Sometimes With Nothing Profound
Spectacular and unconventional.
With a little bit of poverty.
And a lot of dysfunction.
But I couldn't pay...
To have my life any other way.
The names I've been called,
Over the years that I've been called them...
Have been fuel to ignite my desires.
And those who have done this,
Were mainly relatives too.
Choosing to be the worse critics.
As if a duty of it was to prove.
And over the years,
Sharing both laughter and tears...
So many experiences enjoyed I've done.
Lessons were many and they still continue.
As my curiousity expands...
To extend a bolder me that stands.
And with pen in hand...
I have been blessed to share.
And sometimes with nothing profound.
Just comments made to toss around.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Identity Crisis!
When born, I was called “baby”
And later they called me “Abby”
Within 5 years they called me “student”
And for 7 years, like that I spent
Then they called me “teen”
I loved it and felt like a queen
Then I was called “woman”
And those times, were the best
Then some one tied a knot and called me “wife”
I hated those times, it was horrible and gross
In years I became “mother”
It was beautiful but tough
Then being called “grandma”
My times got better and better
Then at last I was called “old”
And my body was frail and cold
All this time I wondered,
Where my identity has gone
Some where in the middle, I had lost it
Through the ages, I had a crisis
An identity crisis to say!
DECEMBER 23,2008
poem by Sania Harris
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Through The Years
Written: kylie minogue/ dave ball/ ingo vauk
This fever I have is because of you
My body is blazing
The flames alight and lick at my ear
So that I can only hear
Muddled words of you
Through the years
Too many a trusted word was said
My body was porous
I savoured every drop of you
Took me it all as true
Now I wonder my way
Through the years
Through the years
Ooh you blinded me with all your light
I wish I could see now
Promises and lies ignite the fire
And I wonder why
I believed in you
Through the years
Through the years
Through the years of joy and laughter
Of tears and sadness
Of hopes and heart
Through the years of love and loving
Of hurt and healing
Falling apart
I believed in you
And I wonder wonder why
Im no longer fooled by your disguise
Im sorry that you are
I pity all the pretensions of you
And now I start anew
I wish my way
Through the years
song performed by by Kylie Minogue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Teddy Bears
Up to the age of four years old
Edmund was called ‘Little Ted’,
but the day after his fifth birthday
he was called something else instead.
For his birthday he was bought a teddy bear
and of course that night he took it to bed.
The very next morning he told his mummy
the bear was to be called ‘Little Ted’.
Two ‘Little Ted’s’ would be confusing, said mum
so you ought to change your name.
Because you’re bigger we’ll call you ‘Big Ted’
and then your names won’t be the same.
‘Big Ted’ and ‘Little Ted’ became great friends,
and went everywhere together,
upstairs and downstairs, indoors and out,
and in all kinds of weather.
One day ‘Big Ted’ and his mother went shopping,
and he saw an even bigger teddy bear.
He whispered to his mother, “Don’t you think
‘Little Ted’ is looking worse for wear? ”
She knew what he was getting at and said,
“You can’t replace ‘Little Ted’ just because he’s worn, ”
and he said, “I don’t want to replace ‘Little Ted’,
but another teddy would help to keep him warm.”
“By what name would it be known? ” she asked.
“Well, it’s only right that he should be ‘Big Ted’,
and then everyone will call me Edmund,
which is what I prefer to be called instead.”
poem by Orlando Belo
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Just a load of silly limericks about people I know
I know young lady called Dee
Who lived in a bubblegum tree
She savoured the view
Whilst big bubbles she blew
And she only came down for her tea.
I know I young lady called Carolyn
Who said she was gonna go travelling
She afforded the lot
By a pay out she got
When her ex got impaled by a javelin.
There once was a poet called Ben
Who couldn't let go of his pen
He had a 'to do'
With some strong super glue
And it's been stuck there ever since then.
There once was a young Mr bright
Who wanted his farts to ignite
When he lighted the match
His fart just wouldn't catch
Coz the pants he had on were too tight!
I know a young lady called Laurie
Who burped after eating a curry
By god it was loud
And for this she was proud
Then she giggled and said she was sorry!
There once was a young man called Will
Who found it quite hard to sit still
He did not sit down once
No not even for lunch
It eventually made him quite ill
I know a lady called Karen
Who hired a group of hit men
She payed a few bob
For this one special job
And her ex was not spotted again
I know a girl called Nicola
Who craved for a day at a spar
She wanted shellac
And a rub of her back
But thought waxing was going too far
poem by Stevie Taite
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I Admit I Have Forgotten
When I was a much younger person,
It was difficult for me to listen...
With a paying of attention.
I was young, dumb and full of...
Ignorance I shared.
