Sitting in the Middle of Situations Disbelieved
Sitting in the middle,
Of situations disbelieved,
But...
I am slowly adjusting.
Listening to the people,
Quibbling over trivia...
Reduced to bits and pieces,
In discussions rusting...
Over the benefits of broccoli and peas,
Is not for me,
Transforming.
Who's life is invested in this mess manifested?
And why is all of this,
Just a sickening tease.
When so many homeless and hungry...
Continue to go unfed and forced to plead.
Sitting in the middle,
Of situations disbelieved,
But...
I am slowly adjusting.
Am I the only one observing,
A hopelessness regarded...
As a myth and fantasy?
Who's life is invested in this mess manifested?
And why is all of this,
Just a sickening tease.
When so many homeless and hungry...
Continue to go unfed and forced to plead.
A caring done has been lost in squabbles.
Depleting without ceasing,
From an increase of mental instabilities.
A caring done has been tossed to the curb,
As a squeezing from humanity...
Exposes a uselessness felt from those of dignity.
And we...
You and me become completely restricted,
To an acceptance placed before us...
Of a devalued way of life,
Others unconscious declare as their victory.
With an expectation we become use to managing,
An observation that increases...
The sight of insanities.
Delivered by all who are persuaded....
This standard of life 'is' our destiny.
With a fear to be censored,
If we objected with a 'B.S.' expressed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
By All Means... Continue Your Tease
When an admission of caring for another,
Begins for the other...
A reason to establish a game of playing,
'Let Me See You Chase'.
Such a mistake this becomes,
For the one believing...
To be chased makes one's heart race.
With a pacing done in an excitement.
An admission of caring for another,
The other may not realize can be stopped.
To be replaced.
Especially if something felt is genuine.
With an awakening that creates,
An acknowledgement that comes much too late...
That the one who runs away from someone's caring done,
May find themselves with a gift the other does not get!
With far less exhaustion to give in the giving that ends.
'I thought you said you liked me.'
Oh I did with a caring done too.
But prepared for a marathon in the proving of it,
Is not what I give in the expectation in establishing...
A relationship.
'So you don't like me anymore? '
I cared for 'you' not the 'race' you wanted to see me win,
In a chase.
'I was just teasing...
That's all.'
You may be good.
Continue the tease.
However...
Someone else will find that out before I will,
Wont they?
And it will not be me.
By all means...
Continue your tease.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Beauty That Has Ceased To Flourish
I am Black...
AND patriotic.
When I say it,
It is disbelieved.
This country has more meaning to me,
Than depleting it with deception.
Or stuffing myself with greed.
As a child I was taught principles I respect.
And when I joined the military,
I was a 'kid' willing to give my life to protect.
And not one person can deny,
I have not shown to do my best.
I've been a victim of disparities.
Racism and neglect.
And I've been declared overqualified,
By those who 'gave' positions...
To those who couldn't pass tests.
Did I get upset?
Yes...
Of course.
But I could never express to anyone,
My life is filled paying attention to hatred.
OR that I feel resentment,
By those who wish me a life of remorse.
I've divorced myself from those fools!
Whatever their color is, was...
Or whatever their designated pretentions.
I've learned that ignorance,
Has many coverings disguising it!
I am Black...
AND patriotic.
When I say it,
It is disbelieved.
This country has more meaning to me,
Than depleting it with deception.
Or stuffing myself with greed.
And it is sad to see,
Hypocrisy destroy...
A beauty that has ceased to flourish.
And investments in humanity,
Become excuses to feed ill mentalities.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hand To The Plow,2011
sitting outside this morning,
watching it rain.... gathering,
gathering strength from i
know not where...
seems like we're not making
any headway... teetering on
the edge of survival...
this year especially tough...
get it up, get it on...
put your hand to the plow!
all around us people,
all different knids of people,
but people... are struggling,
are in need, are in want....
we are a disjointed family,
watching each other sink!
we have got to become aware,
to break down the walls of division...
the only way out is together...
what we have we have to share!
but there can be no more 'me'
and 'i'... no more self oriented
delusions... we cannot follow greed.
we have to turn our weapons
of destruction into shovels and hoes.
we have to join hands, and do it now.
if you're hungry, i'm hungry!
