Stung By Ego
They all lay claims
On talents they have.
As if to aim their comments,
Towards someone believed
To be ego driven mad.
But anyone who is blessed
With gifts.
Understand that God
Wants them to work the ones
They have been blessed with.
To sit around and just make claims...
Only proves and displays a laziness gained.
And anyone who is not stung by ego...
Knows this sometimes,
Is not only heaven but most times hell!
As others who have visions of fame...
Are asleep to awaken,
With talents and gifts 'they' may know
Worthy of showing to produce to tell.
But seem to have less time to apply them,
And more time to find flourishing lies that swell...
Their heads!
With embellishment to relish,
Instead!
As they raise their lips in conceit,
To flap well!
As they prop up their feet,
In front of a TV.
Sitting their behinds on spreading seats,
To snack and eat!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Talents Die Easily In Africa!
Oh talents, oh talents!
Talents do die easily in Africa;
But, talents are special gifts which,
Money cannot buy.
It is a special gift,
It is in you,
You don't even need a Higher Degree for them;
Talents are everywhere on this earth.
The talents of Africa do die very often,
Who is even ready to listen to them?
The true talents of the Africans go to the drain.
Like a rain on a train,
Like an early wake up call without a view;
Life is really so strange over here in Africa.
I have a dream!
But, who will listen?
My brain is with various talents but,
Who will help me with my dreams?
Talents, talents, talents! !
Africa turns to regress in this field while,
Others do progress!
Our talents can be useful,
It's time we give a helping hand;
Oh talents, oh talents!
It's time we listen to those who have them;
Cos', we are the world.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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How Blessed Am I
How blessed am I for being born
Of parents good and God-fearing!
How blessed am I for siblings nine
Who made my childhood truly great!
How blessed am I for being made
Handsome and healthy, fair and hale!
How blessed am I for gaining ken
And virtues, wisdom, fortitude!
How blessed am I for being reared
So well by parents dutiful!
How blessed am I for achievements
Quite praiseworthy in life on earth!
How blessed am I for having fared
So well in life in every field!
How blessed am I for talents, gifts
That most men cannot dream to have!
How blessed am I for miracles
That gave my life a newer lease!
How blessed am I for finding time
To thank and praise the Almighty!
How blessed am I for grace of God
That goads me on in heaven’s road!
How blessed am I for everything
God gave me amply in His time!
How blessed am I for love of God
That chose me to be Christian!
How blessed am I for hope and faith
That help me follow Jesus’ steps!
How blessed am I for poesy
That made my life stress-free, worthwhile!
How blessed am I for God’s with me
And I’m with Him in earthly life!
poem by John Celes
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My Creator Is My Manager
I admit...
There are gifts and talents,
I was born with.
I never had desires to 'be'.
I just 'was'.
And took what I had for granted.
At one time I really did this.
I've been asked where I've studied.
And who has mentored me.
My response has always been The Creator.
To which then I get looks of disbelief.
And as I age and 'try' to mellow,
Others suggest I could be rich...
If I did 'this' and 'that' with my talents and gifts.
But things and bling and money it seems...
Has never attracted my consciousness.
If this happens to come to me as my Creator's wish,
Then by all means...
Those things will come to pay me a visit.
But thankful I am and tremendously blessed.
My Creator is my manager.
And I know what for me is best.
Perhaps my Creator,
Believes what I've been given is priceless.
And I have been nourishing myself,
With the feeding on delusions.
Whatever my Creator proposes,
Is the path I follow not to oppose.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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With Less Sweat
Why is it,
That someone will waste their skills...
And talents,
With a wish to perform with the giving of their gifts...
On someone else's created stage,
To shower them with 'their' brilliance.
Why would someone abandoned their own abilities,
To create their own stage from those resources given...
With a highlighting of those,
Who will not be demeaned because it is known...
They have a need to fit into the wrong places.
With a giving away to others...
Who look to make claims of discoveries stolen,
To produce their own names to be seen in lights.
Leaving people with talents to fight,
To be seen...
Only to have what they bring,
Used.
To be 'thanked' but excused from the audition process.
I 'feel' for those who are told their presence is not needed.
But their unique talents exposed were certainly used,
To be re-labelled and approved for purposes to market.
