Tearfully Begging For Forgiveness
Deviant behavior,
Taught!
And thought to be cute,
From one's birth...
Until the budding of appearing youth,
Is not going to be easily subjected...
To campaigns of not being morally accepted.
Capitalism as witnessed,
Has no regard for morality!
Not when the marketing of it...
Is commercialized on TV.
And depicted as sinful...
By those tearfully begging for forgiveness.
After years of preaching wholesomeness...
In robed self righteous stances,
From behind pulpits.
And those who speak truth,
Are chased away as if lepers!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stripped Completely
They've allowed their ideologies,
To ruin their lives to be lived free and pleased.
With the cross breeding of religions.
And practiced beliefs...
A forgiveness relieves them from repeated sins!
From tarnished pulpits preached to remind them.
Devoted to motivating lusts.
Driven by the marketing of temptations.
And soothed like trained mice...
Taught and conditioned.
To be controlled.
Accepting they do,
What they been told.
And stripped completely from those identities...
Few are bold enough to strut.
And behold...
Without being corrupted!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Benefits of a Suppression
As a show of unified belligerence,
They defy truth...
And those who speak it!
Coming together as they do,
In a mental collective sickness.
One of consciousness would not believe,
If not witnessed.
It is a torture of sorts.
An oppression they have been taught,
To self inflict.
And they get upset...
Quickly!
If anyone mentions it.
Or assist in its resistance.
This is a brand of slavery,
Without an appearance of a branding done!
And yet accepted by everyone addicted.
For all of the benefits,
Of a suppression they get!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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More Than A Forgiveness Wished
It has to be traumatic,
To approach and seek a forgiveness...
From those one has actively victimized.
Especially if such activities,
Have been publicly applied.
And over the years has denied those,
The opportunity to provide a decent income...
For themselves or anyone else.
It has to be traumatic,
To approach and seek a forgiveness...
From those one has actively victimized.
And then one day it is discovered,
Those who had been subjected to misery...
Are more influential than one thought them to be.
And the discovery of this,
Leaves one with more than a forgiveness...
Wished!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Whatever It Is That Has Them Possessed
Your children exemplify,
Some of the most atrocious behavior...
We have ever witnessed.
They are disobedient, obnoxious...
Rude and disrespectful.
And they have no regard for others. Period!
'And...
What are you saying?
My children do not possess leadership qualities? '
No!
That may be true.
However...
Whatever it is that has them possessed,
We are requesting you take them elsewhere...
To allow that possession an outlet to thrive.
But here, their behavior is not condoned.
Oh...
And here is the brick your son threw through my window.
Yesterday!
I signed and dated it for you as a reminder.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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As Many Dawns of Growth Have Come to Go!
Feeding into camouflaged demonics,
Has left too many bleeding.
Ironically...
With a seething done.
That does not relieve.
A pleading to God to be freed of temptations...
Doesn't come so quick.
To those with religious addictions.
With scriptures to quote.
And their frequent Sunday visits.
These folks are shakened,
By devastated awakenings.
As many dawns of growth,
Have come to go ignored.
With their faces etched reflecting death...
Appearing slowly.
As if fetched by a lost pet.
Unexpected!
But returning home to a consciousness...
Once so disconnected and delusioned.
And confused by a truth refused.
While those nearing...'death'!
Have yet to experience a life,
Qualified to live.
Since others have projected,
Their own version of wholesomeness.
That they have yet subjected!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Is the Kind of Life
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
We are born to believe,
What is fed to us.
This 'feeding' is received...
And what is perceived,
We with others retrieve with like minds!
Preferring to find those of the same kind,
With like 'experiences' shared without fear!
And fear keeps us all indoctrinated to accept doubt!
Isn't that what marketing peace is about?
With the realization it will never be found...
As we rely on the production of conflict and confusion,
To always be identified!
Knowing that as well as we do.
And hoping this in our lives stays around!
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
And is kept alive to thrive...
In comfort zones,
Until the day we die!
Leaving those who defy these 'truths'...
Spilling their guts out in confession booths.
Or squeezing themselves to sit in pews...
As they listen to hypocrites from pulpits preach,
To leech on minds already screwed and confused!
And this is the kind of life,
We all have come to love!
Listening to teachings,
That 'demons' from hell have no wings...
Allowing to be demoralized on Sunday,
Learning more about the devil...