if you're homeless, i'm homeless!
no more apathy, no more doing nothing!
put your hands to the plow! ....
or get out of the way!
life demands hard working involvement!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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What Life Demands I Be!
if i wake up in the morning,
and the guns of war are silent.
if the hungry bowls are filled,
and the homeless have a place to lay down.
if all people are treated equally,
regardless of color, religion, or beliefs.
if dignity be restored to the common man.
if men and women respect each other,
and the art of living is just that.
if forgiveness comes as easy as breathing,
and caring becomes the way...
then i will know this journey is over,
and will lay down in perfect peace.
if not....
i will wake up standing,
fighting, believing, singing....
i will be what life demands i be!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Just Cant!
you cannot believe in God,
and continue to live in a way
that abuses the living,
that takes from those in need,
that turns its back on those hurting,
that uses people for profit!
that walks away from the hungry,
closes the door on the homeless,
that looks at diverse people
with prejudice...
that kills under any flag!
you just cant...
life itself is sacred!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What white man has ever seen me drunk? Who has ever come to me hungry and left me unfed? Who has seen me beat my wives or abuse my children? What law have I broken?
quote by Sitting Bull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Broken Road of My Life
I am sitting here,
watching my life go by me.
Faces pass, people come and go.
My life is going down a completely different road.
Down the broken road.
My life has completely fallen apart.
There is no stopping it.
I try to pick up the pieces again and again,
but nothing seems to work.
There is nothing left of my heart.
I don't feel love.
I don't feel happiness.
I feel nothing.
There is no reason for me
to continue to live.
I have nothing more to live for.
Why must people break me down inside,
right to the very core?
I don't feel pain.
I don't feel misery.
I don't feel anything.
Even if people say it will be alright
still I hear myself say,
'I want to end my life! '
But now it is too late to turn back.
I can't stop going down the broken road.
My life means nothing,
it just seems to go zooming by
while my body is left behind.
This is the broken road of my life!
poem by Jaana Coon
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Sitting In The Middle Of It
My heart feels like it's split open wide and bleeding.
As I'm sitting in the middle of it.
Nothing I had lived prepared me for what I had to see.
As I'm,
Sitting in the middle of it.
I do feel guilty.
I am no saint.
I am not trying to hide away,
What it is that I'm feeling.
I do feel guilty.
I am no saint.
I am not trying to hide away,
What it is that I'm feeling.
Sitting in the middle of it...
I am no saint.
I'm not trying to hide away,
What it is that I'm feeling.
Sitting in the middle of it...
I do feel guilty.
But I'll never hide away from you...
My feelings.
Sitting in the middle of it...
I do feel guilty.
But I'll never hide away from you...
My feelings.
Sitting in the middle of it...
I am no saint.
And I'll never hide from you...
My feelings.
And I'll,
Never hide from you...
My feelings.
And I'll,
Never hide from you...
My feelings.
Sitting in the middle of it.
Sitting in the middle of it,
And I'm...
Sitting in the middle of it.
Sitting in the middle of it,
And I'm...
Sitting in the middle of it.
Sitting in the middle of it,
And I'm...
Sitting in the middle of it.
And I'm...
Sitting in the middle of it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Life
I speak the truth, but not to the extreme
This year seems so make-believe
Joking around about a “marriage pencil”
That doesn’t really exist
Then joking around about his love for her
That no one can really miss
This life, in middle school
Come,
Stick around, but don’t mess with the flow
This life, we’re all here today
We’ll stay for a while, then come away
With this life, in middle school
Come,
Stick around, but don’t mess with the flow
Have a heart, don’t break him down
Don’t just jump off the merry-go-round
Either push him away gently, or take his hand for life
Yet no one stands a chance against our dynamite
Unaddressed
To be who it is someone claims to be,
Takes courage.
Little of what one says they are,
Is nourished to be encouraged.
People fear rejection.
Or a close inspection that upsets.
Instead of being happy with self confidence...
Some choose to seek approval,
With an acceptance of their footsteps.
Could this be connected,
To the mess that is today reflected?
With so much nonsense gone unaddressed...
And groups collecting to blame others,
For the lack of shown respect.
And satisfied to express in silence...
Their disappointing druthers to confess.
