Soaking In the Wrong Detergent
You've been seeking a cleansing.
While soaking in the wrong detergent.
You've been spinning in cycles...
Meant to dry.
But you have yet to get your consciousness wet.
There is an experience you would like to receive.
But refuse to let your brainwashing go.
And that is not easily achieved.
Although this should be welcomed,
As your best bet never to regret.
You've got to drain to begin to gain.
To thoroughly realize any kind of brightness.
Removing all the tainting stains that remain.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Remember, Faith Saves
Grab some time to be alone.
Rest your mind...
And put aside your anguish.
Don't condone,
Or savor despair.
Don't try to own it!
Leave it there.
Remember,
Faith saves.
Remember,
Faith saves.
Remember...
Keep your belief,
You can and will receive peace.
As much as you need.
Faith saves.
Whatever reasons that are there...
To magnify your sorrows.
Sunshine tomorrow comes.
If you allow it to be welcomed.
Troubles are meant to sit.
Like any obstacle that comes...
Wishing you not to get over it.
Unless you wish your problems to remain...
Like a pain that is given attention to drain.
With your wish to claim it in repeated complaints.
Remember,
Faith saves.
Remember,
Faith saves.
Remember...
Keep your belief,
You can and will receive peace.
As much as you need.
Faith saves.
Whatever reasons that are there...
To magnify your sorrows.
Sunshine tomorrow comes.
If you allow it to be welcomed.
Grab some time to be alone.
Rest your mind...
And put aside your anguish.
Don't condone,
Or savor despair.
Don't try to own it!
Leave it there.
Remember,
Faith saves.
Remember...
Keep your belief,
You can and will receive peace.
As much as you need.
Faith saves.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Dreams Within Us Start
So fragile is the mind that seeks,
A peace that seems so out of reach.
So impatient does one like this become...
When a bitterness sits,
To feel invited and welcomed.
And seeking from outside ourselves,
Is a journey never ending.
What is wished already exists.
But our hearts overlook this,
In a desperate yearning.
So fragile is the mind that seeks,
A peace that seems so out of reach.
If we just stop to quiet our desires.
We will realize we have not kindled...
A motivation to inspire,
Those dreams that are our own...
Left for someone else to come to spark!
And that is not the way,
Our dreams within us start!
So fragile is the mind that seeks,
A peace that seems so out of reach.
And we keep this seeking beseeched to plead...
To be fed!
Yet remain so out of touch!
Misunderstanding this need within us,
We can begin to feed in concentrated prayer.
If we spent more time being there,
In it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Circular Zones
We are the prisoners,
Dwell in the cycles,
We are frightened to peep,
Peer out of them.
What a strange experience it is!
To journey in the rings,
We stop wherefrom we begin,
Journeying not a single inch,
Like an ox rounding the persian wheel
With the bandage upon the eyes.
When we are trapped in the cycles,
They become the whole universe,
The ensnared spend the whole life,
Amid the troubles,
Deployed around the ring.
It is tragedy of the age, so-called modern,
We all have fixed ourselves,
Our minds and thoughts in the cycles,
And dare not peek out afar,
Into the calamities of others,
Dwelling in other circular zones.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Know It, And It Is Done
Stop feeding yourself discouragement.
That is not the purpose,
Why you are meant to live.
Removing yourself from entrapments,
Of failure...
Opens your heart,
To receive goodness.
And that you in return,
Without thought...
Will come to learn to give!
Stop listening to those in self defeat.
Those who solicit others,
To understand their limitations.
Recognize their wish,
To unseat you from your comfort.
Your peace of mind,
You can not afford to just dismiss.
Sit in quietness!
Allow a clearness to come.
Remove yourself from calamities,
That seem to attract everyone.
Tell yourself you are deserving,
Of happiness and love.
Tell yourself that!
And know that is true.
You are not here to bear,
The burdens of anyone.
Undo it and be through!
Stop feeding yourself discouragement.
That is not the purpose,
Why you are meant to live.
Removing yourself from entrapments,
Of failure...
Opens your heart,
To receive goodness.
And that you in return,
Without thought...
Will come to learn to give!
You are not here to spite life at all.
In fact...
You have the right,
To be excited.
To explore a life delighted.
And that is why...
Your life is here to be lived!
Know it,
And it is done!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nothing Nibbled Is Permanent
Live as if life is meant to give.
