Since Birth
When one 'is' who they are...
And has been who they are since birth.
Expressing what it is they do,
Because it is no fluke!
Or a passing whim.
The odds are against those,
Who bet the one dissected...
Will be changing anytime soon!
With many hats worn,
To express from the same creativity.
As has been done since birth.
So to ask,
'Larry?
Are you 'still' doing your 'thing'? '
That 'thing' might be considered breathing.
And thought to be a foolish question to ask.
Especially if one is seen doing it.
And the process of delivery has been the same,
Since birth!
With evidence all over the place as proof.
But many want to find,
A blemish to be flawed!
Like an identity one has,
With expectations of it to change!
Like a diaper some still wear.
Seeking the next step to development.
And some know exactly who they are...
Why and the how of it!
And that is what they do.
There is no notoriety sought for it.
If it is given...
Then something must be good,
About what it is that's done.
With devotion and dedication.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
With Or Without Certifiable Documents
Birth certificate aside.
When did one's birth certificate,
Qualify them with competence?
And those who have them...
Why has the importance of having one,
Not as of yet assisted in providing proof...
Anyone seeking another's evidence of being born,
Impresses with an accountability they have not shown.
Even taking responsibility for their own actions commited...
Are blamed on someone else!
Birth certificate aside.
When did one's birth certificate,
Qualify them with competence?
Or excluded them from an honesty,
That has been truthfully with a blatantness deceived...
With or without certifiable documents.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Prescribed Thought A Prescribed Mode Of Action
There is no such a thing
There is no such a thing as a most natural way
There is no such a thing as a most natural way of expressing a thought
There is no such a thing as a most natural way of expressing a thought a mode of action
There is no such a thing as a most natural way of expressing a thought a mode of action a form of logic
After so much thought
After so much thought about loneliness
It becomes apparent
Logic can no longer be relied upon
Logic can no longer be relied upon as a base for studying the structure of language
The structure of my poetry
The structure of my soul
The structure of my God
I dare think
I dare to know
I dare to think
I will not be hardwired from the thinking of my birth rising from some dogmatic slumber.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Outdated Praise
My experiences seem to peak...
When treated,
With the fresh flowing...
Of creativity at its birth.
Arriving on Earth from the unknown.
For redundant examinations!
To expose myself to repeated visits,
With wishes to be affected,
As expected...
By those who make attempts,
To re-invent an exposed fresh flow.
Is for me too conforming.
With a 'boring' done and shown!
It for me is like trying to find new ways,
To tie shoes...
I've known have worn out.
And doing my best to develop an interest,
In the activity.
Although they may comfort my steps,
When I walk about.
The wear and tear is there to express this!
My need to be excited by innovation,
Is not comprehended by those...
Seeking to authorize a familiarity!
To eventually announce an acceptance,
With outdated praise.
To those subjected to limited vision...
This is okay.
Who am I to say it isn't?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Proof or no proof
No surnames before or after
Carries the meaning thereafter
A simple label for acknowledgement
Still it may invite many comments
We may add suitable prefix or suffix
It is to cater the feeling mix
All to vapor in time to come
Who else will wait for us to welcome?
We may change the status in times to come
For public consumption and good welcome
It will trouble still the big crisis
You try for futile bid with clear emphasis
Identity or no identity or proof or no proof
We have to remain lone and aloof
No surname or cast given at birth
Human will perish as human after death
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Change immortal is, mortal what has changed
Alive before birth, I shall exist still
Long after my body's burnt, or buried,
Me taking but a newer name at will,
I change and change not still, oft changing creed—
That change immortal is and mortal is
Only what's changing; Man's afraid of death,
Not in awe of what aught die in disease,
Man's in fear of change, of taking fresh breath.
But where in Nature there's such thing as death?
What we call change O cosmic reshuffle
Is; matter-energy's dance, change of faith,
Which, man as divine deems, far too subtle.
But one thing is not too far of belief:
If body and mind dies, what a relief!
_____________________________________________ ______
- Sonnets | 04.09.11 |
poem by Aniruddha Pathak
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Ode to Rebirth - Cross Century Surgery Operation
voila! if rebirth is a fact and
time travel is mastered
you can always request
at the cross century
surgery theatre, your first human birth
eyes, second birth eyebrows
fifth birth nose, cheeks,
eighth birth shoulder blade, and
the fusion of fifth and eight birth sexes
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Pay To the Trusted Men Due
Pay to trusted men their due.
Pay not a thing to the fool.
Some men are fools by birth
Other by their own device
Which would you say is right?