As we hear these 'disciples' sing!
And this is the kind of life,
We all have come to love!
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Swagger
With a walk of pride,
And heads held high.
Displaying a confidence seen and undenied.
Some come to think of this still as arrogance.
Anyone appearing dignified and proud,
With an identity that speaks out loud...
And arrogance is applied to this stride that clouds,
Today's definition
Swagger is what that is called today.
In my day...
In times that seem so far away.
To act as if one was a foolish clown...
Was one who was down to Earth.
And had been taught this was acceptable,
With a teaching of this from one's birth.
Being a fool was preferred behavior.
In cycles where dysfunctions were revered.
Many times I was told I wasn't a bag of chips.
But easily spotted as a dim-witted dip!
To display one's intelligence...
Was for some an embarrassment.
Today...
Those 'dips' done by the ones with wit,
Appear to have a lot of emulated swagger.
With a hip-hop that raps and rocks!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In a single moment, we witnessed the worst of human behavior. And in the next, the very best of human behavior. And even more, we witnessed the tremendous spirit of Americans.
quote by Jane D. Hull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What are you teaching truth or propaganda?
Smoke clouding the sanity
Sounds twisting the morality
Of the hopeful minds
Of the altering youth
The youth
That is taught to hate
Taught to believe what you tell them
Taught that difference is incorrect
That being unique is a curse
Yes we not taught racism
Or sexism or even nationalism
But we are taught that we are the same
That we in actual fact are not equal
We are taught through hierarchy
We are taught that some are higher and lower
Taught that we are wrong unless supported
You twist our minds with scores
You teach us with systems
Of merits demerits
Money and career placement
How can you judge character on a paper
How can you know what lies beneath
When it is written in a 2d image
How can you know that it's from the heart?
Would you ever understand?
That life is experience
Not observation and documents
Anyone can exist on paper
But what about in reality
What do you consider reality?
Numbers typed in a computer
That you are only worth what you offer
No reality is
That there is no right or wrong
That life is cruel
That the only way to survive
Is through the system
That in factual truth we are all equal
That there is no black or white
Only grey.
poem by Courtenay Maree
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Erratic
They can not grasp
The onslaught of thought!
Erratic.
Dramatic destruction
Shows an ignorance taught!
Peace is not going to be won or bought...
By past actions of power.
This is not the hour,
For displays of that might.
It isolates the aggressor,
And promotes a call for more to fight!
Erratic behavior creates a stagnant insight.
And the stronger one weakens...
Losing all to a mental blight!
Erratic they are
Who believe such stances are right.
Goodbye say the allies,
Without a kiss to wish goodnight!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mad At Last
It's sad when truth fails to be recognized.
To speak it is detrimental.
Those holding onto it are treated as traitors.
A structured belief system is crumbling.
The Infrastructure is stressed from neglect.
A forever in plastic face lifts,
With a nip and tuck to remove signs of reality
Is getting cheaper.
Diseased minds are crazed.
Lieing is the rage and accepted.
The fear of being human is fading.
Truth is being degraded into negativity!
Prisons are overcrowded...
Filled to the brim!
People are denying they are dieing from disorders!
The insane are begging for police to protect them...
From their own children!
And preachers are selling fraud,
To live tax free.
As they sweat in silk suits dancing on pulpits!
Madness is churning madness!
The strings of puppets are burning fast!
We are removed from comforts known in the past!
Madness is here!
Free to be mad!
Thanks be to the shoddy in everybody!
We are all here today and mad at last!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Condition of Traditions
How will we handle,
The complete absence of fading values.
And the dismissing of those messages,
Through the years.
Those messages missed and blocked,
By closed ears.
How will we handle the loss of standards,
And our way of self righteous life.
How will we handle the right 'not' to fight,
In needless struggle.
Or clinched our teeth upon a bullet...
As tormenting pain surrounds,
To black and whiten...
Dimming colorized sights.
How will we handle scandle,
And revelations disbelieved.
How many awakened from deep and peaceful sleep,
Will move forward and aware they are seeking outreach.
And...
Just how many will be amused,
By thoughts of being used and abused by slick trickers!
Soliciting more of their conflicts,
In daylight and on city streets.
How can any of this be handled,
While being fixed quickly...
In the midst of this mix!
If...
Conditions of traditions are still disrespected.
Ignored and neglected.
