Selective Memories
Those who believe they have feelings felt,
That should be given more of a priority
Over other human beings.
While they believe it is okay,
To do unto others as they please
As if blessed with the getting,
Of an attention?
Well
When I was raise,
The phrase that still applies
And has not faded away,
Do Unto Others As You Expect Them,
To Do Unto You~
Needs not to be updated,
To be re-clarified with an interpretation.
It seems to have a snug fit.
No matter what the language.
Some folks in the process of their doing,
Seem to have selective memories
When it comes to their intentional,
Misdeeds done.
And others in their forgiving,
Aren't so blessed to be possessed
With a forgetting.
They do not have that
As a selective choice from which to choose,
To erase from vivid memories.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Selective Obnoxiousness
Some folks enjoy being annoying.
It is a pattern.
A rhythm.
A method of selective obnoxiousness.
Intentional and done to perfect what they do best.
Annoy since no other attention do they get!
Some folks make it their priority,
To make sure their presence is known.
Sometimes through use of flattery,
Much of it overblown.
Ignoring them is a challenge,
For the one who has been picked.
And responding with crude rudeness...
Gives them not a hint,
Those they choose to monitor...
Are not amused by it one bit!
Some folks enjoy being annoying.
It is a pattern.
A rhythm.
A method of selective obnoxiousness.
And quietly minding one's own business,
Is like feeding fresh unhooked worms,
To a school of fish!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Waiting to Dispense a Benefit of Doubt
Doesn't it seem as if those with selective memories,
Are always quick to tell their versions of truth...
With few facts involved.
Accusatory and defensive are their most common traits.
And there to appease a fence sitting,
When confronted in debate.
Out of both sides of their mouths expect anything.
But honesty is not one of them.
Those with selective memories have no clue what honesty means.
It is just not in their natures.
Hopefully you are not one patiently in quiet waiting,
To dispense a benefit of doubt to eventually see wasted.
I only have a few of those 'I-told-you-so' left to spare.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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All Of It Is Educational
If education had been a priority,
Its connection to greatness...
Would not have been an elective,
For the selective chosen few to possess.
If education had been a priority,
The providing of it...
Would have been more collective.
Without those costly decisions made,
To leave behind many subjected...
And left to think of themselves as fools.
Like those who have proven to be incompetent.
With abilities to deceive.
If education had been a priority,
Its connection to greatness...
Would not have been an elective,
For the selective chosen few to possess.
And a greatness declared,
Through one's ability to produce weaponry...
Isn't greatness.
That's the height of evil stupidity.
Eventually used to attack its producer.
'Like that mad scientist obsessed,
Who exhumed bodies...
To design his own human beings.
He alone would command their dependency.
But his first and only creation turned on him.
What was his name? '
Frankenstein.
'Are you sure? '
Not really.
So many have been running for political office.
'You refer to Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde.'
Does it really matter when all of them are monsters?
'Yes it does.
Because all of it is educational.
All of it.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When Escalations Of Misdeeds Increase
A process of selective hearing,
Eliminates active listening...
With a comprehension done.
We all have been guilty,
Of hearing what we choose to hear.
Only to misunderstand with attitude to gain.
And when an attitude obtained is gained,
What remains is conflict to offer.
As if a victory will be achieved.
When escalations of misdeeds increase,
There is little evidence that peace will be left...
To be kept respected.
A process of selective hearing,
Eliminates active listening...
With a comprehension done.
When escalations of misdeeds increase,
There is little evidence that peace will be left...
To be kept respected.
That is not the goal,
When an ego has been unleashed...
From its confines of common sense.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Forgiving Is Too Distant From Their Hearts
Not too many,
Are willing...
To forget with an ending.
With a forgiving,
To begin.
Ready they are not!
Forgiving is too distant from their hearts.
What's been done,
To many...
Sits,
Deep within...
With a tearing them apart.
Forgiving is too distant from their hearts.
No matter what some folks do,
Forgiving is too distant from their hearts.
Some people show they are cruel,
To forgive them is too distant from some hearts.
And when those people choose to forgive,
A forgetting is repeated...
Again to remember.