The fool by birth can do but naught
The self made fool himself to rot.
God shall look over him from birth
And leave the other in the dirt.
poem by David E. Patton
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Of Fools In The World
Pay to trusted man their due.
Pay not a thing to the fool.
Some men are fools by birth
Other by their own device
Which would you say is right?
The fool by birth can do but naught
The self made fool himself to rot.
God shall look over him from birth
And leave the other in the dirt.
poem by David E. Patton
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Death and Birth
Death leads to birth rather than birth, to death.
Birth is close to death and not vice versa.
Every birth is at the result of a death.
Death to birth, not birth to death, is the path.
The death of clay is the birth of a pot;
The death of the pot is the birth of clay.
Ice melts to water and water forms ice.
In each conversion, occur death and birth.
The death of a night is the birth of a day;
The death of a day is the birth of a night.
New Year means the death of the old year too.
In each transition, takes place death and birth.
The death of a seed is the birth of a plant;
The death of gametes is the birth of an embryo.
Salts die to form cells; cells die to form salts.
In each growth, form death and birth of matter.
The so called death and birth is nothing but
Deaths and births of forms made of matter.
The matter itself does not die to be born
But is converted to different forms.
Elements disappear to form plants.
Plants as food add to the animals’ flesh.
Plants and animals on death liberate
As elements, serving through worms and germs.
When a child is born, there’s no birth of life.
The embryo transforms into a child.
When a man dies, there is no death of life.
The body disintegrates to salts.
Matter, energy and life have no death
They have got one birth since when they’ve been.
They interact and come different stages
In which the pattern is death and birth.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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South Africa Is Also My Country
From my birth South Africa is my own country
and my people can flee to an island
but my own culture and language stays holy
although this place is not safe,
I still trust on a much higher hand,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
From my birth South Africa is my own country
even if the struggling government gives me resistance,
do oppress me with unfair laws,
even if nothing can stop the disintegration,
even if I am not safe against the onslaught,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
From my birth South Africa is my own country,
even if some act with effrontery against my people
I come from a noble heritage,
I am proud on my Afrikaner lineage,
even if people and buildings are set alight,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
From my birth South Africa is my own country
with no other place I have such a deep bond
and even if here I will never have any job,
I believe in God and a Christian church,
God himself still keeps my ways intact,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
poem by Gert Strydom
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It Is Best To Be Prepared
Just because a mouth is constantly open...
Doesn't mean expectations should be raised,
That anything worthwhile comes out of it.
Would you trust one known to gossip...
With a secret,
You wished not have publicly exist?
Think about it!
Would you rely on someone,
Who has never committed to anything done?
But sit,
To give unsolicited opinions...
As if,
They have knowledge or wisdom you had not witnessed.
When someone like this gives you advice...
Don't be disrespectful by not listening.
Since you never know what is being said...
Will make you think about it more than twice.
Remember...
If you can tolerate BS?
Anything is possible.
Even a confession of ignorance.
I've done it!
And it is refreshing to become 'humblized'!
A process called 'growth' begins.
Just because a mouth is constantly open...
Doesn't mean expectations should be raised,
That anything worthwhile comes out of it.
But then again...
Never lower 'your' expectations,
That something coming out of a mouth like this...
Has not been visited by a thought process.
Connecting one day to make sense!
And you were blessed to have been made a gift of it!
The eyes and ears take over,
When the mouth is closed.
With observation and listening enhanced.
It is best to be prepared...
Anytime, any place, from anyone and anywhere!
Even birds don't fly seeking just a tree to land on.
Nor does wisdom exclusively come from those considered wise!
And 'that' took me a long time to realize,
My depth of comprehension...
Kept adding unto my understanding.
And at times my patience and tolerance I question.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Brothels Freshly Painted
Pins like needles used,
Will stick and prick.
As they sit in hats
Worn by witches
To keep them holding on...
To hair bouffanted and thick!
Used they were to keep men in line.
In those times when sex...
Was not considered done
To get another one sick,
Of it!
And when men had 'itches'
Approached women wearing hats.
They made sure they had manners.
Wishing to get their pricks exclusively...
Inside.
With or without hats.
That's how it was done...
In brothels freshly painted!
Not tainted like the trash today,
Found anytime on Hollywood and Vine!
And...