And...
With less sweat that had been sacrificed.
At the expense of stealing from someone their scene.
'We're sorry.
However,
Thank you for sharing with us your unique abilities.
We'll keep your 'info' in our files.
Expect to hear from us...
One day.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tricks For a Slick Visit
Those who expose and show,
They are not afraid
To use their 'gifts' for the benefit of others...
To share.
And care that they become 'lifted',
Are blessed...
With talents and skills,
Only our God supplies!
Although despised by those 'twisted'.
They are quite different,
Than those who give.
Those who say they do things done...
To mask attention sought with the aid of lies.
Disguised on the run!
And crimes like these...
Eventually reveal false deeds.
Masquerading what is believed...
Pleases the 'ego' of God.
Wickedness like this,
Does not cure those mentally sick.
Nor their hidden wishes to seek favor,
From a 'Deity' quite familiar with them who labor...
Honestly from depths that frees,
A devotion from tricks for just a slick visit
With notoriety!
Or a place they soon find,
Does not shine on cloaked behinds!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Might Create Friction
Those blessed with gifts and talents,
Aren't aware who has or has not.
Someone with an appetite,
Seeks to be fed.
And a feeding them of something,
Someone else may like...
Is often not the right thing to do.
You will be told.
And this might create friction.
Those blessed with gifts and talents,
Aren't aware who has or has not.
Someone with an appetite,
Seeks to be fed.
And a feeding them of something,
Someone else may like...
Is often not the right thing to do.
You will be told.
And this might create friction.
Or a repeated reminder!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Thank God For The Critics
It use to bother me when I heard others say,
Who did or did not have talent.
And I believe one who breathes has skills,
Of some kind.
I like to stay in that frame of mind.
Then it dawned on me,
If those who had time to speak negatively...
Of course they would have time to pass judgement too.
And with a 'light' of insight,
I was introduced!
'These are the critics! Enjoy.'
And they seem to despise those who have gifts,
That attracts the attention they wish their efforts could.
If efforts of creativity within them exists.
Rehearsed and practiced until they are driven into fits.
But they don't work at it.
To know the experience.
Nor the requirements of self examination and honesty.
With a mix of naïveté and vulnerability unbelieved.
Keeping an accepted freshness alive.
And talents shine when this is done!
This also inspires and encourages at least 'someone'.
Thank God for the critics.
And those with talents who are inspired to resist,
The exchange done of sharp tongues.
And those with frowning lips.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Those Who Laughed With Time To Waste
I never sought to be taken for a fool.
But there were those foolish enough,
Not to believe I was serious.
And perhaps that seriousness,
Had been misinterpreted.
And I have never elected,
To see them in that way.
Anyone making attempts,
To express their gifts and talents...
With intent,
Gained my respect.
Since I knew what that took.
I knew too well what that meant.
With those comments made by some and done,
And time that has come many have tried to shun...
I still have not been the one to evaluate.
A progress made.
However...
Few I knew have made great strides.
While those who laughed with time to waste...
Seem to have vanished to other places,
To grace their faces with fates they've faked.
Or wish to make attempts to do it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sonnet: Human Talents
Human beings are made of finer stuff!
Some introspection will reveal the same;
Some have many talents- This is no bluff;
If well-nurtured, they give him name and fame.
But where is the time to do all these things?
Time is so short, most precious and fleeting;
Much of it is wasted just like hot drinks,
In worthless things, in glamour and eating.
Time is lost in unknown ways every day;
A lot too in emotional reactions;
Time can be saved in a sensible way;
Talents give success by proper actions.
O man, search thy mind and heart for talents;
You’ll surely find them in measures immense.
poem by John Celes
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Who Would I Convince?
What are you doing?
'I've awakened this morning,
Deciding I would get serious.'
Serious?
Serious about what?
'My creative abilities.
And expand upon my capabilities.'
I thought you were applying that?
Haven't you been serious?
'Naw,
I was just testing a few ideas.
A few concepts.
Now...
I am ready to begin to unleash my talents.'
So what is that you are doing?
'I've begun to scratch the surface!
How else should I start.
How else should I begin?
I am removing the dust from it now.'