With those who became upset,
With decisions I made too late to correct.
Today,
I listen to everyone.
Whether what is said is solicited or not.
I even sit through people repeating themselves,
With hopes my raised eyebrow would send a clue...
I got the message two days ago.
And they 'still' continue.
Believing I am listening intently.
I've learned that one never knows,
What is being said today...
Will not apply one day.
Whenever that day arrives.
'Remember you told me to shut my mouth,
To listen years ago.
And I became offended,
Calling you some horrible and atrocious names? '
No.
I don't remember that.
What names did you call me?
How horrible and atrocious were they?
'Well...
I just wanted to say I am grateful to you.
And I feel even more blessed,
You have forgiven me.'
Wait a minute. Hold on.
What were those names you called me?
Help me remember.
Maybe I haven't forgiven you at all.
Although I admit I have forgotten.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We have common enemies today. It's called childhood poverty. It's called cancer. It's called AIDS. It's called Parkinson's. It's called Muscular Dystrophy.
quote by Jerry Doyle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Back 20 years ago, I was recording with Bruce Springsteen, and his producer called me and said I had to be in the studio the next day to finish the sessions, and I couldn't. I had to be in court, in California. All this took like 10 years out of my life.
quote by Ronnie Spector
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I May Have Years To Go
I MAY HAVE YEARS TO GO
I may have years to go-
Many many years
In which I will continue to fail
In the same way
I have failed
In the many more years before.
The truth is
God could give me hundreds of years more
I would still be capable
Only of being myself -
Blessed are those given the gift of greatness by God
And long-troubled those who would be given it
And are not.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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With Their Wishes To Be 'Freaky
I think I've been called,
Every derogatory name there is.
When I was a kid that use to bother me.
Especially those names I couldn't spell.
I had at one time collected them.
To see which ones I preferred.
So...
To entertain,
I admit I then did some things that were strange.
Many years have passed,
And even today I'm considered 'eccentric'.
As if I did not spend my life pursuing this!
Status quo folks bore me to tears.
With their 'normal' way of doing things...
'Whatever' today people consider that 'is'.
And as I reach to seek for more challenges,
I realize I've almost outdone myself.
Believing I was made to test the waters,
Before anyone else.
And a few have sought me out to give advice.
With their wishes to be 'freaky' without paying the price.
'Back off!
I've earned this! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Have Been Given Another Point Of View
I apologize if I offend you.
And those delusions you've been fed to keep.
But you see...
My life is not lived in Hollywood.
And none of my ancestors,
Came close to serving time...
On a movie set.
My comments may come as a surprise,
To upset your insights.
But my reality has been annointed by the ghetto.
In those urban centers of city life.
Where very few of those so called 'elite' go.
I apologize if I offend you.
Although I could easily cuss you out.
And not have my bitter experiences,
Think twice about it.
I was not shelter by protectors with the giving of lollipops.
Dysfunctions of all kinds I knew as friends.
I've been blessed with a mind that sees beyond limitations.
I share this with you,
Because I know of me...
You have been given another point of view.
And I don't want you to receive the wrong directions,
By anyone who believes they know...me!
And...
Where I have been, where I am now and where I intend to go.
And only that is revealed,
When I arrive to leave upon my announcing it.
If I wish.
And often I don't.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Years of Tears
Years of tears for no ears to hear, lonely for years am I
Years of tears for no ears to hear in silence they dropp and die
Years of tears, hidden deep, I cannot weep, nor cry.
Years of tears, for many fears of dying alone, I sigh.
Years of tears which no one hears as many years go by.
Years of tears in the lonely sky, my tears grow wings and fly.
Years of tears, my smile shines, through its little lines, I lie.
Years of tears, my somber peers through my melancholy eye
Tears of tears, Years of Years, in my soul, I tie.
Years of tears for no ears to hear my tears weep goodbye….
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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You can change the names
You can change the names
of places and call them,
what you want.
My people who life there,
will still be living there
next year and for many years more.
You can change the personnel
that work for the city
and the inadequate delivery of services
and corruption,
will in time make you
pay a handsome bill.
You can change the names of streets,
and fashion them
to your heroes.
Never could you undo
the acts of those
whose names they originally bared
and everyone that uses them
will still know
what they were called before.
Without fixing the roads
people will remember
about the holes in Slovo street
and the dead robots in Mandela drive,
which will keep them alive
You can change the names of airports
for its better that way,
that the world knows
that they coming
to an new country
that’s has fallen years behind,
from where it was before.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Are You Going To See Your Mom?
'Mom,
I come back again.'
I shouted
in my mind.
It is said that
Plane flies fast.
But my heart
flew to my Mom
before the plane landed.
I knew
that my sisters come here
in turn everyday.