And...
That life we all have has 'already' been given.
Take as if rewarded for deeds achieved.
And...
Pleased with a life lived is guaranteed.
However...
One breathing daily the breath of life,
Seeking the fulfillment of promises others make...
May become disappointed by the length of the wait,
As frustrations become more the experience...
Of one's delayed expectation.
And,
Unfortunately...
For those living like this,
A complaint department does not exist!
So...
Live as if life is meant to give.
And...
That life we all have has 'already' been given.
Just know this...
Those prepared to taste the texture of cupcakes,
May have to settle for sour lemondrops as a replacement...
Now and then!
Remember...
Nothing nibbled is permanent.
Whether enjoyed or not!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Before Hints Of Appearances Of It
What we have here,
Is a tale of two mindsets.
One believes it can and will do,
What it chooses and pleases to.
While the other seeks to rule and dominate,
The fate of human existence.
Both have put the experience of consciousness,
At risk.
And both reside in the same brain,
That has welcomed insanity as a way of life.
Likened to the giving to kids,
Authority to play with matches...
In a warehouse full of dynamite.
With an accepted dichotomy,
That squeezes to eliminate...
Any remnants of common sense.
Before hints of appearances of it begin to threaten.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In Declarations They've Originated
Is it possible that an achieved fantasticness,
Will ever be accredited to the one who has introduced it?
Or will those remain to connect a dollar from it to lift.
In declarations they've originated,
What someone else has toiled to create.
Although their participating inventiveness,
Continues to receive no acknowledgement...
Or a recognizable benefit that is expressed.
Yet actively suppressed.
Is it possible that an achieved fantasticness,
Will ever be accredited to the one who has introduced it?
Or will those remain to connect a dollar from it to lift.
Showing themselves to have no innovative spirit.
Or one that ever existed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Intimate Since We Met
Intimate since we met.
With no mention of it intended.
And feeling free not to defend it,
To experience this without regret.
It was as if this was meant to be.
A meeting of coincidence...
That began for us so innocent.
And intimate since we met.
A magnetic attraction we cemented.
First with our eyes,
Then to our surprise we kissed.
Feeling that tingle between us,
With a need to be together...
To explore more of it!
And we have been intimate,
Since we met.
With no mention of it intended.
And feeling free not to defend it!
To experience this without regret.
So blessed we are,
To share this added spice.
That increases in our happiness,
Each of us knew.
But did not expect...
Could reach and climb to further heights.
None that we dreamed of.
Or planned to invite.
Intimate since we met.
With no mention of it intended.
And feeling free not to defend it,
To experience this without regret.
It was as if this was meant to be.
A meeting of coincidence...
That began for us so innocent.
And did not expect...
When we met,
Could reach and climb to further heights.
Further with no intention...
To be this intimate,
Like this intimacy we have is meant.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Know How To Mix The Oil And The Water
between the oil and the water
put the soap
or the common detergent
that is how they do it
in poetry it is not easy
to mix the oily feelings with the watery ones
and it is hard to check
which detergent to use
what is it that is having poetic sense?
between them and you
how do you get well along the lines of poetry?
who is the water and who is the oil?
and who is the detergent among the metaphors
and the similes?
takes time really.
at first we keep on writing these nonsense comparisons
trying to tell which one is best, better and good
which one is worse
but sooner you realize that this has nothing to do with comparisons
it has only something to do with the clicking of the right switch
to give light
to the dark room where we live, to give the sound of the singing bird,
to give that hush, to make us sleep soundly
on a soft pillow, and then dream in another world
where we do not talk but merely observe how the colors float
how they pass us by
and we are nothing but spectators always wanting to have no part
in everything
and that precisely is the light feeling
that makes the click
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Complete Circle Oh!
Attaining the full domain
Seeking one's will, would fain
Raising and floating, loaded as a wain
Go round and gain, which stays to remain
World changes every now and then
Happens to be the core of concern
Who knows where, why, how and when?
But Nature teaches what's meant to learn!
One way or the other, life's cycle goes on
Everything moves on and goes on
poem by Manjeshwari P MYSORE
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All historical experience demonstrates the following: Our earth cannot be changed unless in the not too distant future an alteration in the consciousness of individuals is achieved.
Is This The Reason You've Been Distant
Should one forgive and forget,
An intentional 'slighting' done?