What about the people?
'What people?
What about them?
The people who believe,
They've 'already' been exposed to your 'gifts'...
Those...
Talents?
Or whatever they are called.
'My gifts?
Exposed?
I haven't unwrapped them yet!
Who has been spreading these rumors?
Folks aint got nothing else to do but lie?
OH?
Oh...
They believe my rehearsals,
Have been the real deal!
Hopefully I will be forgiven,
When I reveal the actual product!
And I've got several to launch.
I forgot!
People will accept 'anything' remotely expressing 'talent',
As the real deal.
Wow.
I have to remind myself about that.
Don't you say a word to anyone about this.
You hear me? '
Even if I did...
Who would I convince?
There are some people who actually believe,
They've been exposed to your greatest work.
'LOL...
Ssshhh,
I know.
LOL...
I know!
Stop it,
My stomach hurts.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Quieting Their Egos and Putting Out Their 'Lights
It takes more than a winning attitude,
To actually produce a win.
Some believe it is owed to them.
Those accustomed to adulation.
And no one wins alone!
Some 'superstars' have found this out.
After unknowns have captured their throwns.
It takes more than a winning attitude,
To actually produce a win.
Some believe it is owed to them.
Those accustomed to adulation.
And overpaid folks,
Often provoked jokes...
When their talents and skills,
From them take a hike.
Overnight they might rise,
To heights of fame and glory.
But at a blink of an eye...
Their blessed gifts have been diminished.
And no one wins alone!
Some 'superstars' have found this out.
After unknowns have captured their throwns.
Quieting their egos and putting out their 'lights'.
'Where is that championship you promised us? '
~Well, I...er...um...uh.
Well...
Uh...oh...uh...er ...~
'You can always blame it on the 'bling'.
And not the 'brawn' you didn't bring.
It doesn't pay to believe one's own hype.'
~Well, I...er...um...uh,
Right. Right! ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Going To Find That Time To Be Available
I find I remain available,
For that which I am blessed to get done.
I don't sit and find excuses to express my gifts.
Nor hesitate to create...
With both curiousity and gratefulness appreciated.
I find I remain available,
For that which I am blessed to get done.
I feel that which I am able to get done and do...
Is an obligation I have chosen to devote and love.
And I am going to find that time to be available!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Based Upon Materialistic Concepts
I can not call my breathing a hobby.
Nor do I relate,
To those who associate creativity...
To a dollar bill.
And there are many like that.
Attached to things.
Disconnected spiritually...
To any talents or gifts,
To them God brings!
When asked how much I 'make'...
I get irate with folks like that.
And those who say they have no time to create...
I know right away,
With them I do not relate.
And those who say they have faith in God...
To only admit,
They do not accept God given talents,
Are their main jobs.
I have limited patience.
Knowing from them,
I can only expect a production of excuses.
Based upon materialistic concepts.
And as I age...
From folks like this,
I wish to keep my distance.
And God kept pleased!
Since He is the only One,
To know where I come from.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Each Day You Live
Feel blessed.
Give thanks and be grateful.
Your talents and gifts
May not be like those of your neighbors.
But that does not diminish your value.
And you are valued.
If you weren't...
The Sun would not shine upon you!
Even when you felt a little bit cloudy.
And sometimes drench with a cleansing rain.
But it is all good.
All of it.
Only if you saw it that way,
Each day you live...
With life given to you.
You would think of them as priceless.
Each and every day.
And glow knowing it!
Having no one in a position to assess you at all!
How could they?
When you are among God's treasures.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We Each Have Gifts To Us Given
We each have gifts to us given.
God condones alone,
And blesses us with.
They can be shared,
But not transferred...
As if to bargain.
For something else preferred.
Some choose to dismiss those gifts,
For a seeking to find,
Something of value to define.
But everyone is blessed,
With a treasure chest.
And uncovering that to discover,
Is in one's frame of mind.
To eventually appreciate!
And for many this might take time.
With an unwinding that takes patience.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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For Those Who Are Gifted
These gifts to me have not been given,
To let sit and observe their rust.
But to constantly polish and share their lustre.
And I perceive this mission as a must.
For those who are gifted,
With talents they let drift away.
