Sold And Caught Up In Ideals
Sold and caught up in ideals,
Can become quite traumatic...
For the ones who are still convinced,
Their lives lived are envied.
Since suddenly and overnight it seems,
There is a marketing of reality...
They had been told did not exist.
And unbelieving this...
Many camp out in tents,
With a protesting beyond their picket fences...
To have their standards valued and way of life,
Returned.
And even those they kept away from benefiting,
Look upon them with an amazement that humors.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A People Of Progressive Ideals
Divisive politics?
I don't believe it.
Bigoted and rascist remarks,
Intended?
No way!
The people today,
Only wish to have their beliefs represented.
In a cohesive wholesomeness,
That is clearly being misunderstood.
Aren't we a people of progressive ideals?
Reflecting those standards that are valued?
Aren't we a people of an envied mindset,
Sold the world over to appeal?
Divisive politics?
I don't believe it.
Bigoted and rascist remarks,
Intended?
No way!
Aren't we a people of progressive ideals?
Reflecting those standards that are valued?
Aren't we a people of an envied mindset,
Sold the world over to appeal?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Time Has Come...
All of their cable lines,
Have been dependently connected...
To outside sources.
This has been going on for decades.
Generations have benefited from this.
So...
Tell me,
Who are these 'delutionists'...
Proposing such a ridiculous undertaking?
'The children of the potheads.
The ones strickly raised on independent concepts.
And calling themselves 'conservatives'.
The ones wishing structure that is sound...
And foundation based.
And...
Believing their way of life is envied.'
Envied?
By 'who'?
'The very ones supporting their existence.
Their way of life and those standards,
They have come to treasure and value..
That's why they have become upset.
And protesting now.'
Isn't it time they be told the truth?
'Time to do what?
Are you kidding?
By whom?
There are already hundreds of thousands,
Sitting in prisons.
And they were the ones told,
Santa clause did not exiit and had been a myth.'
The road ahead is rocky, indeed.
'Well...
Not necessarily.
You see...
Leaders from around the world,
Will soon be introducing in all school systems...
The teaching of magic tricks and illusions.
And...
So far,
Those protesting the loss of their entitlements...
Have been slowly convinced.
With a showing of an interest.'
That's great news.
Perhaps there will eventually be peace at last.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No Disparities Seen
If one grows accustomed to a joke,
And lives it as if...
That's the only reality lived they know.
And it is.
By what they show and choose to believe.
And surrounding themselves they do,
With jesters!
To uphold such valued standards!
It is a life felt that feels most comfortable.
Those opposing 'this' reality,
Are the ones oppressed and made to fear.
Made to become subservient.
Although they are the ones,
Closer to the truth...
Of all creation!
And their lives are despised.
Otherwise there would be no disparities seen.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One Has Standards to Maintain
Are you a joke?
Or is this an inappropriate time,
For your life to be lived.
And your dreams of securing a house,
With a white picket fence...
Seems too rich in delusion.
And undernourished.
Lacking in an acceptance of reality.
And you laugh at 'me' and my perceptions,
Quick.
One of us desires for yesterday to make a comeback.
And the other refuses to accept anything from yesterday,
At all.
Including those delusions,
Assembled for a fast marketing of trash repackaged.
One has standards to maintain.
The other?
Has a sanity to protect.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I've Just Started
I am flattered,
But not yet sold.
Nor am I convinced,
By what I am told.
My steps on a path,
Has not changed at all.
The obstacles remain the same.
I am just careful how I fall.
Stumbling to get up,
Has become my ritual.
With few complaints...
I master my strengths.
I am flattered,
But not yet sold.
Nor am I convinced,
By what I am told.
I just 'do'.
To get done.
With a motivation...
That inspires me to finish.
I am flattered that this has been recognized.
But not yet sold am I.
Nor convinced by what I am told,
About achieving with accomplishment...
The best of my efforts.
That's impossible!
How could I when I've just started.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Who's Benefit Is It
Lies lived,
Throughout decades and generations...
Of them being heard or told to listen.
Does not make them come true.
If fact,
Truth is traumatic and does not come to empathize,
A hiding.
Truth when it is accepted opens eyes wide.
To comprehend and not defend,
The creation of myths devalued.
Once lies lived have been uncovered for what that is...