After passing up renovated garbage,
On 42nd and 8th Avenue!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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He Was Born In Ussr
He was born in USSR
At the hospital there
At 5: 30 am
And that was the time that his mother gave birth to him
But I remember that she said that giving birth was very hard
And I can say to that
Thanks God that men don't give birth
Because I don't think they would want to go through with it
Knowing that there is pain in giving birth to a baby
But when he was 13 he moved from USSR to United States
So that he could get a god education
And a good job in his life
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Fighting Death
Death follows birth; does birth follow birth?
Birth to death, journeys have ups and down.
What is the status between death and birth?
Why must you fight death if no-rebirth is bliss?
(15.03.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Birth Right
From the moment of birth
I am made to realize of a special birth right
To let not death dethrone me of my existence
But my right to wear death as crown
To live as a king, eternally ruling a kingdom within
Without the fright of letting the right to slip away
Again and again,
To conquer mortality, is,
My birth right towards immortality.
(220507)
poem by cyclopseven Ram
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The difference
I don't see any difference between birth and death
good and bad, happy and sorrow
smile and cry, man and woman et cetera.,
The crawl from cradle to graveyard
one day we have to say good bye to all.
If there is a re-birth? .
We come again in different names and faces.
Former lovers passing themselves
nobody recognizes each other
Oh! what a sad event?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Keep Shining
Heaven and earth will not change places
Birth and death will not change time
But time will leave its mark on faces
And the stars will bravely shine.
Life and dreams will not be hollow
The thing that's lost, yet we will find
We will not stray if we but follow
Close to the stars that bravely shine.
A man will learn to search inside him
For what, at birth, was left behind
All his days, his own heart to guide him-
Within, without, the brave stars shine.
poem by Patti Masterman
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New Birth of Freedom
A new birth of freedom
has come
we have won
won we have
slave are now saviour
we have been discriminated
by them but thank
GOD for changes'
learning your language
and teaching you your
language 'many has lost
their lifes just to
see this day
many are living by
instalment just to touch
this day' should i
call them casualties but
what a bloodless war
we have fought
what a troubadour we
have traverse
nomatter what change we can
its really a birth
of a new freedom
our shame has turn
into fame
the disregard has become
the most powerful person
on earth
change we can
A new birth of freedom
has come we are
now equal amongs them
no more discrimination and
humiliation
better is not good
enough the best is
yet to come.
poem by Senator alufalism
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A Red Cow Speaks with Deeds!
Passing the slaughter house
The barber stops for a while
And he feels his previous birth
That he's a cow!
Now I cut the hair
From a child to an adult
Never do a sin
And the mirror knows
But no way to express her emotions?
When I use the razor for shaving
I'll be very patient
Specially on butcher's throat
As still I feel that enormous pain
And what he did in my previous birth?
(For Dorothy A.Holmes apwlts2 in gratitude!)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Stating It Simply.. So, You'll Understand
It isn't always me..
But this is your flawed method of communication
I told you it's confusing..
I am not the one
Telling you I'm longing for you
If you notice, If you'll bother to recall
The few times I've communicated
There's a pattern
As for never going home again,
Don't I know it..
I lost my home at twenty six
It was devastating
But,
I picked myself up
Mended myself
And, everything since
Has been cake..
I've been trying to tell you
Not everything is about you
I write to express myself
But,
For you to take it all so personally..
I was here long before you found me
I tried to go away
And,
Your response was
'What happened...You'
I don't know what's going on with you
Change of heart, change of mind,
But
The LAST thing I would do
Is hold this..
Whatever it was
Against you..
We both participated
To an extent
And, you have to admit I wasn't the one who started it
I don't even know how I let you in
I'm pretty good at keeping my walls up
Oh, that's right
You researched me
'All Quite on the Western Front'.. Indeed
But, I don't think I've done anything but carry myself with decorum
If I hadn't, by now, you'd know where my birth mark is
As for everything else
LIKE I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU
NO Worries
However, for appearance sake
All I ask
Is we continue to act like friends
You do what you need to do
I can't believe that you would think I would impose myself on you,
Seriously?
And,
You think I have a big head? ? ?
I'm hoping this clarifies things for you
And, you can breathe
And, stop freaking out, or whatever it is your doing
You forget.. I understand
I can LOL..'Never Go Home Again'
I'm the one who wrote it
I'm the one with the minor in English
So,
No need to beat me over the head with it
The only thing that pi**es me off,
Is you would think I would be that desperate
That, I couldn't let it go
Seriously?
If you recall..I was the one who stopped all correspondence
You were the one with the curiosity
So,
I guess this time it's better
Because it's on your terms..
Anyway,
Good luck with everything.
Peace.
poem by Rabia Minhas
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