The kind that is directed and meant,
From a mind in pre-meditative stages.
I've gotten tired of being the one to understand.
By those who quickly accept and forget,
Before the carelessness of thought begins...
The same shhh...stuff, again!
Can you hear what I am saying?
You could at least nod your head.
And pretend I am worthy,
Of 'some' of your attention!
Should one forgive and forget,
An intentional 'slighting' done?
The kind that is directed and meant,
From a mind in pre-meditative stages?
'How do you think I should answer that?
Tell me how do you wish for me to respond?
I don't want either one of us to get upset.
Nor do I wish to say something I might regret.
How do you think I should answer that?
And what would you do and think of next? '
I've understood and given you attention.
But from you 'that' I don't get.
Whether or not I am upset.
The only thing I wish we had that I do regret,
Is communication.
And how that prolongs happiness in a relationship.
'If one is not happy why doesn't one leave? '
Like you have already done?
Is that what you are saying to me?
Are you saying,
You have long gone...
And I am told by you in third person?
Is this the reason you've been distant?
With an eagerness to dismiss yourself,
When I begin to reminisce.
And the chill I feel in the air,
Comes from a cold shoulder!
Waiting to be warmed in someone else's arms.
I should be alarmed by this.
But I am not.
You've taught me to expect,
Anything from you.
And I do.
Yes...
I do!
I have even regretted I once had said that to you too!
When it was meant,
I believed it!
Before the games began.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No Pain No Gain
Music :rudolf schenker
Lyrics:klaus meine, mark hudson
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
Face in the gutter eyes on the floor
Walk on down you know the score
It's a dead-end street back to the wall
Get it together you can get it all
The weak will fall the strong remain
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
No time for losers you make the call
Believe in yourself stand tall
Another day it's in your hand
You can be the winner in the end
The weak will fall the strong remain
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
Keep runnin' don't look back
Keep movin' straight ahead
Keep goin' don't ever stop
There's time to rest the day you'll drop
You roll the dice you play the game
The weak will fall the strong remain
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
...
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writing Requires Experience
Pen poised between my fingers,
but on the page the ball point lingers.
I am willing the lyrics to flow
on what topic? I still don't know.
I realize then that writing poetry
requires experience not gained easily.
A good poet no doubt very wise is,
consequently, the problem arises:
how to gain this vital experience?
The dilemma, and source of my grievance:
how does a coward like me,
hiding from a world I can't stand,
become wise without learning
life lessons first hand?
Can my poems ooze hatred
when I've never been betrayed?
Can I speak vividly of love
when my heart hasn't yet been inflamed
by the warmth it is said to bring?
Will my lyrics be able to sing
with conviction clear and true
and so invoke any sense of relatedness in you?
I want to write
about any and everything
from now till kingdom come.
Sadly, I lack both the experience,
and the wisdom.
poem by Shaqueena Celestin
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Human Comedies (Revised)
Something I love, something I enjoy so much
I do not care whether dead or alive – turning
attention back to an Interpol document about
a foul perpetrator of a heinous crime, a drug
mule profiteering from drug abuse
Gone is a deeper meaningfulness gained by
life’s pensive evaluation, quiet contemplation
of beautiful thoughts, a laser beam diffusing,
diffracting, scattering in another dimension,
away from blind consciousness – gaining
Sense of purpose & satisfaction – but back
to rhythms of repetitious routine lulling me to
sleep, hiding the dazzling joy of creative
activity; blissful experience has to be few
and far between to remain unique
A place in daily consciousness for human
beings to live in small bits of time chipped
from cycles of infinity – where timelessness
is insupportable if we did not design and play
in these intriguing human comedies
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Someday (relative..)
July 21,08
Someday, you’ll realize
What you didn’t realize
You may regret or rather ignore.
There are so many reasons to live
So many choices to choose,
Sometimes, you’ll stand up for wrong
That for you seems right.
Well then, bullshit! ! !
Right?
Sometimes.
Life doesn’t always been beautiful even trying hard to
Cuz’ it’s always been bullshit
Having around, someone, everyone
Who doesn’t want you to feel alright.
Creepy
But you have to wait
For an ending, for a new beginning
Maybe you’re happy now
But tomorrow, expect the unexpected
You may gain, but
You may lose some, more, more.
(as you always wanted them to be)
Well,
Someday, everything will be done.
