Spice of Their Lives
As trite as popular expressions go...
'Success of material gain,
Is equated to the depth
Of one's intelligence.'
This is 'probably' the most misunderstood
Perception of 'reality' in motion,
As is...
'Curiousity kills the cat! '
In fact,
The opposite of that may be true!
One never knows...
If 'that' particular cat has attached,
A parachute!
Especially if he has exhausted his 9th life.
And dares to explore a 10th jump...
Without assistance!
But then...
You must admit,
We are living in most unusual times!
Let's explore our observations...
Shall we?
Since those of intelligence,
Are less self indulgent in appearances...
For appearance sake.
It does appear,
However...
Those who choose to adorn their egos,
Do so with something to mask their insecurities!
Preferably with that which masks and matches,
A branded snob appeal!
Collected and accepted...
Between those who go under the knife,
To selected noses for high profile poses!
And that's why they maintain...
Variety is the spice of their lives!
Who amongst them will dispute,
They are the keeper of 'things'?
Displayed, flaunted and certainly flourished.
After all...
They have kept the rusted wheels of economies,
World wide...
Oiled in dependency.
Held in the gracious hands of a precious few,
Within the clutches of well manicured
And greasy fingers!
'Don't let this magic slip from the grip...
Of those plump and moisterized hands, boys! '
And that concludes the purpose for this meeting,
Today!
Any questions?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
There Is Nothing Like An Observation
How I know today times have changed?
People no longer laugh,
When they believe they have those 'things'...
That those who have not will never get!
Now today those who did not 'have',
What others 'had' and laughed...
Are less concerned,
About having their 'things' repossessed.
Like those with their noses,
High above their puffed up chests.
Or having their precious pretentions devalued,
Like those who used the have nots...
To validate the purpose of their foolishness.
How I know today times have changed?
There is nothing like an observation,
That details a bringing to another their reality.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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May 10th
May 10th, is one day amongs all
may 10th pass through me slowly with a word to hold unto
may 10th was sitting waiting to fulfill purpose yet we were blind with fate of foolishness
may 10th took something from the world with pride without regret of pain and lost
may 10th why must you come to pass now
may 10th was a slow moving day moving with
boldness seeking for something precious
may 10th standing at my gate yet i see him not
O what a lostful day to the world
may 10th why must you come to pass at my reign without seeking from me first
may 10th my unforgetable day
it gain more to forgive and forget but how can i forget
may 10th took something worth more than gold from the world
can the world ever forgive and forget that day
may 10th may 10th may 10th can you hear me
u are not to be forgotten by mistake believe me i forgive you but i cann't forget that painful day when you took away my mentor my grand father
may 10th 2011 6: 50pm.
poem by Senator alufalism
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Once Enjoyed and Invited
We are not in those times anymore.
When people would choose others,
For their own ignorance...
Unstopped and revolving,
Through the same turnstiles...
To explore and bore.
More people are awakening,
To what time 'today' is.
With less of them wasting it,
To let go and live.
The ones who found gossip,
Whispered from ear to ear.
Find it almost impossible...
To ignite any intrerest,
With someone equally inquisitive.
We are not in those times,
Anymore.
When people would choose others,
For their own ignorance...
To Explore increasing boredom.
And more and more,
People are re-evaluating values.
Finding it difficult,
To do as they choose...
And have others listen too!
Once enjoyed and invited,
People seem today quicker to admit...
A deeper meaning sought,
Than the routine of nonsense...
That finds them sick of it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Genius Observations
Is there an intelligence involved,
In the creation of this Earth?
Does the Earth itself
Have an intelligence misunderstood?
It is a mindless breed who feed like maggots,
On the back of this spinning ball.
And scientists are hired,
For their genius observations?
To reveal the facts to all?
No wonder Mother Nature,
Has unleashed Her displeasure
Upon the idiots...
Who take for granted,
Why they are here and 'how' in the first place
They exist!
Fools who qualify themselves,
As progressive thinkers of our times.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If It Had Not Been For Chemistry
I have never been here before.
