So Many Caring Less
I have a respect for accepted correctness.
With a doing of my best,
To give from me what is expected.
Although I must confess,
In doing that which I wish to achieve...
There seems to be so many caring less,
As to how others they mistreat...
But want for themselves shown no neglect.
With an attention given to them as if they were royalty.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Best Love Yet To Get
There is one disadvantage,
In being a part of a large family.
Or inter-related like many who confess it.
There will be more than a few believing,
They are deserving of getting attention.
With a love to them individually expressed.
And those who have accepted life as it is...
Have learned to give love without attention given,
Because with them it is love they feel.
And this is what they give to others regardless.
Since God has already give them all the attention,
And this love once known is the best love yet to get.
Although some with insecurities will feel a need,
To call attention upon themselves.
For whatever those reasons...
To appease and satisfy their mental weaknesses.
Thank God the trees aren't jealous of their branches.
Or the leaves sprouting from them which are nourished.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Never Accepted What Their Eyes Have Shown
Something in their heads,
Have them programmed to believe...
They should not respect themselves.
Or expect they can and could achieve.
Something missing in their heads,
Should have connected them to a maturity.
Something that recognized,
Who should be responsible...
And accountable for their activities.
Something in their minds,
Should have made eye contact with themselves.
Something said or they did not see...
A reflection of themselves yet!
One accepted and believed.
Something has left.
And will never return.
Something that should have been taught.
But for them,
Never to be learned!
And that is why they hide from themselves.
They dislike and despise what they see!
And they have never accepted,
What their eyes have shown!
They are afraid to be who they are.
Even alone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Offended And Upset
People have become too complacent.
With a caring not to listen.
Or a caring done to comprehend!
Believing a sleepwalk exercised...
Through rituals and symbolic traditions,
Would appease the majestic mentalities...
That brought them to experience,
Lives they live here on Earth.
A respect not shown,
Is awakening those with a selfish consciousness.
The disrespect shown to one another...
Has more than just neighbors complaining,
About this thoughtlessness.
Guess what else,
Has been offended and upset?
With no patience left...
For anyone to get their act together!
If anyone has not yet accepted,
The depth of their connected realities...
Soon will discover their beliefs to be dispensible.
Since we have been the welcomed guests!
Not the 'creators' of what we believe,
Can be easily deceived.
WE are not the creators of what we see,
That has allowed us to leech...
Maniputively!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Haunted By My Own
Haunted by my own.
Haunted by a bloodline...
My ancestors have sewn.
And I confess...
My obsession to do my best!
This wont leave me alone.
I feel I am here,
To make their voices known.
I can not neglect a moment of respect.
To be perceived as a disrespect.
I must protect and protest indignities!
Haunted by my own.
Haunted by a bloodline...
My ancestors have sewn.
And I confess...
The challenge to please them,
Leaves me restless to achieve.
To heights of a success...
That will have all believe I have succeeded.
And my ancestors can attest,
I have done them well!
Although my haunting will continue,
Since they and I are not quite through...
To convince with proof what I am here to do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Obviousness Of Improprieties
Politically speaking,
How much correctness is left?
How much of it is there,
Yet to still be addressed?
And politically speaking...
Where are those willing to confess,
The business of their politics,
Whether right or left inspected...
Has spent too much time,
On addressing correctness.
A tremendous mess that has been left,
No longer impresses...
Those most affected,
By the obviousness of improprieties.
And,
Politically speaking...
Who is monitoring the effectiveness,
Shown to have been neglected.
And reflects upon a declining of a social etiquette.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Neglect Does Not Encourage Nourishment
What gives you the right to expect respect,
When none from you has been shown or given.
There is a give and take one most learn to tolerate.
Neglect does not encourage nourishment,
For any champion seeking to bloom.
What are you here to offer?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Respect Parents.......
RESPECT YOUR MOM AND DAD;
IF NOT, THEN YOUR FUTURE WILL BE BAD.
AND YOU WILL ALWAYS REMAIN SAD.
YOU GIVE RESPECT, THEY WILL GIVE YOU BLESSINGS;
AND YOU WILL BECOME THE KING.
THIS IS THE FACT;
NOW, IF YOU WILL NEGLECT;
AND DON'T GIVE THEM RESPECT;
THEN AFTER SOME TIME YOU WILL REGRET.
THEY CAN BE YOUNG OR OLD;
AND THEY ALWAYS CARRY YOUR LOAD.
SO, WE SHOULD ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT
THEY ARE OUR SECOND GOD.