Remember.
Remember...
No matter what some folks do,
Forgiving is too distant from their hearts.
Some people show they are cruel,
To forgive them is too distant from some hearts.
And when those people choose to forgive,
A forgetting is repeated...
Again to remember.
Not too many,
Are willing...
To forget with an ending.
With a forgiving,
To begin.
Ready they are not!
Forgiving is too distant from their hearts.
Forgiving is too distant from their hearts.
Forgiving is too distant from their hearts.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Posturing
Posturing,
Upon your fears.
To have you pay,
For years and years.
A sacrifice demanded,
And reprimanding guilt.
Just to have you accept,
Deceptions dealt.
Without regard or empathy,
Of who has feelings deeply felt.
Posturing?
Yes!
Who benefits...
From this 'bull' that sits?
No need for guesses to further depress.
It will not be you.
You are no where in view.
You are not on the radar...
Or on this selective menu.
Neither as a consideration!
Nor as a choice to choose.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Selective Recall.
An elephant never forgets
The things he's done which he regrets.
He cannot edit memories
which human beings do with ease
This is a burden he must bear
increasing slowly year by year.
His past mistakes accumulate
and he is weighed down by their weight.
But human beings can erase
all memories of their younger days
By wiping out the evidence
they can protest their innocence.
I'm glad I'm not an elephant
and can block out what I don't want.
20-Oct-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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What I Like From You
i like to think that you think that i am not at all serious about memories.
memories are not like seeds
they do not grow anywhere when thrown
memories are selective
for instance in our minds these memories think that they are special
and must be treated in such ways
like an important guest to be fed and pampered
there were memories that i killed
say i am cruel say i am one of those savages in the mountains
killing innocent natives direct to the eye
bull's eye bullshit bull's eye
the man fell straight to the ravine without the benefit of any doubt
at first we shiver but it will only be for that first time
and there is the second
and there is the nth time
and we become numb to ourselves
to our own words we embrace the silence of the
whatever whoever whenever
the who what where and when
there was that woman naked bathing in the river
and there was that monkey
did you hear the sound again? i wish i have no ears
i wish i have no mind at all
what have you made out of me? a doughnut, a black hole, a grass
a cloud.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When you get something like MTV, it's like regular television. You get it, and at first it's novel and brand new and then you watch every channel, every show. And then you become a little more selective and more selective, until ultimately... you wind up with a radio.
quote by David Lee Roth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yes, I Am B-l-e-s-s-e-d
I know I've been blessed!
How do I know that?
I've allowed you to dump your nonsense on me,
And I haven't 'blessed' you out!
I've had choice words to say to you for years.
And I've been fighting back the urge
Not to pull from those places you have encouraged.
I know I have been blessed.
To manifest goodwill and pray for the welfare of mankind
When many of those folks have done their best...
To drive me out of my mind!
I KNOW I have been blessed.
But I will cuss someone now and then.
One of 'them' who likes testing shark infested waters.
Just as a reminder how blessed I am
To keep myself from biting the heads off
Of those who can't get enough of agitating others
At their expense.
I don't leave anyone in suspense!
Yes, I am b-l-e-s-s-e-d.
And I leave no one guessing about it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Memories
Memories of good times
Memories of bad times
Memories of our love
So many memories
Memories of us crying
Memories of us laughing
Memories of our commitment
So many memories
Memories of us hugging
Memories of us kissing
Memories of those late nights
So many memories
Memories of how we met
Memories of how you left
Memories of what you said
So many memories
Why did you leave me
with so many memories
Did you ever realize
that my memories are yours
Everything we did together
stays within our memories
I remember getting hurt
Do you hurt too
Let's make a new memory
that we can both share
Let's love again
in our memories
poem by Adam McKim
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To Protect 'Your' Interests
My fellow Americans.
And those of preferred hyphenations.
Listen up!
This is your commander speaking.
It has been brought to my attention,
Many of you have become disgruntled.
Upset!
By the direction I have chosen,
To stir this vessel of imperfection.
However...
This needs clarity.
And many of you have been begging for just that!
As a reminder to those of selective memories.