To explore such views,
With anyone quite like you...
Full adventure and unafraid to explore.
Never before have I felt the student,
To allow myself to be taught...
By someone who brings,
A different insight to things.
If you had gone on another path,
I would have sat unchallenged.
And taken too much time,
To eventually let doubt have its way.
I can say today,
I am happy you found me sitting.
And owe meeting you to patience,
Somehow you knew for you it stayed.
I have never been here before.
To explore such views,
With anyone quite like you...
Full adventure and unafraid to explore.
'If it had not been for chemistry,
You and I would have only been here to see...
Just another someone else to forget and ignore,
As we continued on our separate journeys.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Overwhelmingly Magnetic
So busy they are today,
With their self importance.
Those feeding off of acquired popularity.
And believing themselves,
Overwhelmingly magnetic to others.
As they see themselves to be.
They can not see themselves,
From a superficial point of view.
They believe themselves to be the center of things.
Since some folks have them believing that is true.
A connection that has existed for some time to the world,
Appears to be comfortably attached...
Without an outward showing,
Of an entrapped affectation.
That connection to reality is obvious to those,
Who are aware of what reality means.
And for many this has been their lives as known.
A desire to have a popularity.
To be seen and showing what it is they do and 'own'.
And feeling alone and hollow,
If egos they displayed were not publicly overblown.
And fed wherever they are bled to produce,
Evidence of their significance to induce a following.
'Are you jealous? '
Of what?
I have been comfortable in my own skin,
'Most' of my life!
I am in no need to solicit popularity.
My radiance comes naturally.
'Oh.
How blind of me not to see it.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Constancy Of A Noble Purpose
how must i tell you again
it is not the intelligence but the
constancy of purpose
at first and then
you either do not listen when you
heard me clear or
you simply cannot accept it and
change
you believe always on intelligence
and so i watch you risk everything upon it
trying to explain every grain of sand
and there too many of them
and they invade your intelligence and
they bury it
then
finally killing you
suffocating you because the sands in their
constancy of purpose
never believe what intelligence
preaches and
bragged.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Common Sense Is Not Indexed
People believe intelligence comes from books they read.
As if to regurgitate another's observations,
Gives them an equal ability to 'see'.
But those who have wisdom,
Observe their environment...
And those who live in it.
The affects this creates.
And whose thoughts dominate them.
However...
Reading does achieve an expanded comprehension.
If one chooses to pursue a degree...
To produce heightened accepted limitations.
Although if one chooses to explore out of the box.
One has to do that on one's own.
Since detailed documentation for this,
Can be found not!
Common sense is not indexed.
And generally pioneered without standards to block.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pointing Fingers To Another
To maintain a sustained incompetence,
Left and described...
As signs of the times.
Is perhaps,
A task that is vastly tedious...
For those employed and assigned to mask it,
As the most significant representation of intelligence...
This side of the Universe.
Especially,
When taking into consideration...
A steady rise of unruly and undisciplined children,
Mentioned by a weakened society...
As being restless with a needing of motivation.
And...
Too preoccupied by the advancements made,
In today's speeding technology!
With a common declaration heard,
That passes the buck...
Yet again.
With the ease of an accountability,
No one dares to claim as their responsibility!
Or has become fostered by a lack of their concern.
Pointing fingers to another,
Has becomes as traditional...
As placing blame.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What Is Freedom? ...............
freedom.......freedom.........freedom............ ....
it contents variety of fact...............
there's no specific meanings for freedom................
because.............different people with different thoughts.................
some other they'd said...........
freedom is involving they-self to something they've love so much
but some other people thought..........
freedom is run away
from something or someone they've dislike too much
I'd do my own observations............
I'd explore the way of life......
I'd tried so many things in my life............
and you know what...........
I loved when i can reach my goals........
I think this is freedom.................
while you learns the way of life.....
you also can reach your satisfaction in your life..........................
