them!
marching still, bared by
the storms from my calender
--winds that blow back the sand!
winds that enfilade dirt!
winds that by strange craft
have whipt up a black army
that by pick and shovel
bare a procession to
the god, Marduk!
Natives cursing and digging
for pay unearth dragons with
upright tails and sacred bulls
alternately--
in four tiers--
lining the way to an old altar!
Natives digging at old walls--
digging me warmth--digging me sweet loneliness
high enamelled walls.
IV
My second spring--
passed in a monastery
with plaster walls--in Fiesole
on the hill above 'Florence.
My second spring--painted
a virgin--in a blue aureole
sitting on a three-legged stool,
arms crossed--
she is intently serious,
and still
watching an angel
with colored wings
half kneeling before her--
and smiling--the angel's eyes
holding the eyes of Mary
as a snake's hold a bird's.
On the ground there are flowers,
trees are in leaf.
V
But! now for the battle!
Now for murder--now for the real thing!
My third springtime is approaching!
Winds!
lean, serious as a virgin,
seeking, seeking the flowers of March.
Seeking
flowers nowhere to be found,
they twine among the bare branches
in insatiable eagerness--
they whirl up the snow
seeking under it--
they--the winds--snakelike
roar among yellow reeds
seeking flowers--flowers.
I spring among them
seeking one flower
in which to warm myself!
I deride with all the ridicule
of misery--
my own starved misery.
Counter-cutting winds
strike against me
refreshing their fury!
Come, good, cold fellows!
Have we no flowers?
Defy then with even more
desperation than ever--being
lean and frozen!
But though you are lean and frozen--
think of the blue bulls of Babylon.
Fling yourselves upon
their empty roses--
cut savagely!
But--
think of the painted monastery
at Fiesole.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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