While a condoning of this continues to expose,
People who wish a quality of life to exist...
But caring less they produce an atmosphere of misfits.
And down the gutters their standards 'high browed'
Are watched like bystanders as this is slowly being disposed!
Allowed!
However...
Heard in heated discussions is the significance of this!
Everyone wants to project they are equipped with intelligence.
With resumés to prove they have the schooling and experience.
But for what?
To observe from glass towers eating hors d'oeuvres?
While below their own butts are being guttered?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Delivered To A Place That Dispenses Wings
Let's not carry on our backs,
Accepted agonies anticipated.
Let's take steps to rid ourselves,
Of those deficiencies...
We were led to believe,
Were birth marks to confirm...
As inspected.
And told they'd be there with us,
For the rest of our lives.
With a tolerance of them...
While others kept us suppressed.
As we continue to solicit,
A disrespecting done of our identities.
There is a need to awaken,
From this mental disease.
Let's not carry on our backs,
Accepted agonies anticipated.
Let's take steps to rid ourselves,
Of those deficiencies...
We were led to believe,
Were birth marks to confirm...
As inspected.
Well...
They are not,
Brandings of birth marks.
They are implications we kept...
With an expectation,
That one day if we stayed praying...
We would be delivered to a place,
That dispenses wings!
Dieing is a process!
Living the gift of life is a determination...
Some have refused to do,
Without the approval of acceptance.
From those sought to impress.
And if anyone has a need to ask,
To live a life that has been divinely given...
A praying done,
Is an unconscious routine.
Much like feeding an expectation,
That does not with 'intention' connect to the 'source'...
Through the doing of the process of living one's life!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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5
Falling apart
I'm sickening
I'm sickening
Losing my heart
I'm sickening
I'm sickening
Retract
Trying to forget
Trying to protect
5
Crawling this far
I'm sickening
I'm sickening
Soiled and scarred
I'm sickening
I'm sickening
Retract
Lying to subject
Dying to collect
5
I'm coming apart
Finally
Maybe this time I'll forget about you
I've tried
But you keep coming back
Retract
5
I'm coming apart
song performed by by Ultraspank
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Delivered From Misfit Lips
No wish to contradict,
Conflicting hypocrites.
Or critics who depict and sit...
With statistics that predict,
Passing judgements placed...
Where they see fit,
Has long lasting benefits!
More are observing this as sick.
As the quality of life,
Slowly tilts and dips.
While spies hide undercover...
Getting tips from lieing gossips!
And they are swallowed in ignorance,
Caring less to be aware of any of this!
As all sinks to a nothingness,
Based on flourished nonsense...
That nourished dysfunctions,
Delivered from misfit lips!
And this 'reality' provides no exit,
For those left sheltered believing...
They sanely hold onto a consciousness!
And little do 'they' know,
They are pieces of every bit.
Every bit surrounding them...
They see for them unfit!
There is no where for them to go.
No where here to escape from it!
The shallowness they wish to be lifted...
Can not be chased,
Or beatened to submission!
Since this discomfort that visits them now,
Has been given much of their attention!
Ridding it when this first came,
Was never between them ever mentioned!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bloody Mess
shes left in the middle of the room,
beaten and broken,
she crys out in the night,
no one around,
to say its alright,
shes bleeding from unknown places,
she passes out in the bloody mess,
her husband gone,
never to return,
she lays there slowly bleeding out,
the baby inside her,
no longer alive,
her husband killed her and left a bloody mess,
with tears and blood stained to her face,
she gave her life,
for her husbands bloody mess
poem by Alicia Roseberry
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Victim to persecution
Then you talk a little more about your dreams,
How it involves your thought of rings,
a little more about your needs,
for i bit my tounge,
just for a feed,
for you drag me in the street,
ask me to forgive your mistakes,
put me in misery from your plea,
as i buckle from my knees,
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,
but what was it like?
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,
It's perjury on your arm,
that was put there by your soul,
your feeling sorry, for not achieving your goals,
tacking in your argument,
as you stated with your thought,
you bring me down,
and destroy my heart,
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,
but what was it like?
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,
Asking which way is out,
Asking which was not as hard,
Misdirected in your final mount,
as you shout,
cry your lungs out to stay afloat,
yet push me under,
strain to be felt,
pushing me down, holding my throat,
I started to feel the black,
and evil you call your safety boat,
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,
but what was it like?