That's the way of freedom........................
poem by Lina Manja257
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The Right Mask
One night a poem came up to a poet
From now on, it said, you must wear a mask.
What kind of mask? asked the poet.
A rose mask, said the poem.
I've used it already, said the poet,
I've exhausted it.
Then wear the mask that's made out of
a nightingale's song, use that mask.
Oh, it's an old mask, said the poet,
it's all used up.
Nonsense, said the poem, it's the perfect mask,
still, try on the god mask,
now that mask illuminates heaven.
It's a tight mask, said the poet,
and the stars crawl about in it like ants.
Then try on the troubador's mask, or the singer's mask,
try on all the popular masks.
I have, said the poet, but they fit so easily.
The poem was getting impatient,
it stamped its feet like a child,
it screamed. Then try on your own face,
try the one mask that terrifies,
the mask only you could possibly use,
the mask only you could wear out.
The poet tore at his face til it bled,
this mask? he yelled, this mask?
Yes, said the poem, yes.
But the poet was tired of masks,
he had lived too long with them,
he snatched at the poem and stuck it in his face.
Its screams were muffled, it wept, it tried to be lyrical,
it wriggled into his eyes and mouth.
Next day his friends were afraid of him,
he looked so distorted.
Now it's the right mask, said the poem, the right mask.
It clung to him lovingly and never let go again.
poem by Brian Patten
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People Aren't Wearing Their Pretentions Anymore
One thing is certain.
And you will know this for sure!
Gone are those days,
When pretending to be someone's friend...
Has come to a halt!
That has finally come to an end!
People will be looking for evidence.
And just saying you have friends...
Is going to be more valued,
Than anything you 'thought' you owned.
The times we now live will reveal this!
And 'if' you have been working,
To maintain appearances?
Many will find those 'appearances' foreclosed!
Nothing they 'owned'
Can be shown!
Not so much from lack of payment...
But from an introduction to reality!
And 'this' many will find themselves lacking.
Since 'reality' for them produced no backing!
Few had kept track...
Of the importance of keeping,
Themselves attached to facts!
Now they run stunned,
From a truth that attacks!
A reality that crushes perceptions,
Of what is desired most!
Some will find a closeness is needed.
And deceptions will uncover...
Denials suffered and discovered.
With some in recovery,
Hopefully with others!
Someone is sought to be trusted,
These days.
And if you have rushed to purchase that trust...
Guess what?
You and what you have worked to achieve...
Is as useless as your fake smile!
That has been poisoned with this disease.
And 'that' is no longer the standard.
Or accepted like tantrums of a child!
Not in these times as folks are trying to find...
Something of substance that is far more reliable!
And a selective way of life and outlook,
Has become fruitless, unnourishing...
Outdated and passé!
Like judgements passed for quick trials!
People aren't wearing their pretentions anymore.
And you with your charades displayed,
May just find yourself...
Among those who are left,
Who are feeling not only guilt...
But a disgust that has been much betrayed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Thought And Intelligence
Unfortunately,
One's intelligence used as a means...
To prove a respecting of a thought process,
Would one day catch on as popular to manifest...
Has fizzled quicker than popcorn thrown to pigeons.
A society debating the importance of education...
But not employing the effects of prioritizing its benefits,
Leaves those with high expectations conflicted and confused.
Especially when those who express thought and intelligence,
Are mentally abused and 'accused' of 'thinking' they are 'smart'.
In fact,
There are more people encouraging the act of cheating today...
Just to prove being competent does not require common sense.
Not if the goal is to be seen as successful with abilities to impress.
Unfortunately,
One's intelligence used as a means...
To prove a respecting of a thought process,
Would one day catch on as popular to manifest...
Has fizzled quicker than popcorn thrown to pigeons.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Greatness That Was
A greatness that was...
And grossly depicted in myths.
With an embellishment done,
Throughout generations entertained by this!
Has long sat on shelves dusting.
And rusted from a lack of activity.
But convenient to use as reference material...
To excuse these times abused.
Although...
Long neglected.
