Stuck Like Glue
You are quite different,
Than what I had expected.
'Who and what did you expect? '
Based on rumors and gossip heard,
You are nothing like that at all...
An injustice has been served.
'Oh?
Not at all.
You must not look at it that way.
I see it as an opportunity...
To get those the attention that they seek.'
I do see this from your point of view.
And after meeting you...
I can understand,
There may be some jealousy and backbiting...
Those who are envious make known in their pursuits.'
'I can not stop doing what I do...
Just to chase little children,
Making grumpy noises as they masquerade...
Jumping up and down to get attention,
Dressed in their monster suits to do a 'BOO'!
I thank God maturity is on my mind,
With an obligation that keeps me stuck like glue! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Subjected to Their Release of Insecurities
You will get and find attention,
IF it is to someone's benefit.
You will be treated with consideration,
IF someone else gets credit for it.
You will also be ignored by those who show and tell.
The subject of charades and gossip.
Someone will initiate a wish not to see you well.
IF you are the one who has peace of mind...
And dismiss conflicts of all kinds.
Someone will produce an obstacle for you.
IF you have managed to survive,
And thrive independently...
You will get and find attention,
From those unaccepting...
You have achieved maturity.
And maturity is a threat,
To those who do not respect who you are!
And 'how' you got that done.
You see...
You will get and find attention,
IF it is to someone's benefit.
Someone who has been stung and stunned!
And as long as you remain,
The fool they believe you to be!
Or that person they perceive provides them comedic relief...
To keep their sensibilities obtained and valued,
You will be subjected to their release of insecurities.
Especially if it is thought,
You are accessible to their antics.
And accustomed...as they see it,
To your own stupidity!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Do, Get Away!
Do, get away!
From those player haters.
Stop that nagging that attracts,
The backbiting of braggers...
Without delay.
And oh oh...
Do, get away!
From the pinch that inches tensions.
Don't give them more attention,
To incense sentiments.
Eliminate that taste.
And oh oh,
Yes...
Do, get away!
From those player haters.
Stop that nagging that attracts,
The backbiting of braggers...
Without delay.
Don't be used as sucker bait.
Or be a loser estimated.
Get yourself away right now today!
Keep your flow going.
Demote those 'whoa-s' that float.
Without delay.
And stop that nagging that attracts,
The backbiting of braggers!
And get yourself away,
Right now...
Today!
Don't let them pay a cent,
As if they pay you rent!
And, get away!
Oooooh do, get away!
From those player haters.
Stop that nagging that attracts,
The backbiting of braggers...
Without delay.
Oooooh,
Stop that nagging that attracts,
The backbiting of braggers...
And get away.
Oooooh,
Stop that nagging that attracts,
The backbiting of braggers...
And get away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Give Them No Credit
Maybe it is believed,
Those who have achieved success...
Seek attention,
From those of mediocre ambitions?
'That doesn't make sense!
None of it.'
Well...
Perhaps it is perceived,
Their expressions of jealousy and envy...
Will attract those of peace of mind,
To want to be around them all the time.
'That sounds just as sick as your first explanation.'
Then maybe they are just crazed.
And they are given too much attention.
Perhaps you are 'feeling' them with empathy...
Not realizing insanity has already smothered them enough.
And you are trying to find an excuse,
That gives them a purpose for their existence.
'There has to be a reason why God made pests!
Something my mind has not been able to digest! '
You should give your mind a rest.
And give them no credit for being near one.
And leave whatever they are or are not,
Alone!
It is obvious they are attempting to addict you.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Selfish Contradictions
If people are not able to 'see' things
From an expected adult point of view...
Who is responsible for that?
Who held them back from this process?
And why in adulthood...
Their childishness reacts.
It is clearly not attractive.
And those who allowed this lack,
To appear in childish ways.
Did not teach them to reach comprehension...
With a complete understanding,
As immaturity was displayed.
Many will never wake up to 'see'.
No matter who shouts.
Or points this ignorance out.
And others who have been awakened so long,
Have felt the obligation,
To state what they felt to them was then wrong.
And brought that to someone's attention.
They made it a need for it to be mentioned.
A self centeredness was condoned.
In and outside the home.
And this did not end for them.
Resulting in selfish contradictions...
Of what is expected.