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,
toss in the rope, pull it tight,
you might be something,
but what was it like?
examining it close,
you cross your path,
just get it right,
asking for the sight,
to see your destination,
falling victim,
to persecution,
put on a trial,
to discover if your human,
for your life,
failing to corruption,
of your mind,
sorry about how you felt,
but do you know yourself?
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,
but what was it like?
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
poem by Matthew Boisjolie
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A Buddhist Christmas
sitting on the bed
with my old blind dog...
breathing in, breathing out...
breathing in suffering,
all the suffering of the hungry,
the homeless, those in prison....
those ravaged by war....
of the lonely, those filled with despair,
the angry, the fearful, the lost....
breathing in deeply,
wrapping it all in snowlike stillness...
and then breathing out....
breathing out compassion,
total, unconditional, free compassion...
the oneness that feels every feeling,
hurts with every hurt,
prays with every need....
not judging, not holding back,
asking for nothing in return...
just breathing out....
and listening with gratitude
to the heartbeat of my faithful dog...
to the heartbeats of all that live...
lost inside life itself!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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So Many Poor Souls And Not Many Who Care
So many poor souls and not many who care
Are doing it quite tough in the big World out there
The homeless and hungry teenagers of poverty street
Are searching in rubbish bins for something to eat
The gap is increasing in the social divide
And millions are Stateless and Homeless and hungry World wide
The victims of droughts and wars and disease
In the refugee camps millions of refugees.
The marginalized are doing it quite tough
On poverty street they are sleeping rough
People should not have to go hungry in the World of today
But such is not the case that does seem sad to say
For one wealthy person thousands in poverty
Those who need far more than words of sympathy
People who look old before they reach their life's prime
To be born to poor parents is their only crime.
poem by Francis Duggan
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In Many Ways
Of elite athletes, celebrities and the rich and famous the praises you will hear so many sing
But they are mortals they don't live forever for human life is a temporary thing
All I ask of life is to be happy just for the remainder of my life span
It would be nice to grow old free of sadness and die painless in my sleep a happy man
In many ways I do feel very lucky when my lot in life with others I compare
So many people poor, hungry and Homeless and Stateless in the bigger World out there
What they would give to be lucky as I am at least I have a roof above my head
So many poor and hungry and sad people who sad to say feel envious of the dead
So many poor people in refugee camps they are the people of no fixed abode
The victims of Warlords and droughts and famines their life journey has been a hard old road
'Tis sad to think of the sadness all around us the Homeless children of poverty street
Who search in rubbish bins in the dark alleys for food that others have refused to eat
In many ways I do feel very lucky so many people far worse off than me
In the bigger World out there much want and sadness and many people live in poverty.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Incredibly Unbelievable
Whenever has it been that something disbelieved,
To be unbelievable...
Was more attention grabbing,
Than that which no one can be convinced...
Is more real than their acceptance of 'reality' defended.
Or the 'reality' that has led to the feeding,
Of that which is perceived to be of a quality...
One should and can believe.
And that which is disbelieved,
Is observed for what it is...
Incredibly unbelievable,
As witnessed to be disbelieved.
'You're back on crack, huh? '
Back?
I do not do drugs.
'Well...
Whatever it is that you do 'do',
You could make a fortune selling that!
'Cause this stuff you are 'rapping'...
Is 'cosmic'.
And you say you don't do drugs?
I find 'that' to be,
Incredibly unbelievable.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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~life Is~
What is life is it candy
What is life can you reach inside
and pull something out
what is life sitting around for
a man or women to
complete you
what is life~
Life is fullfilling your dreams
becoming something
people that you
would never become
Life is over achiving something
being perpared for what ever hits you
Life is knowing what you want in life
never take any one for granted
Life is taking things into your hands
Life is about having fun and not sitting around
Life is also a box of chocolate because you never
know what your going to get
Life is about being your self
not doing what you see people do on t.v
Life is about B.L.E.I.V.I.N.G in yourself
and not just that in GOD also because you and him
is a powerful match
you can never be stoped or slowed down
That is what LIFE is all about
poem by Chelsy Loyd
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