Yet now picked to select,
During times accusations are displayed.
For many to wave their fingers to blame...
As a decaying lays.
And everyone has paid the price,
To maintain their observances...
And their rights,
To fight to keep this in place!
As is.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Magic In My Hands
There is magic in my hands
A glittering pen more magical than wand
It weaves myriad, fantastic stories
Acclaimed, applauded, crowned with lasting glory.
There is magic in my hands
A golden pen more precious than castle grand
It builds hope in the sky where hearts ascended
Strong, unwavering, solidly founded.
There is magic in my hands
A pen that casts warmth better than the sun
It instills love in the core of man
Always jolly and merry, scarcely ever wan.
There is magic in my hands
A pen that races faster than cars of finest brand
It crosses all roads of pain and happiness
Filled up with words of unblemished loveliness.
There is magic in my hands
A pen that draws a world fairer than wonderland
It reveals the earth’s face none dares unfold
A magic that brings joy to young and old.
poem by Geraldine Fernandez
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Declining Forgiveness
We must help those whose lives,
Are stuck in an unchanged past.
It is difficult for them to accept,
The times now out of their grasp.
With embellished insecurities...
Of memories flourished now gone.
Their mentalities are witnessed to be diminishing quick.
And within themselves,
They can not admit...
These times lived today,
Will not continue to permit...
An attention given,
To such stubbornly held sickness...
They have become riddled and sit with!
We must help those whose lives,
Are stuck in an unchanged past.
It is difficult for them to accept,
The times now out of their grasp.
The challenges ahead requires a collective focus,
That has to exist!
To be drained emotionally by someone misfit...
Detaches an empathy!
With a declining forgiveness,
Decaying with it!
And a healing affect,
Will for all go neglected
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Two Faces Are Better Than One
She carefully took off her face
which she then delicately placed
in a row with her other ones
and she sought a new shinier mask
with which to face the Gathering Night..
She plucked from her Personality Box
a perky, flirty model,
changeable first cold
and then blowing sexy hot
adding to this a mysterious air
from her mood selection repertoire.
These were plied on with make-up
and sweet pouty expressions;
eyes glinting aqua green
from new aqua-marine contact lenses;
she draped her hips with satin and velveteen
daring the full length mirror
to deny her as the prettiest one
who would attend the party that night.
He took off his silly face-
the clown mask-
replacing it with his hero veil,
stern look, and manly pose
and pronouncing himself
an action figure
ready for the evening's gambol.
So marching to their home's door
they faded into the grey light
confident in the faith
that reality's appearances
need only fool a few
for just one important night.
After that
another face is always there
for choosing with just a few minor repairs
can be made serviceable
for another round of night,
of masks, mystery, appearances
in the misty
grey light
of misty
grey lives;
now clinging to
the reality
that sometimes
all that matters
is momentary appearances.
Sad, but true
but understand
it is useful too
in this our society's
masquerade.
After all
should we ban Carnival
in favor of Abstract Reality?
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Reality Bites With a Painful Sting
Flaunting our possessions,
With obsessessed aggressions...
Seems to be, of late, outdated.
Inflated egos held unshakened,
Have suddenly taken a backseat...
To become, today, a display passé.
Who is lesbian or gay or both...
Has diminished innuendos,
And less folks peeking...
From behind closed blinds,
Where for sale signs are exposed!
Something has come to stun.
Affecting the lives of everyone!
Reality bites with a painful sting.
Less is being gossiped about trivial frivolous things!
Why?
People are trying to hide their frightening embarrassments.
A seriousness has descended upon their personal sentiments.
Yesterday good credit ratings,
Had most jumping for joy!
But an ability to pay with card charges has faded away.
A belt tightening comes...
And that can annoy!
Foolish beliefs of getting assistance to relieve them of grief...
Have many steadfast in observations waiting.
With crossed fingers and in prayer...
Staring at planted plastic flamingos on property they glare.
Hoping a miracle will encourage them to fly.
Or at least a temporary high afforded...