Seem too quick to earn a dollar from them...
Only to quit to say,
The worth of their gifts...
Did not return to them any profit!
These gifts to me have not been given,
To let sit and observe their rust.
But to constantly polish and share their lustre.
And I perceive this mission as a must.
One blessed by God...
Should first serve His purpose.
With a gratefulness to prove,
A decision God has made...
Was done to shine forth a light!
To move where He chooses,
Whether day or night.
Not to smother in unthankfulness.
To offer God one's attititude.
Why do people do this?
Take for granted what God does...
Then choose to dismiss it?
To satify egos others should solicit.
To flaunt and cherish,
As if one merits the attention.
To take and celebrate...
Without a word of God to mention!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Talents
Lucky am I, a well-talented youth;
Umptine talents I possessed- is the truth!
Talents, God has given to all of us;
He decides to defer or allow use.
Some have talents many; some few; some none;
Nurture them, we must whenever we can;
Develop them, ’tis our sacred duty;
Some are ignorant of inner beauty,
Which lies hidden, seek opportunity;
To express; remain not with vanity;
In one’s life; To remain in a shackle!
Let not frustration be thine obstacle.
Just as the male deer knows not its own musk;
Murmur we must not, take desired risk;
Await thy golden time, God gives some day;
Render justice to thine talents some way!
poem by John Celes
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In These Days and Times
It is easy to discredit
Those who have made names for themselves.
Despite the backbiting and the envy concealed by some.
Something childish we 'might' have all once done!
Than it is to maintain an ego...
Full of self and free of reflection,
To detect corrections an introspection makes.
It takes a determined stamina...
Freed of grandeur and awe,
To administer an encouragement.
That is left behind to instill a nourishment!
If this message is not sent,
As it is meant to flourish those...
With less influence they can impose.
Then those who find their fame have no lasting value...
Have used their gifts for naught.
And producing these deeds to feed such an ego,
Has not induced minds...
Needing to be fed enlightenment,
In these days and times!
A selfishness to hoard such talents and gifts...
Leave with the ones they came with.
And nothing of subsistence considered substance,
Can be passed to nurture that is left behind!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This' Some Never Do
There are those uncomfortable...
Living a life,
Kept inside of them hidden.
With wishes their excuses,
Feeds to others a common sense.
Shared among comrades...
Who too are convinced,
Of their respective...
Defensiveness!
There are those uncomfortable...
Living a life,
Kept inside of them hidden.
Believing others to be strickened,
With benefits.
And 'lucky' with talents.
Bestowed with blessed gifts.
As if God is sitting,
On a throne high in the heavens.
Selecting to pick,
Some who are special...
Over others He chooses to dismiss.
And anyone who wishes upon a star...
Knows that applied hard work,
Doesn't guarantee...
These efforts take them very far.
What is done,
Is for the love!
And not for fortunes to fall...
Upon them from up above.
But being grateful and expressing it.
And 'this' some never do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One & The Same
Feat. ndea davenport
One and the same, one and the same
I wish I could see beyond the filthy blue horizon, see what lies ahead of me
Perhaps Id see the path of my own destruction
And avoid my destiny, she said heaven and hell is one and the same boy
She told me heaven and hell, boy, was one and the same
We all meet somewhere in the middle
She told me heaven and hell, boy, is one and the same
I said it cant be true
I wish I could touch you in some totally new fashion
Who are you girl, Im a man, now I cant guarentee your complete satisfaction
So Im gonna do you the very best way I can
She said heaven and hell is one and the same, boy
She told me heaven and hell, boy, is one and the same
We all meet somewhere in the middle
She told me heaven and hell, boy, is one and the same
I said it cant be true
Wish I could find some time to stop and smell the roses
My landlord wont let me be, my head is full of paranoia
New roses, tryin to consume my identity
She said heaven and hell is one and the same, boy
She told me heaven and hell, boy, is one and the same
We all meet somewhere in the middle, yes we do
She told me heaven and hell, boy, is one and the same
I said it cant be true, it just cant be true
Children grow and women produce and men go work and some go stealin (repeat x1)
Heaven and hell (children grow and women produce), here on earth (and men go work and some go stealin) x7
song performed by by Everlast
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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