Yet reflects upon that,
Which has been neglected!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Football Stole my Man: A Song
Woke to the alarm clock a screaming
Pulling my away from all of my dreaming
the morning sun is hazy and grey, telling me it’s
Time to start my day: everyday seems just the same
And his mind is on that damn ole game
Sunday comes and he is hanging with the boys
They are out in the back jumping around and making all that noise
I just sit back and try to understand
How football came and stole away my man
His mind is drifting away again
I feel like I lost my best friend
I could back up and go away
A tired lady with three kids in tow
~laugh~ but no I know I will stay
Sunday comes and he is hanging with the boys
They are out in the back jumping around and making all that noise
I just sit back and try to understand
How football came and stole away my man
Saturday night and I put my make-up on and do my hair up pretty
Get all dressed up and take him to the city
And try to rekindle that old flame
Try to get back to where we began
When there was no football, just me and my man
but
Sunday comes and he is hanging with the boys
They are out in the back jumping around and making all that noise
I just sit back and try to understand
How football came and stole away my man
One more Sunday and we are hanging with the boys
Jumping around and making all that damn noise
Now that I am a fan
It is just football me and my man
© JPM 1/25/09
Kitchen Bitches
Round table they all meet, set up in the kitchen.
They had a book highlighted with their so call friends name,
They all did their homework report and came to tell about the information that they've gather.
Pour their tea ready to talk about anecdotes,
the conversation is backbiting about their friends life
The kitchens bitches spread intimating rumors about they friends who live way better than the kitchen bitches
They begin with 'word of the mouth is! '
They love to gossip, it is like a rush they need every week,
this meeting make them feel good about themselves and also put them in the right mood
'Gossip conference is over, so next week lets meet at a new location! '
Their small minds discuss people, but they're blind to see that they own life is more mess up than anyone on the block.
Kitchen bitches only dislike gossip is when you gossip about them.
Ever member of the kitchen bitches even talk about the misssing member when they move to a different kitchen.
poem by Brittany Wongus
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To Then Leave
The seeking to get attention business,
Isn't all what it cracks up to be.
Those who seek no attention,
Are chased by those disbelieving,
No one wants to keep peace selfishly...
To be left alone.
And these might be the ones who first sought attention,
Initially.
Now...
Those who seek to get attention,
And with passion disguised by a lust...
Accompanied with deep breathing,
Could frighten someone seeking just to tease.
To then leave quietly...
To then go home to self satisfy.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What Would Be The Point
What would be the point,
If a blade of grass
Was not meant to feel,
Its importance?
Would it be inspired to grow?
And to whom and what,
Does it attempt to impress?
Another blade of grass,
That stretches to grow fast
From its seed.
What would be the point,
If no flower bloomed.
To provide the bees,
With no nectar to gather.
To return to a hive.
Does it do this,
To keep itself alive?
What would be the point,
For the trees to exist?
If the leaves that grew from them,
Did not assist in the mixture of air.
That helped us breathe.
Do the trees do this,
To flaunt its deeds?
And what would be the point,
For us to seek love.
If all we did with it was to argue,
Again and again as if to win
Debates,
As to who is more deserving
To appreciate this gift of life?
With a stubbornness to convince,
Who is wrong.
And who is right.
What would be the point,
To argue, fuss and fight
If all of us knew this gift of life,
Was meant.
If not
Who's side of the argument makes sense?
If we all are here,
Getting the same attention.
And perhaps
In getting that attention,
There is envy and jealousy?
And anyone who says they believe with faith
Would observe that God has created abundance.
And those who choose to take and not give,
Seem to the ones self destructing.
At their own expense!
To make what point?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Noises
(ian hunter/tommy morrongiello)
Noises are taking away my freedom.
Noises seem to rob me of myself.
Noises are the sound of mediocrity.
Noises ... to take that ... from out of myself.
Noises are taking away my casualness.
Noises are making me scared.
Big noises are made by big shots.
Some noises should never be heard.
Noises,
Noises,
Noises,
Noises,
Give me noises!
Noises are looking over my shoulder.
Noises are the sound of the herd.
Noises make the planet colder.
Noises are noises that should never be heard.
Noises,
Noises,
Noises,
Noises will destroy me.
Noises ...
Why not join some junky jewels, who wreck the clines on canvas fools
Who take the vapours from the mind. neo nothing. shallow kind.
A ritzy nazi owns the game, he plays at God but that was fame
And music masturbates his mind, and stones get rolled up in the slime
A new york butch becomes a blond, while changing gears while from beyond
Agree to consecrate the music makers have gotta take
Owls with trowels as big as spades, dig down among those sequined graves.
Work out their ages, turn the pages, caught in cages, locked in ages
Media momenta, who can prevent her.
Noises, noises, noises, noises
Did you find a certain street, theyre looking for thoughtless thoughts to preach
The street, the street, theyre not your drain, while waiting in the pouring rain
For your old lady out of work, brought the baby, bet your shirt
Waiting for godot did it, then whats happening the other end - rewards
And gallant knights with blunted swords
Locked away in isolation, trying to figure out why they wanna die
And thats the state of the nation.
Noises,
Noises,
Noises,
Noises, oh, oh, oh.
I love noises!
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sold On Ridiculousness
There is nothing like feeding the mind by reading.
Or paying attention by listening.
And connecting these elements with observation.
There is nothing like it!
There is nothing that addresses comprehension,
Better than what has been mentioned.