Holding grudges and bitterness may be done.
But to who's benefit is it,
To insist lies told still exist when none of them,
Bought, sold or can be held like jello...
Can be connected to anything solid.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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As Sure As The Sun Rises To Set
Surviving natural disasters,
With the taking away of material things...
Treasured by those who turn up their noses,
On neighbors and others they 'had' believed,
Lived in standards below them...
To compare and tease some with what they've got.
Are overnight among the 'have nots'.
The only way to stop a wagging tongue...
Mother Nature seems to always have a remedy,
For those quick to pass their judgements.
To critically critique.
And for those snooping over fences,
To mind someone else's business...
No longer are they wondering why,
It's important to respect how others live!
Especially now that the business of theirs...
Hangs from barren trees and share as a part of debris,
Littering for as far as the eye can see.
As sure as the Sun rises to set...
Many folks are living through their experiences,
With much regret.
Especially if those defamed neighbors and lost friends...
Are gone from them forever.
As well as those fences they peeked over.
With those doors, windows, walls, roofs...
And other treasured things once glouted about,
As a peacocking through malls...
And other 'social' comparing stops to gossip.
From them instantly taken away.
No longer to exist.
No matter what it is they do,
To restore their lives...
As if they weren't caught by surprise.
With a keeping of a mouth shut.
And more empathy,
They wish they had given to others...
As a druther,
And not as a tedious charity hand out.
Since little of it seems to come their way.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Traumatic Has to Be the Reality Faced
Traumatic for many,
These days lived...
Has to be.
Especially for the ones who identified,
Their lives and self worth...
With the ability to purchase 'bling',
And other materialistic things.
With money that from them is dwindling.
Traumatic has to be the reality faced,
There is no substitute for truth that can be replaced.
Nor are there those empathetic,
Who have grown accustomed...
To finding their way on the streets to eat and sleep.
And yet those with beliefs they are above all of this,
Find themselves indebted to their beliefs...
They wish to keep.
And...
Traumatic for many,
These days lived...
Has to be.
For those who make demands as if...
Their lifestyles can be sustained,
By squeezing them...
From an economy based on credit.
That has exhausted all fantasies,
Once supporting a delusion...
There was no ending that came to a feeding of a feast.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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That Penny Held Tightly Within One's Fist
Harsh assessments.
Coming to bombard.
A treasured way of life.
One valued with standards,
Presented and upheld.
As the only way of life,
Enforced upon others.
Whether this way of life is disliked,
Despised.
Or defended as right and liked!
This blind obsession,
Has proven in time.
Even those who were convinced,
Others envied this life with a jealousy meant.
Has been overdue for a self examination.
It would be difficult today,
To locate anyone who will say.
It thrills them to maintain their pretentions.
Knowing every penny they save.
Is less,
Than the penny they earned yesterday!
However.
That penny held tightly within one's fist,
Is done so with the greatest of devoted loyalty.
Regardless of its worthlessness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Does It Take For Reality To Be Embraced?
What is it that goes on in the minds of those,
Who choose an agenda...
To defeat the ones they have historically opposed?
By the telling of lies and demeaning them,
With stereotypical jokes that seem to continue with no end?
Those old jokes told,
That have rusted against their peeling picket fences.
Delusion!
A delusion kept that their inept perceptions,
Will stay effective with sustained false depth.
And their ability to squeeze the economy,
To have those on their knees and pleading...
With a begging of them to forgive them of 'sins'.
As if they have been annointed as 'chosen' deities.
Worshipped by those suppressed as they believe.
What goes on in the minds of those,
Who choose an agenda...
To defeat the ones they have historically opposed,
By the telling of lies and demeaning them...
With stereotypical jokes?
Delusion!
And what awakens to stun the ones,
To snap out of their spells they've kept so well?
Reality!
And what does it take for reality to be embraced?
A truth that survives that no one can deny.
Once superficiality diminishes from those whose eyes,
Have been cleared and freed from all deceptions.
With trauma to face as a reception!
After inspecting their standards once valued demolished.
'Say what you will.
But a winning was not done with a mandate! '
I agree.
However...
Few losers are heard cheering,
Because they 'almost' defeated that which was opposed.
Or observed snuggling together...
With smiles a mile wide and gratified with eyes closed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cutting Edge
As long as my work is edited...