With no regrets and looking back
Just try to make hard things simple
You’ll see
Everything will be fine.
poem by reina Lorenzo
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Washing Machine Albeit So Weird
I do not trust the long rinse and spin cycle of the
washing machine, loud and insane, scrunch up
the washing, making careful hanging to obviate
ironing impossible; I always interfere in rinsing-
spinning since washing machines have been
designed by demons bent on torturing humans
My distrust of all kinds of machines; except my
adorable laptop who takes every word it is fed
and returns it to me in the script I like; led to my
never using a dishwasher, an evil device that
runs in unfathomable cycles driving me crazy
with uncertainty about objects and motives
And degree of cleanliness; therefore I turn the
kitchen radio to Radio Pretoria (because they
play German music, the bedroom radio stays
tuned to FM Classic, TV alternating between
Nat Geo Wild and Deutsche Welle while the
big screen TV remains on sports channels)
And wash the dishes by hand; - I forgot to
add detergent when washing Tiaan’s dusty
clothes two washes ago, somehow I hold an
irrational belief washing should require little
detergent if any– and the washing machine
did not remind me – hah! – point is
While it is impossible to wash by hand, my
wrists go numb as I scrub and twist - the
washing machine is a strange invention
that refuses to wash in a way I can
understand - but I shall always use
it, albeit so weird…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Slop They Dropped
Move from a tainting of a game maintained,
To have people painted to sustain a gain.
With a mopping up slop that's enjoyed alot.
But the cleaning of it up,
Will be theirs nonstop.
To mop up slop that's enjoyed alot.
But the cleaning of it up,
Will be theirs nonstop.
Move from a tainting of a game maintained,
To have people painted to sustain a gain.
With a mopping up slop that's enjoyed alot.
But the cleaning of it up,
Will be theirs nonstop.
Sticky fingerprints all over the place.
With a hoping that in time they will be erased.
And unhappiness appearing on faces now chased.
Those who mopped up slop they enjoyed alot.
But the cleaning of it up,
Is now theirs nonstop.
Those who mopped up slop they enjoyed alot.
But the cleaning of it up,
Is now theirs nonstop.
Those who mopped up slop they enjoyed alot.
But the cleaning of it up,
Is now theirs nonstop.
Sticky fingerprints all over the place.
With a hoping that in time they will be erased.
But the cleaning of it up,
Is now theirs nonstop.
It's too late to move from a tainting game,
To have people painted to sustain a gain.
'Cause the cleaning of it up,
Is now theirs nonstop.
It's too late to move from a tainting game
To have people painted to sustain a gain.
'Cause the cleaning of it up,
Is now theirs nonstop.
Tainting people's names to sustain a gain,
Has other people mopping up the slop they dropped.
Tainting people's names to sustain a gain,
Has other people mopping up the slop they dropped.
Tainting people's names to sustain a gain,
Has other people mopping up the slop they dropped.
Other people now mopping up a slop.
Slop they dropped.
Slop they dropped.
Sticky fingerprints all over the place.
Slop they dropped.
Slop they dropped.
But there's no hope in time they will be erased.
Slop they dropped.
Slop they dropped.
Sticky fingerprints all over the place.
Slop they dropped.
Slop they dropped.
But there's no hope in time they will be erased.
Slop they dropped.
Slop they dropped.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Did I Beg From You An Acceptance?
This is not a version of something before that had existed,
To be lifted from your memory to then quickly dismiss.
Not this!
No.
But you've been convinced of it,
As being just another experience you would rather do without.
Until it's remembered for what it is.
To then do your best to recapture the moment to reminisce.
And not a version of it attempted to compare,
Will never satisfy what was there when it had been given...
To you and no one else.
Trust me!
I know from where it came with my eyes wide open.
It was not from me to leave that easily.
And when rejected...
Did I beg from you an acceptance?
No.
I did not.
I've kept what I've got to increase its appreciation.
To flourish as it was nurtured.
What I've got to spare doesn't have to be shared,
To validate its existence to remain with me welcomed!
Time has taught me what to value.
What to keep and always cherish to polish and not let rust.
It doesn't have to be an 'us' for that to be made known.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Less emphasis on inventories, I think, may tend to dampen business cycles, because business cycles are typically in the grasp of inventory cycles and heavy industry cycles.
quote by Paul A. Volcker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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