But then again...
There will be those who will waste debate,
To satisfy themselves and their pretensions!
With discussions about the quality of the approach delivered.
And IF it 'twas handled with appropriate etiquette.
As relating to the current season.
And whether or not...
The credentials of the messenger impressed.
'All that just to pay attention to something? '
I've seen some folks sold on ridiculousness!
Based upon what color they were...
And how they were dressed.
'I'm willing to bet that's how this mess was created! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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They Know That They Don't Know
They know that they don't know!
And their opinions discloses the evidence.
Most of their knowledge has been obtained,
By innuendos and nonsense.
Leaving them exposed,
To an ignorance that shows.
They know that they don't know!
And any actions taken to comprehend...
Becomes entrapped by an inferiority,
Felt within them.
And that which escapes their understanding...
Is left out of their reach.
Although very close...
Are those answers they seek most.
But quick they fold their arms to their chests,
With stubborn hands to express...
Their choice not to hear,
What for them is best!
Declaring they wish not to listen...
Because facts distracts,
A consciousness they lack!
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it...
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it...
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
They know that they don't know,
With their minds closed.
They know that they don't know,
With their minds closed.
They know that they don't know,
With their minds closed.
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
They know that they don't know...
And it shows.
They know that they don't know...
And it shows.
They know that they don't know...
And it shows.
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
They know that they don't!
Stubborn and they're limited.
They know that they don't!
Stubborn and they're limited.
They know that they don't!
Stubborn and they're limited.
Stubborn and they're limited.
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My life Lived Is Not Created From An Assumption
Never will I waste my time,
In argument to define my mind.
With someone who professes to know,
My predicament.
And wish to debate decisions I make...
From their point of view to dissect and undo.
If I say what I've done from my own experience,
Has made a difference in the way...
I perceive and display,
The actions I make!
That has nothing to do with anyone who assumes,
Who I am with a retaliation to influence misunderstanding.
My life lived is not created from an assumption!
For anyone to come along to dump their opinions,
Based upon what they have heard through gossip.
If someone wishes to know what my thoughts are,
They need to come to the source.
And not try to endorse beliefs perceived to deceive.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Kozie
'Saltpond'
Stated,
Disclosure,
Obligation,
But with the legislation!
And, Kozie chaired the meeting.
Opinion leaders,
Wanton desires,
Of straight marriages;
And, to go top-free! !
But Kozie chaired the meeting,
And, we all paid attention.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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They Want You To Pay Them Attention
Why aren't you paying them any attention?
'Who? '
The ones ignoring you.
'Huh? '
Yeah!
They want you to pay them attention,
So they can ignore you.
'But...
Isn't that what they are doing? '
YES!
But you are not expected to show,
You could care less about it!
'Oh...
I see.
So...
Maybe they are the ones seeking attention,
And giving it to me...
In the hopes I notice it.
But pretend I don't suspect it is from them.'
I don't know!
Is that the message you want me to deliver?
'Huh?
When did the minding of my own business,
Become their focus? '
Don't ask me!
I was told to get you to look their way.
So they can ignore you!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Attention turning.
Like light fading from a day.
Messages in the distance,
Noises from afar.
Not heard anymore.
Just irritating,
Like a noisy car.
Like light fading from
A winters` day inexorably.
You cannot please everyone.
Sometimes,
You just have to say
That was yesterday.
But like before
My attention is turning,
A little back to you
Right now,
But soon.
There will be a different song,
And attention turning
Will begin
From this sad ol`place
Of inbetween loves.