Not too long ago,
There were those who had jumped ship.
Remember they selfishly pocketed?
With blatant greed and thoughtlessness.
To leave you shocked and dismissed.
Remember it!
Now they secretly wish to return,
As if I am not the one...
Who desires to protect 'your' interests.
You know what a bull does,
When it squats?
Keep that image!
And forget it not!
Remember it.
And don't let your memories stop!
The many of you wishing to review,
Your heartfelt empathies?
Have only one choice.
Accept the truth!
Since it is too late for your to leave.
Snap out of it!
You have no idea,
How tough it has been...
To keep your ridiculous delusions afloat!
On a boat I'm guiding through these stormy seas,
Just on faith and principle.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Luck of a Blessing
HA HA HA, just my luck...
I try hard to go one way, but God wants me to go another.
I thought this was the right choice, but He says choose again.
Nothing is ever easy when it's something worth fighting for,
but nothing is ever more harder when that same cause you'll die to protect
has stabbed you in the heart.
So I guess that's just my luck...
I am a person who knows many things, and the one thing
I do know is that things will never be the same-we all have to
except change rather good, or bad, its comes with the territory..... the territory of life.
But I guess luck has nothing to do with it,
but love is everything about it.
Focus not on the feeling, but on the person. He truly loves us through thick and thin,
even though some may not love Him back.
We love because he loved first-we suffer because he suffered
greater-and we live because He still does.
So that's my luck, the fact that I'm blessed.
No matter how the day goes I'm blessed.
No matter where in life He takes me I'm blessed,
and no matter who leaves me, whether it's a lover, friend,
or members of family, with Him I'm always so thankfully blessed.
poem by Augustus Gatlin
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If Alone Memories Are Erasable !
IF ALONE MEMORIES ARE ERASABLE!
&
IS TOTAL ERASURE POSSIBLE?
WHEN THE BODY IS INCINERATED
THE ASH REMAINS-
HOW THEN TO ERADICATE THE ASH?
INCIDENTS DIE
BUT THE MEMORIES STICK ON-
HOW THEN TO ERASE THE MEMORIES?
&
WHEN GOOD THINGS WANE
AS THE FOOTPRINTS OF THE BREEZE
THE PRESSURE OF VIOLENT THOUGHTS
AS CHISELLED PRINTS ON ROCK
REMAIN INDELIBLE IN THE RECESSES OF MEMORY-
IN THE DARKNESS OF THE NIGHT
AND DEEP IN THE NEST OF THE IRIS
MEMORIES GLOW IN RED HOT FLAMES-
HOW THEN TO ERASE MEMORIES?
&
S.CHANDRA KALAADHAR
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Feelings Felt Deep And Personally
Some are still awaiting,
For an approval of their thoughtlessness.
With a comprehension understood and accepted,
As to reason.
While a guilt from them fades.
Having a consciousness presents its consequences.
There is a possibility of one escaping from mistakes made.
But intentional activities done,
Believing one to be freed from feelings of remorse...
Do not come quickly with hollow apologies.
Feelings felt deep and personally...
Often do not detach themselves from memories!
And someone consistent in showing their disrespect...
Are seldom seen walking in someone else's shoes.
Some feel it easy to excuse themselves from their misdeeds.
Until it has been made known whose toes they have stepped upon.
And only then they perceive this to be,
An oversight and a forgiveable issue to be forgotten.
Like the act of ruining one's reputation.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Choose to Bask In Sun
Got up this morning!
Feeling blessed,
And deciding what mood to address...
I would choose,
To be in!
After thanking God,
For opening up my eyes...
I went through an array of choices.
Hoping I would find no opportunities,
To raise my voice.
Let's see?
I did the cussing thing,
This past Tuesday.
Practicing choice cuss words...
Purely for experimentation reasons.
And keeping my lips in shape.
No respect is given,
Unless it is made clear...
Some professionalism is involved.
Folks love to test,
Those appearing calm and rested.
Then came Wednesday.
I guess I was still under Tuesday's aura!
Someone got me so pissed...
I took advantage of it.
And decided to chit and chat,
Until that heated into a nasty spat.