And ammunition is deficient for the ones who are depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
How will we handle,
The complete absence of fading values.
And the dismissing of those messages,
Through the years.
Those messages missed and blocked,
By closed ears.
How will we handle the loss of standards,
And our way of self righteous life.
And ammunition is deficient for the ones who are depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers,
With selfish lives.
Grim and down and out dreamers,
With selfish lives.
And ammunition is deficient for the ones who are depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
With-selfish-lives!
Grim and down and out dreamers.
With-selfish-lives!
Grim and down and out dreamers.
With-selfish-lives!
Just how will we handle the loss of standards,
And our way of self righteous life.
'How can any of this be handled,
While being fixed quickly...
In the midst of this mix!
If...
Conditions of traditions are still disrespected.
Ignored and neglected? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Eye Of The Storm
The eye of the storm is quiet and still.
Don't be afraid of that.
The rage that encircles the stillness within
is unrestricted combat
that is being fought by mindless zombies
marching off to war,
that can never be won by an animated corpse
dying again and what for?
To protect the homeland is what they're told,
a story that they believe.
And so their heads are shaved and they're taught to kill
for the young are so naive.
They believe their leaders and never question
the words, 'Thou shalt not kill.'
And so our youth are once again
caught marching downhill.
Where are the preachers that taught these young men
the commandments, words of God.
Why are there no protests from churches and temples?
Don't you think that odd?
Is it because they are in the eye of the storm
and cannot see the fringes?
Oh speak up holy ones and condemn these wars.
Follow God's challenges.
All of these wars are the storm that's raging
all over this earth.
But the ones who should be preaching outrage
are in the eye of the storm's birth.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The truth in you
I seek the truth in you
The weak lie is not you
So speak up, yes you
The truth hurts but it works
The truth simplifies and dignifies
The truth sooths preserving your youth
I ask the truth of you
Cry now, take a tissue
So speak up, yes you
The truth signifies and modifies
The truth is within and the best way to begin
The truth is a good start especially for sweethearts
I need the truth of you
Simply choose your venue
So speak up, yes you
The truth to any degree
Is a starting point to be free
Just like one and two make three
So speak up, yes you
If you agree
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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A self proclaimed Iconoclast
When preaching to the multitudes
He taught by means of parable
to make it understandable.
Not merely mouthing platitudes.
Religious leaders of today.
Who have risen to prominence
would view it as great offence.
If you should question what they say.
You ask but they do not reply.
You are supposed to just accept
the rules they make as your precept.
A code of conduct to live by.
They daren’t admit they know no more
than you do. Maybe even less
of what they’re trying to express.
A fact they easily ignore.
Too busy building their career
and striving hard to make their name.
To most it’s just a power game.
It’s sad but it is true I fear.
Their myths and legends based upon
the simple truth which was once taught
corrupted now by after thought.
are merely man’s opinion.
They cannot teach what they don’t know.
Although they keep up the pretense
they can produce no evidence.
To show they know the way to go.
Relying on our ignorance.
We are brain washed in early youth
that our religion holds the truth.
There’s little room for tolerance.
You cannot force men to accept
that your way is the only way.
That’s why we’re in a mess today
The leaders of each church reject.
That tolerance can lead the way
to lasting peace and brotherhood
and put an end to shedding blood.
Admit that they have been led astray.
By bigots now and in the past.
Though not a prophet I forsee
no ending to the misery.
A self proclaimed iconoclast.
20-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Breathing Freely
Breathing freely,
And adopting this as my number one...
Priority,
At first...
I brought along with it some guilt.
I was taught from birth,
Doing for others...
Provided me a sense of self worth.
And a doing for myself first,
Was a selfish activity.
And I thought about this,
Through the years of my giving.
And I thought about this,
With a lesser happiness...
As I continued to live.
If I am not happy,
To whom do I address this?
And who is going to recognize my unhappiness,
Better than I can myself?
And...
I awakened!
As if it was the first time I had witnessed dawn.
Breathing freely,
And adopting this as my number one...
Priority,
At first...
I brought along with it some guilt.
I was taught from birth,
Doing for others...
Provided me a sense of self worth.
And a doing for myself first,
Was a selfish activity.
Today,
Feeling selfish is the least of my concerns.
I am no longer seeking to prove I can be sacrificial.
I've earned and deserve the right to be happy.