poem by Peter Vealey
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Heaven In My Hands (US Remix)
I'm going nowhere
Gotta face up to it
Gotta wake up to it
I feel so guilty
Killing time is a sin
A dam burst of dreams flows thru' me
They show me where I could be
Flash point feelings flow
Thru' my mind moving
When my friends tell me
You just can't connect
You ain't got no respect
They tell me nothing
'Cos I know about that
Yes I know about that
I'm not gonna take what people say
Don't feel that I belong today
Sense of freedom and
Sense of pride
From the mountains to the sea
I'll run across this land
Looking out for strength and beauty
A diamond in the sand
And I will chase the four winds over
Trying to understand
And I won't stop until I'm holding
Heaven in my hands
I won't let nobody
Turn me off the track
Now there's no turning back
Won't let no worries
Turn my inside down
Now there's no room for doubt
I'm heading for my destiny
And it feels electric to me
Flash point feelings flow
Thru' my mind
I was lonely going nowhere
Drowning on dry land
I was almost stranded there a
Shipwreck on the sand
But now I'll chase the whole world over
Making my demands
And I won't stop until I'm holding
Heaven in my hands
From the mountains to the sea
I'll run across this land
Looking out for strength and beauty
A diamond in the sand
And I will chase the four winds over
Trying to understand
And I won't stop until I'm holding
Heaven in my hands
I was lonely going nowhere
Drowning on dry land
I was almost stranded there a
Shipwreck on the sand
But now I'll chase the whole world over
Making my demands
And I won't stop until I'm holding
Heaven in my hands
(Repeat
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heaven In My Hands
I'm going nowhere
Gotta face up to it
Gotta wake up to it
I feel so guilty
Killing time is a sin
A dam burst of dreams flows thru' me
They show me where I could be
Flash point feelings flow
Thru' my mind moving
When my friends tell me
You just can't connect
You ain't got no respect
They tell me nothing
'Cos I know about that
Yes I know about that
I'm not gonna take what people say
Don't feel that I belong today
Sense of freedom and
Sense of pride
From the mountains to the sea
I'll run across this land
Looking out for strength and beauty
A diamond in the sand
And I will chase the four winds over
Trying to understand
And I won't stop until I'm holding
Heaven in my hands
I won't let nobody
Turn me off the track
Now there's no turning back
Won't let no worries
Turn my inside down
Now there's no room for doubt
I'm heading for my destiny
And it feels electric to me
Flash point feelings flow
Thru' my mind
I was lonely going nowhere
Drowning on dry land
I was almost stranded there a
Shipwreck on the sand
But now I'll chase the whole world over
Making my demands
And I won't stop until I'm holding
Heaven in my hands
From the mountains to the sea
I'll run across this land
Looking out for strength and beauty
A diamond in the sand
And I will chase the four winds over
Trying to understand
And I won't stop until I'm holding
Heaven in my hands
I was lonely going nowhere
Drowning on dry land
I was almost stranded there a
Shipwreck on the sand
But now I'll chase the whole world over
Making my demands
And I won't stop until I'm holding
Heaven in my hands
(Repeat)
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Influence And Prestige
Keeping one's mind fantasized,
Does not return good dividends.
Nor does the hoarding of truth,
Keeps it unavoidable.
No one playing this game of Bingo,
Is going to be heard to win.
And...
The starting all over with new rules,
To school those unaccustomed to discipline...
Will not gain the attention,
Those grabbing onto their balls...
With threats to leave with perceptions they lead.
They follow themselves,
Down the road of bigger not better delusions.
With beliefs they can make someone listen,
To more created tales,
About their influence and prestige...
That has resulted in jealousy and envy.
'What are you whining about now? '
A 'piper' carrying a batch of promissary notes.
And a reluctance shown to masquerade,
Unpaid.
You didn't hear that from me.
I'm not the one whining.
I'm observing. Remember that!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Are Such An Actor
You have been a highly acclaimed person,
For a number of years.
And yet you do not appear to be on anyone's radar.
Very few people know who you are.
Why are you flying so low?
Is that intentional?
'What are you saying?
What point are you making? '
If more people knew who you were,
You would be respected more.
'And that is a very sad commentary to make,
About today's people.
Isn't it?
To think one has to first impress others,
With a doing that gets attention mentioned...
To then be treated as a human being?
Oh, I just wake up everyday praying,
For that kind of notoriety! '
You should.
'And why is that? '
It would make me feel better to say,
I know you.
'Stop it. Stop it.
The thought of it gives me goose bumps.
To think my efforts known by more people,
Would enhance the only purpose you have in your life...
To feel better about yourself.
Oh 'wow' I'm beginning to feel such a rush that thrills me inside.'
You are such an actor.
'And you should find something else to do,
Than wasting your time trying to find how mine operates.
If I sought to seek that kind of attention,
I would have long devoted myself in re-creating the wheel.'
And what does that mean?
'Having no ambition and stealing from others,
What had already been invented.
To then set my aim to make claims of what I've done.
With my eyes affixed to fame and glory.
Like nearly everyone who wishes a 'Reality Show'.
Why haven't you done that?
That would have made it a lot easy for me to accept.
'With the giving to me respect,
Right? '
Of course.
Those reality shows are so...
Real.
'And hollow of any sign of content.'
Yep. You are out of touch.
'Thank you.
And I am glad very few have noticed,
Just how distant and out of touch I am and can be.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Full Attention
The tiger took his merry time
Wading in the water...
Why shouldn't he? It felt sublime,
Perfectly in order...
So he went up and he went down
And he went left and right
And though each stripe looked like a frown,
His joy was at its height...
This is the life, he seemed to say,
Nothing else quite like it!
No hurry to be on his way,
In truth, he must admit!
Up to his neck in Shangri-La,
Nirvana, Heaven, peace...
It wasn't likely he'd go far,
When he could take his ease.
Did it have his full attention?
Yes, he felt comfy there...
Had he lost all apprehension?
He didn't have a care!
No point in leaving for a while...
So he felt mighty glad...
If anything can make you smile,
Like him, get stuck in, lad...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Full Attention'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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