YOU CAN BE SIKH, HINDU, MUSLIM OR JAIN;
FIRSTLY YOU SHOULD BE A GOOD MAN.
poem by Jagmeet Singh
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No Respect
Respect,
Always everybody looking for some
Respect,
Who do you think youre gonna get it from
Respect,
Anybody here deserving of none
Respect,
Tell me what makes you think
Youre not the one
No respect, no respect none
No respect, no respect none
No respect, no respect none
No respect, no respect none
Respect,
Why be concerned with
Public adulation
Respect,
Pat on the back crying
For attention
Respect,
Finding out what it really
Means to me
Respect,
Honor comes only after
Humility
song performed by by Extreme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Exist For No Other Purpose
I am asked to give my support,
For this cause and that.
And for reasons I should not reject.
But I have needs myself...
Few have given attention to mention.
And even though I am blessed,
I do regret not being shown respect...
By those who suspect,
I exist for no other purpose but to give...
What it is I've got to be forgotten.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Introduces Suspicion
Why is it,
People minding their own business...
Are today the ones suspect?
And they are the very same people,
Who wanted to give of themselves...
With interest and a self respect.
The very same people,
Others chose to disregard and reject.
And now those who once gave,
Of themselves to neglect...
Have decided to mind their own business.
And they have become the ones,
Focused upon...
As if their doings,
Will bring them too much attention.
And this introduces suspicion...
Since their peaceful existence,
Poses to others...
With innuendos whispered,
That those with peace of mind...
Should be considered by others as threats!
Even making a decision to mind one's business,
Gives others to feel there is a reason...
To have none of their own.
And the evidence of that is shown.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Never Together Again
I am not like you,
And you are just like that.
How can you demand,
When I've asked from you something?
I don't think I should command.
Or expect respect.
That should be given.
Of that I do not neglect.
And you expect it?
When you neglect it?
I am not like you,
And you are just like that.
I try to be hospitable.
I don't welcome with attacks.
To bite and then regret.
To greet and meet to leave upset.
I am not like you.
I welcome not condescend.
Nor do I solicit attention,
To be focused on me.
Using that as a forum,
To exploit me on the scene.
I am not like you.
I could never be like that.
But I can be quite indignant,
When I learn I've been scandalized...
Behind my back,
By you.
I am not like you,
And you are just like that.
Bitter.
And unable to forgive.
Baiting to become the center of attention.
And using me as the subject,
Of your sorrows.
I am not you,
But you are just like that.
And that is why you and I,
Have no tomorrows...
To await for apologies to soothe.
With alibis and excuses too.
I am not you,
But you are just like that.
And that is why you and I,
Could never experience another forever,
Ever together,
Again.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lords Glory
clap your hands and praise the lord
clap your hands and sing a song.
give thanks and praise to the one above
he has given and shown us love.
when we are down and out
he picks us up and makes us shout.
all that he asks is that we praise his name
and the change in our lives will never be the same
give of yourself all that you can give
for a better life to live.
we must live in a world where there is no fear
and the lords word is everywhere.
where people learn to respect, instead of neglect
all that god created.
this is the way it was meant to be
to live with respect and dignity.
we must praise the lords glory
and spread the word of his story.
poem by Louis Rams
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Magnified Chrystal Balling
Boys play.
And in play...
A bravado is accepted.
And willfully on constant display.
With a show of fearlessness shown,
By the one selected and chosen to lead.
And that one accustomed to getting things done,
Has to express independence and confidence.
Sometimes at the risk of exposing a humanness.
And achieving less than those observing,
From the sidelines expect.
When doubts about direction begin to be expressed.
This upsets,
Those with victories to achieve on their breaths.
Tight lipped bravery is what arnchair warriors respect.
But emotions one dares to expose on one's sleeve,
Contradicts a magnified Chyrstal balling.
Appalling those wishing to see,
Confetti and cheering with smiles in magazines.
'Has he been up to the task,
Is all that matters.
Who amongst you have dug the ditches,
Or crawled through trenches...
To affect expectations? '
Boys play.
And in play...
A bravado is accepted.
And willfully on constant display.
With a show of fearlessness shown,
By the one selected and chosen to lead.
In play!
War...
Or in peace to keep unthreatened.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Those Most Dependable
Those most dependable,
Are not the ones we show...
A giving of respect.
They're often people we neglect.
Those most dependable,
Are not the ones we show...
A giving of respect.
They're often people we neglect.
We take for granted when we panic,
Those who'll fix our needs.
And when they've finished doing that,
We don't show them we're pleased.
Those most dependable,
Are not the ones we show...
A giving of respect.
They're often people we neglect.
And on them we're dependent,
But we choose them to offend.
We think of them to think of us,
When daylight comes until it ends.
Those most dependable,
Are not the ones we show...
A giving of respect.
They're often people we neglect.
We take for granted when we panic,
Those who'll fix our needs.
And when they've finished doing that,
We don't show them we're pleased.
The most dependable...
Are often people we neglect.
The most dependable...
Are often people we neglect.
The most dependable...
Are often those we disrespect.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Half Mast Flags
What was,
Maybe the 'is' we celebrate.
But the 'now' we live,
Deserves much more attention...