Yes,
I did dump some crap.
It was dumped and I was done with that.
That same evening...
I felt remorseful for the choice I chose to have done.
And that night,
I could not sleep.
Even the sheets on my bed annoyed me.
Instead of chilling out and drinking tea.
But even then,
In the wee hours rushing to get to dawn,
A cup of tea makes me pee.
Thursday, Friday and Saturday...
I'm determined to barracade myself
Surrounded by nothing but joy!
I choose this choice I inflict with bliss.
That left Sunday to explore and reflect.
And reject any negativity.
That kind of stress prolongs,
And drains.
How can a sanity be maintained with that?
And every Monday...
I choose to bask in Sun.
I choose to forgive and forget,
Those things done.
By me or anyone else.
Realizing there is nothing else I can do.
Not to lift anyone out of a boo hoo...
Someone else did,
To open another's eyelids to have the tears gush.
Those memorial weeps,
I am learning to sweep away.
Got up this morning!
Feeling blessed,
And deciding what mood to address...
I would choose,
To be in!
After thanking God,
For opening up my eyes...
I went through an array of choices,
This morning.
Hoping I would find no opportunities,
To raise my voice.
And I strengthen each day to make that choice.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We as Americans and as humans have very selective hearing and very selective memory. We only hear what we want to hear and disregard the rest.
quote by Frank Luntz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Despite The Lies, Deceit And Torment
People with selective memories,
Always want others not to remember...
What it was they had done.
Especially to those who have survived,
To heal from wounds to live happy lives...
Despite the lies, deceit and torment,
Some enjoyed inflicting upon them.
And...
Coincidentally,
They remain the same people today...
Who selectively 'choose' to forget,
What it was done they did decisively to others...
With a purpose to damage and affect their lives.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Trinity Of Carnatic Music 2-Muthuswamy Dhikshitar
Blessed Yogi when blessed
Blessed was your cognizant mastery
To be blessed from the sacred depths
Devi Ganga to treasure you with Rama-Veena
Blessed later when the Lord of Tiruttani
Blessed was 'you' with your vibhakti kritis
To be blessed from the heavenly treasury
'GuruGuha' to treasure you in bouffant compendium
Blessed your sanskrit lexicon when blessed
Blessed Navavarna kritis blossomed in stacks
To be blessed then planetary nine in seven talas
Extended seventy two Kartas issuing varieties aplenty
Blessed your peripatetic journey when blessed
Blessed Amrithavarshini pattered driving drought
To be blessed you then to sing to Madurai Meenakshi
'Meenalochani Pasamochani'to board you of Her abode
Blessed scholar with blessed knowledge
Blessed verbarian, blessed musician
To be blessed is we O'Guru, by your soul
Devis and deities from your resort of music
poem by Indira Renganathan
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A Father's Lament
I was never one for my kids to look up to
That's a stone cold fact that I'll always regret
I was never the best dad, for them to hold on to
I was there and I provided, I cared…and yet
I didn't give enough love, I wasn't tender enough
I was too much a disciplinarian, too quick to berate
I wanted to teach them to be righteous and tough
I realize my mistake, now that it's much… much too late
Too late to do the proper things…,
to say the words I wished I'd said
Too late to cherish them over, and above all other things
Too late to tuck them snugly in bed
To hold them tightly, to kiss them goodnight
Too late to see the happiness on their faces
Too late for me to set things right…
Too late to tie their tiny shoelaces
Too late to savor them clinging tightly to me
In fright at the monsters on 'Lost In Space'
Too late to wonder at their amazing resilience
As I looked down upon their angelic sleeping faces
They are blessed with selective memories that…
Remember only the good and not the bad
Thank God for the knowing that they remember me kindly
But no matter their memories…I'll always feel sad
For I look at old photos of them
And my old heart slowly breaks
At all the things I should have done back then
And of all my past mistakes
Now it's too late to tell them Of Fairies and moonbeams…
and sparkling stardust and of Angel wings
I was never one for my kids to look up to…
I can only grow old and… never forget
That I never did enough of these fatherly things
And I'll forever be one to look back and regret
poem by David Whalen
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