Now this day
I would be on duty.
When I stepped into the nursing home,
I saw Mom in a wheel chair,
with more white hair,
and more wrinkles on face.
I gave her a hug,
'Hi, Mom.' I shouted near her ear.
Mom stared me with dull sight,
then held my hands,
'Sister' she called me,
She couldn't recognize me!
I couldn't hold my tears any more.
Mom didn't cry,
just wiped out my tears
using her hand.
When lunch was ready,
I fed her one spoon after another;
Mom nodded her head while she's chewing;
A little smile showed up at the edge of her lips.
I hated that It's time to leave,
I stood up, and said
'Good bye, Mom.'
She looked at me,
held my hands, and asked me:
'Are you going to see your Mom? '
* Mom had dementia two years before and moved into a nursing home.
Also, she has hearing problem.
Are You Going To See Your Mom? *
poem by Jade Huang
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As Long As You Are Near
The first time we met, I could see
That you and I were meant to be
Your eyes were so gentile, your smile so true
When you first held my hand, I just knew
Now the time has gone by through laughter and tears
Those days I shall cherish, for years upon years
Those memories we have, shall never fade
For those are the steps that we made
That was the past the future is near
I anxiously wait for what to appear
New homes, more laughter and children so dear
Everything will be wonderful as long has you are near
poem by Duke Perry Abrokwa
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As Long as you are near
The first time we meet,
I could see
That you and I were meant to be.
Your eyes were so gentle,
Your smile so true
When you first held my hand
I just knew.
Now the time has gone by,
Through laughter and tears
These days I shall cherish
For years upon years
Those memories we have
Shall never fade
For those are the steps
That we have made
That was the past
The future is near
I anxiously wait
For what will appear
New homes, more laughter
And children so dear
Everything will be wonderful
As long as you are near
-to anyone
poem by Courtney Noggle
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deep in my heart i know God
deep in my heart
i know God as a friend
waiting for me
in the valleys and plains
for a thousand years
he was called Master
by the slaves and he
did not answer
for another thousand
years he is called the
Creator by his creatures
he did not listen
for another thousand years
he is called the Father
of his sons and he did not mind
until then when you call him
Your friend, your peer, your partner
did he look upon you and smile
and in this understanding
God has come, patting you on your shoulder
welcoming you to sit as a friend
on his table to take his glass
and drink the wine of eternity
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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All our thoughts and concepts are called up by sense-experiences and have a meaning only in reference to these sense-experiences. On the other hand, however, they are products of the spontaneous activity of our minds they are thus in no wise logical consequences of the contents of these sense-experiences. If, therefore, we wish to grasp the essence of a complex of abstract notions we must for the one part investigate the mutual relationships between the concepts and the assertions made about them for the other, we must investigate how they are related to the experiences.
quote by Albert Einstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter LXXX: Story
Story about future is called imagination
Story about past is called memories
Story about present is called reality
Story that becomes true is called prophecy
Story that becomes unfulfilled is called regret
Story that becomes no end is called boasting
Small story is called experience
Epic story is called history
Forgotten story is called lesson
Story that becomes obsession is called ambition
Story that becomes untold is called secret
Story that becomes go its own way is called life
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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I Always Made Sure I Had On Clean Underwear
Now that I have aged.
And grown into an acceptance,
I can appreciate.
I clearly comprehend...
Why some then,
Thought of me quite unusual.
You see...
I've never had a dysfunction,
I did not enjoy.
Or believe my blackness,
Was for me a disability.
I had not been raised...
To become caught up in the 'self'.
Or let someone's anger strike fear in me.
When I was called names...
And could not either spell them,
Or find them in the dictionary...
I always made sure I had on clean underwear.
That's right!
I remember my mother use to always say to us...
'I don't care what you do or don't understand,
You make sure when you leave outta here...
You bathe and have on clean underwear.'
And 'that' has been my philosophy all my life.
That's the only one I've kept,
That has made any sense to me.
With few debates to argue,
Do I encounter.
Knowing if I am ever made to sweat...
At least I am clean.
And ready for inspection.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Seasoned With Intrigue
Too many years of misunderstandings,
Seasoned with intrigue...
Has caused most people to be upset.
It is not what one has,
Or perhaps will never get.
It is an unwillingness to comprehend,
Everyone living...
Produces their own set of sins.
Too many years of misunderstandings,
Bridged by solicited confusion...
And conflicts without end,
Fed in competitions.
Ultimately split in divisions...
Of who is worthy,
To fail, succeed and win!
And no one does when everyone depends,
On neighbors, relatives and those called friends.
There has been too many years of misunderstandings.
And distrust, lies and the use of alibis to hide...
Insecurities denied,
Must all come to an end!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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