Then we give it!
To decide that a time that leaves...
And greatly taken for granted,
In a quick reflected assessment.
Has less than an impact than it does.
Is a neglect.
Although in ceremonies we respect,
There is a praising of ourselves.
With impressive feelings aroused.
And conducted in a pomp...
We circumspect in a masking of opulence.
And consciously under appreciated,
Are those moments we share...
And currently breathe!
There is a disbelief...
Too commonly discussed.
With a purpose to achieve it.
Displeased about something,
That should pleasure.
But doesn't measure up,
To those high standards...
We have allowed to fall down.
Stays fixed around our daily movements.
And yet expect,
We do...
Those half mast flags to flow,
In honorable breezes that capture imaginations.
As we stand in devoted silence.
With donations of lust in our minds to deliver.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Doubters
It is the level of expectation,
One must achieve...
To gain that respect,
From those who can only reflect...
Upon some self importance,
Believed...
Another gets and expects,
From gratifying accolades made.
And is proud of what one does.
And..
Is proud,
Of what has been done!
To some...
With a sign that is shown.
To others...
Perhaps a perception,
Of one keeping silent a conceit.
And giving no attention to the doubters...
Who will always remain who they are.
Doubters with beliefs,
Their expectations have to be fulfilled...
To pass along positive and assuring comments,
That allows the doubt and the judgement of critique...
A nod of approval to bestow.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Posers and a Poseur
Posers and a poseur
The “ Princess” came from peasant stock
Which some would find to be a shock.
Her title was a fantasy
which was accepted readily.
By those who fawn on Royalty
The cream of high society,
who swallowed her flamboyant lies.
The may be rich but they’re not wise.
Her bold charade she could achieve
because they wanted to believe
They could hobnob with Royalty.
Just fools behaving foolishly
The took her as their protégée.
Which suited her admirably,
she took society by storm.
A rebel who would not conform.
I won’t reveal the lady’s name.
She is a winner in life’s game.
Her secrets known to just a few
They will not tell, they dare not do.
It would reveal stupidity
they do not want the world to see.
Which goes to show that you can do
almost anything you dare to.
The “Princess “wins the posers lose
and all because they do not choose.
To let the world know honestly
that they were fooled so easily.
3-Oct-08
http: // b; og.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Wished In Retrospect
How legitimate can contributions,
Of a poet made can be?
If comparisons are made to another poet,
Who spoke from a time...
When poets expressed themselves,
From a different philosophy...
That occurred in a past be gone history.
I always accepted poetry to be commentaries,
Of that which depicted activities existing.
But there are those who today compare,
A cobbledstoned road of yesteryear...
To a highway today needing constant updating.
Since those who travel on it...
Have mentioned little interest,
Of using a covered horsedrawn wagon!
And most people afraid,
Will always attempt to validate nonsense.
Since this nonsense becomes romanticized...
As a time when exquisite etiquette was expressed,
As wished in retrospect...
By those whose ancestors were highly illiterate.
And lived amongst themselves in a welcomed ignorance.
And some like me are today told...
Our poetry is not European,
Therefore the quality of it...
Will never achieve exquisiteness.
And I sit to compose caring less,
About comments made by those...
Who have chosen themselves,
As images of correctness...
When generations of them,
Have chosen to digress!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Are Those Who Are the Exception
Do you honestly believe,
That saying things derogatory
About anyone...
Will suddenly be erased,
With a few apologies?
And a forgiveness done that is forgotten?
Let me introduce myself.
Since your approach to life,
Is a little different from mine.
How many things have you done,
That were 'unconsciously' intended?
None?
Me either.
In fact...
I doubt if that is possible.
So often,
Apologies are expected to be accepted!
That's why my approach to life,
Is to snap someone awake...
The moment my toes are stepped on.
And I do my best to inflict similar pain.
This 'turn-the-other-cheek-business'?
I'm just not into.
People know exactly what they do,
When they do it!
Under the influence of alcohol.
Or flying high on weed.
So often,
Apologies are expected to be accepted!
And there are those who are the exception.
They have feelings connected to emotions...
That are at stake.
And mistakes at their expense is not for-give-able!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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An Addiction To Self Hatred
People who make excuses for themselves,
Will always seek opportunities...
To cry out injustices against them have been made.
But a lack of discipline and respect shown,
To themselves and others...
Have been condoned to take a backseat,
To allow their self inflicted indignities heard...
With a loud outspoken outreach of this served.
As they continue not to listen and react like beasts,
While continuing the act to despise their own kind.
With an expectation of this sought and taught to keep.
And programmed they are to have this kind of mind,
While confined to limitations worshipped to abuse...
An addiction to self hatred uncompromised to diffuse.
Or... be moved from depths of this ignorance accepted.
Since a tolerance of it has been protected as a reward,
To achieve as a reflection of who and what is represented.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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