Pleasing the needs of others,
To receive disrespect as a benefit?
Is a lesson I have learned not to repeat.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pieces Now Connecting
So happy am I now to live,
To have a mind free.
And the pieces now connecting,
Did not come to fit...
To snuggle,
Perfectly for me to see.
Or feel deep.
Oh so happy am I to have a mind,
Peacefully freed.
And it didn't come to happen,
Easily accepted...
As I thought a peace of mind,
For me...
Would come to be.
I thought all troubles came to be expected.
And easily for me to accept.
I even thought my head was only made to ache.
And easily I accepted.
I thought my life was meant to fear,
And easily I accepted.
With a living in pain to gain...
To easily accept,
And...
To keep it near.
Oh so happy am I to have a mind,
Peacefully freed.
And it didn't come to happen,
Easily accepted...
As I thought a peace of mind,
Would come to be.
For me.
Yes so happy am I now to live,
To have a mind free.
And the pieces now connecting,
Did not come to fit...
To snuggle,
Perfectly for me to see.
Or feel deep.
But now...
Perfectly for me to see.
And I feel deep,
Is a peace...
Within me as it's meant,
To be.
Oh so happy am I now to live,
What fits for me.
With pieces now connecting,
A peace that fits,
Perfectly intended as was meant,
To be.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Insignificant
Whether they were told what to believe...
Or made to conceive it or not!
They were never challenged on their own,
To know!
To seek for themselves,
What was or was not real.
And taught to reject,
From mindsets accepted...
To disregard anything,
That conflicted with a truth...
A life lived to them would bring.
There is a comfort they have with deceit.
And all that is connected,
With the absence of truth.
Whether they were told what to believe...
Or made to conceive it or not!
It was easy to keep them feeling,
Insignificant!
And to use them to deplete,
Of their resources...
That made them look weak,
Helpless, hopeless and appearing needy.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Crowded With Lies
Why are some stunned by truth?
It is not something taught,
One gets accustomed to.
Billions are spent to fantasize.
There is no room for truth,
In a mind crowded with lies.
A progressive mindset,
Has been stunted because of this.
Dismissed are those who wish for reality.
And often they are labelled mavericks.
Or something less flattering,
To ensure their influence has no chance to exist.
Why are some stunned by truth?
It is not something taught,
One gets accustomed to.
Billions are spent to fantasize.
There is no room for truth,
In a mind bombarded and crowded with lies.
And yet those disillusioned,
Pray on Sunday...
To have their lives fixed.
While listening to sermons,
As to how sins and evil have them bewitched.
Their very lives lived are confused in conflicts.
Although truth for many has become feared,
And resisted.
Observed they are...
Bewildered, bothered and betwixted.
Why are some stunned by truth?
It is not something taught,
One gets accustomed to.
Billions are spent to fantasize.
And there is no room for truth,
In a mind bombarded and crowded with lies.
And the marketing of fresh lies...
Is a mainstay in most societies,
That has thrived and survived successfully!
But a continuation of a success like this,
Does not sustain its permanence.
Eventually a strain draining the brain prevents it.
People everywhere and everyday,
Reflect their lack of consciousness.
And revealing a 'craze' that has become accepted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Children's Song
Land of our Birth, we pledge to thee
Our love and toil in the years to be;
When we are grown and take our place
As men and women with our race.
Father in Heaven who lovest all,
Oh, help Thy children when they call;
That they may build from age to age
An undefiled heritage.
Teach us to bear the yoke in youth,
With steadfastness and careful truth;
That, in our time, Thy Grace may give
The Truth whereby the Nations live.
Teach us to rule ourselves alway,
Controlled and cleanly night and day;
That we may bring, if need arise,
No maimed or worthless sacrifice.
Teach us to look in all our ends
On Thee for judge, and not our friends;
That we, with Thee, may walk uncowed
By fear or favour of the crowd.
Teach us the Strength that cannot seek,
By deed or thought, to hurt the weak;
That, under Thee, we may possess
Man's strength to comfort man's distress.
Teach us Delight in simple things,
And Mirth that has no bitter springs;
Forgiveness free of evil done,
And Love to all men 'neath the sun!
Land of our Birth, our faith, our pride,
For whose dear sake our fathers died;
Oh, Motherland, we pledge to thee
Head, heart and hand through the years to be!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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