Will get them buzzed,
To nudge them slightly for an imagined flight!
These days have brought limitations...
Even for those who are snowbirds!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lack of Depth
The country was founded on racist principles.
It is a fact many can not face.
And...
Here it is in 2009,
They seek evidence to defend their insecurities.
And those who know this is what they do...
Supply it.
It is a game of sorts.
Of a mindless kind.
And harbored behind suburban walls...
Most of the time.
Whether monkeys are on the front pages,
Of newspapers depicting ignorant images...
To disrespect a loved leader.
As a warning to feed the masses.
And printed and defended by those 'innocent'.
Swept away by their own corrupted decadence.
Or displayed in a bookstore window...
With the offerings of President Obama.
To attract attention...
To the depths of their 'nobled' shallowness.
And digressed intentions clearly meant.
Of those lacking intelligence...
As something a degree defines for them.
So sick is all of this.
They seem to celebrate their wickedness.
And intelligence that is of a higher state of mind...
Has never been one of their attributes.
Theft, deception, lieing and hate expressions...
Are the basis of their foundations made.
And so apparent are these...their 'gifts'.
Folks will always find these kinds of people,
Doing the best they can to agitate.
Afterall...
They do feel they are superior!
However...
They are just not convincing enough to be!
Not to those who they expose their lack of depth,
Or express a consciousness.
Unless...
To offend others.
Especially those of color,
They feel free to unleash their demented contempt.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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On A Daily Basis
I am often humbled,
By those expressions made
Regarding my thoughts...
With any impressions,
They have laid to stay in minds.
I find I am fascinated.
Whether appreciated or not,
I have to stop sometimes to wonder.
This I've been doing for such a while now.
And I try to maintain a comprehension about life,
With curiosity.
And that isn't easy to express at times.
Especially when my feelings,
Are not heightened by a respect I should let show.
Finding a pinch given gets more attention,
Than a peck on the cheek with cheesiness.
And I ain't that kind of a writer.
And I've been attacked for being black.
Not because I express that!
But...
Because my comments offend,
Those pretending I should not notice bigotry displayed.
Or that I have not been in contact with racism.
I am aware of Disneyland but I've never been.
I can only elaborate on my own personal encounters.
Especially regarding my own life.
With obstacles, strife and tribulations.
Like others who write and many who do not,
There are things I dislike.
There are aches and pains and sufferings I've gained,
From this experience.
But...
Do I choose to dwell on them?
Sure I do.
When it feels good to do it!
But what purpose is being achieved?
A bonding with agony?
Please.
I was in the military,
With guys who bragged about their wounds.
And displayed scars like badges.
On the regular.
So many people carry and share their frustrations.
As if life is an experience only known to a few who live it!
And I've learned life is to be enjoyed!
With as much happiness one allows.
And I say allow!
Since so many choose not to do that!
Many have chosen to be victims.
Listen to them.
This is not denied.
When I discovered peace of mind...
I did not realize I had to pay for it!
Yes!
It ain't free.
And I did with tears, heartache...
And emotional investments!
With lost dignity too.
I held onto my identity.
I knew early it was precious.
One day my faith awakened me with sunlight so bright!
And nature awaiting my acceptance to share it.
I felt at one with the Earth.
I felt I had to thank it
For allowing me to leech upon its goodness.
And not to my surprise the Earth complied.
I expressed a gratefulness to God,
For all the gifts I received that came unwrapped.
I felt a release from entrapments.
And I rid myself of limitations.
Knowing if I was to be ignorant about anything...
Affecting my experience.
There was a lot of misunderstanding I refused to admit.
I had to let that go.
It showed on my face too much.
Today I choose to be naive.
About many things.
With a clarity that there is so much I'd like to learn.
On a daily basis.
I choose to have my life to live it.
Carrying around bitterness is such a waste of time.
Especially when time, as we know it...
IS for the most part,
A human illusion!
Made to market and appease frustrations.
And shopping can frustrate more than constipation.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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