To ensure by those who censor,
I say nothing to offend anyone...
They may believe is totally oblivious,
To a reality that affects...
Their pretentiously kept delusions,
They will meet and decide by voting...
If my written submissions as described,
Should be considerd...
Cutting edge!
And that determines...
Who amongst them have actually,
Spent anytime outside and beyond...
Their own comfort zones.
Many do not travel too far,
To ensure an innocence represented..
Thrives to keep some minds stunted.
Even though the majority of the people,
Have long been forced to do so...
With an eviction from these zones,
For most of their lives.
And find that a censorship...
Athough at these times lived ridiculous,
Should be applied to an acceptance...
Of a decadence that is marketed successfully!
But, of course...
That is a reflection of their lives as lived,
Valued as standards they publicly deny.
Yes it is hypocritical...
However,
It is what it is!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Working At The Factory
All my life I've been a workin' man
When I was at school they said that's all you'll ever understand
No profession. I didn't figure in their plans
So they sent me down factory to be a workin' man
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
Now I'm here seemingly free, but working at the factory.
The music came along and gave new life to me
And gave me hope back in 1983
The music came and set me free
From working at the factory
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
Never wanted to be like everybody else
But now there are so many like me sitting on the shelf
They sold us a dream but in reality
It was just another factory
I made the music , thought that was mine
It made me free , but that was in another time
But then the corporations and the big combines
Turned musicians into factory workers on assembly lines.
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
We made the music to set ourselves free
From working at the factory.
All my life I've put in a working day
Now it's sign the contract. Get production on the way
Take the money, make the music pay
Working at the factory
All I lived for was to get out of the factory.
Never wanted to be like everybody else
But now there are so many like me sitting on the shelf
They sold us a dream but in reality
Was just another factory
Working at the factory.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Discussion Of What 'Is' Valued
Mixed marriages.
Sexual preferences.
And those unable to mind their own business.
Is not a good blend,
When in discussion of what 'is' valued.
Since those standards of a yesterday gone,
And once valued to respect others and their choices made...
Are not prioritized,
By those who have their noses...
Up in the cracks of other people's lives.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Before The Making of a Dollar
Standards valued today,
And what they 'should' be...
Have definitely changed,
From what those same values...
Applied yesterday.
Had been and use to be.
And in 'those' days...
A having of dignity and pride,
Was shown and not denied.
And depending on who you are...
A pride taken in oneself,
Will be labelled conceit and arrogance.
Again...
This depends one how one is depicted.
And 'what' one represents.
To emphasis those values...
Only when they seem to be demeaned,
By a targeted class of people hip hopping on the scene...
Society chooses to belittle and disrespect.
With a media microscoping to defame and diminish.
However...
Those same values are not kept,
When addressing those who believe they are above others...
When marketing their disgrace,
To advertise high on billboards, movies...
And other 'money grabbing' ways up in everyone's face.
Standards valued today,
And what they 'should' be...
Have definitely changed,
From what those same values...
Applied yesterday.
Had been and use to be.
Before the making of a dollar,
Replaced the making of quality human beings.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Too Much Has Been Revealed
A renewal of beliefs to review to meet,
Ingredients now fed to eat is much needed.
An obscruity of that which had been valued,
Blocks steps on paved roads now used today.
Updating of standards is more specific than wished.
Too much has been revealed.
Too much has been revealed.
What was 'then' thought and taught as reality,
Has come to cast shadows on that which had existed.
Too much has been revealed.
Overwhelmed are those attempting to restrict themselves,
To lives lived in limitations.
Too much has been revealed.
A transformation is in progress.
And will not cease by those wishing with ease...
To have it swept away in defeat to critique it with ratings.
To place its significance with a label that stays.
Too much...
Has been revealed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Me Neither!
Would you be convinced,
Someone who had spent decades...
Providing evidence to others,
With a making of logical sense...
That a way to achieve bona fided success,
Seen without question...
Came with a dedicated implementation,
Of motivation, discipline and the giving of respect?
And these same people,
Who just yesterday...
Are today embracing reality,
With a newly acquired consciousness.
Would you be convinced of this?
'Well, I...uh...? '
Me neither!
That kind of reality coming to many overnight,
Would be too frightening for anyone to fathom.
'It, it..well...I..I...'
Relax.
It's not going to happen.
My question was hypothetical.
Calm down.
There is no need to break out into a sweat.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When I Was Young
When I was a young I was impressionable
I believed everything to me that was told
But then suddenly in miracles I stopped believing
That was the day that I grew old.
I now do not believe in any miracle
As I was taught they do not or cannot exist
From the complex creation of any life
To the formation of a tiny cyst.
So no longer do I walk in amazement
That is created by our world and nature all around
I now know everything can be explained
From a slight touch to the hearing of a sound.
When I was a boy I played with toy soldiers
I played with toy guns and I even played war
But then I grew up and reality it sat in
Now those games I play them no more.
Seashells they do not speak the ocean
The end of a rainbow it holds no pot of gold
Wishes cannot be granted by the first star at night
Sometimes I wish that I didn't grow old.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Practicing Tact
Practicing tact,
May work for those...
Who are expected to control,
Certain environments.
But old fashioned tactics,
To hold one's attention...
Today does not work.
Have you tried to teach,
A classroom of students...
Who have been fast food supplied,
And gone beserk?
Or listened to a parent who cries upon a visit...
Not understanding 'why' their 'babies',
Are locked up in a prison?
To then be told,
They should be held accountable...
For raising irresponsible children.
And when this is tried...
Some authority from the 'outside',
Tells them their methods applied...
Are not acceptable to 'standards'.
And their actions are denied!
Practicing tact,
May work for those...
Who are expected to control,
Certain environments.
However...
Practice does not make perfect,
If those allowing dysfunctions to exist...
Insist ideals more valued,
No one from them should run and hide.
Although laws created,
Protects a downslide!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In His Eyes! And Ours
Times then were lived,
Within our means.
We valued being clean.
Respected as expected.
This is what everyone did without neglect.
And embraced hygiene!
This was a fact of life known and seen!
Sold on concepts of a desire to learn.
Wanting to comprehend lessons taught...
That broadened our lives with a competitiveness.
With a fear of limits ignorance welcomed.
And we then wished no part of this.
We sought to grow.
And this assisted with an identity dignity presented.
Times then were lived within our means.
To deceive...
Was then thought to be despicable.
To cheat and lie about it,
Did not excite or sit well...
With those who suffered through the consequences,
Of their ways that dismayed.
Today...
People talk the 'walk' but do not walk the talk.
People say they have good intentions.
But leave no evidence of it seen.
Today...
People talk about their standards and values.
As if this is held in an exclusiveness.
And a membership is required for this to be addressed.
Today...
People are obsessed with their possessions.
Their good credit scores and loans they can obtain.
Because they have maintained status given,
Although they keep blemishes hidden...
That may reveal their tainted names.
And they cheat.
Lie.
And deceive!
With lifestyles lived well above their means.
And yet,
When suspected...
Nothing about them is respected.
Nor do the judgements they pass on others...
Keep tax collectors from locking them out,
From foreclosed homes they bragged about.
OR...
Do they 'today' have the means to feed, protect
Or shelter themselves,
In peace.
Times we lived then,
Were lived within our means.
And we were taught to be grateful.
To feel we were blessed.
And we should express this to God.
On a daily basis kept routined!
Like promises we made to ensure we had good hygiene.
And then God...
And only God,
Will make sure our lives lived were lived right!
In His eyes!
And ours.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Initiated to Protect Their Diminshing Freedoms
Too few too long,
Have not been listened to.
Those few so strong and brave,
Have sacrificed their lives..
And unafraid to raise their voices,
High.
Are not on these scenes,
To be demeaned anymore.
Too many convinced,
Their way of life defended...
To them had made sense.
With an allowing to leave them,
To be indifferent.
And all today who now can see,
Have come to realize...
Their priorities lived have been deceived.
Too few too long,
Have not been listened to.
Those few so strong and brave,
Have sacrificed their lives..
And unafraid to raise their voices,
High.
Are not on these scenes,
To be demeaned anymore.
And now today no one can escape,
What has been valued...
Has been reappraised.
With a wish for comprehension,
And a spreading of empathy will come their way...
As more and more on warring shores,
Find themselves caught up...
To free their minds,
From a raging craze that with them stays.
Initiated to protect their diminshing freedoms.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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