Testing From a Nest Infested
To ignore those who annoy,
Is a blessing.
A gift to resist the desires of those
Wishing conflict.
Gives a peace within.
And this will never be understood...
By those doing their best,
To attract others to their nonsense.
As they seek a confrontation,
Spiced with agitation.
Testing from a nest infested...
As a pest unrested.
And being aware of this,
Provides a mental lift.
Delivering one to a higher consciousness!
The one who views those who do this as misfits.
As tactics employed by a sleepless surface thinker,
Become useless like a broken toy discarded.
Fading its purpose,
To an ego enjoying limitations that do not nourish!
Or flourish beyond an irritation that has no affect.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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As They Prepare And Await
As they prepare and await to have a confrontation,
Those who have been aware of this...
Have paid them no attention.
None that threatens,
Other motivated intentions.
So they continue to pretend,
Not to notice them.
And since there is a higher consciousness involved,
Those wishing to dissolve their hidden insecurities...
Prove they are clueless,
As to what they should do next...
To further undermine themselves with an undressing,
Of their immaturity and limitations they can not leave.
At least to keep protected from an obviousness.
'What are they doing over there? '
~The obvious.~
'But shouldn't 'they' be aware of it? '
~Yes.
They should.
But apparently not from our point of view.~
'I have an idea.'
~What is it? ~
'Let's pretend with hints we are concerned.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When a Consciousness Begins to Lift
When a consciousness begins to lift...
To leave behind foolishness that exists.
There seems to be an acceptance of it.
As if one realizes,
A birth has been committed.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
A release of limitations,
Easily takes a shift.
No longer is one concerned,
About winning conflicts with enemies burned.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
It becomes easier to observe,
Those disturbed and their afflictions addicted.
Enjoyed and unrestricted.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
It is best to rest.
And let it accept the truth,
That comes with it.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
Expect a shock and some loneliness.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
Those experiencing this,
Are left to feel estranged!
Alienated,
From that...
Which one had thought,
Was sane!
When a consciousness begins to lift...
Enjoy it as a gift.
Unveiling an abundance of understanding.
Connecting a peace that can be reached.
With a wish to share and treat.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
From those taught they should live,
With lives accepted in self defeat!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lift me up 'O God
Lift me up, O’ God
Lift me up O God
Lift me higher to You
Lift me up O God
Lift me in Your grace
Protect me from self will O God
Protect me and keep me
Protect me from self will O God
Protect me and hold me
Peace I seek in You O God
Peace in my heart and soul
Peace I seek in You O God
Peace in You alone
Mercy on my heart O God
Mercy as Your seeking child
Mercy on my heart O God
Mercy, mercy, mercy
Lift me up O God
Lift me higher to You
Lift me up O God
Lift me in Your grace
poem by Lisa Finney
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Inside Is My Mecca
Inside is my mecca.
A peace that is complete!
Released is all conflict.
My mind is at ease.
Inside I find rainbows.
And cloudless blue sky.
I feel Sun rays beaming upon me.
I walk tall with pride,
Without surprise.
Inside is my love hold.
With strength that increases.
I show bliss reflected.
I am blessed to receive it.
Inside me are spirits.
Ancestors who live.
I am this gift given.
And treasured this is!
Inside I keep faith,
As a jewel I caress.
I nourish it to flourish.
And make each step...
Better placed,
Than the best steps I left!
Inside is my mecca.
A peace that is complete!
Released is all conflict.
My mind is at ease.
And as calm as a fresh breeze,
I am blessed to receive to breathe...
Before it leaves.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Found A Way To Stay Protected
I've learned to strip away nonsense,
To get to the core of where my happiness...
Wanted to surface to breathe,
With a breath to freely exist.
And telling it like it is,
I discovered eliminated conflict...
To keep inside to confuse ideals.
And those lessons learned taught to me,
Were real and created my appetite...
To crave the need to keep my peace of mind,
Kept delicious.
And it is.
I've learned to strip away nonsense,
To get to the core of where my happiness...
Wanted to surface to breathe,
With a breath to freely exist.
And it has found a way to stay protected,
From close inspections wishing to monitor...
On a daily basis.
Let me share something with you.
And I am going to keep it basic and quite simple.
I could care less what you think.
Or how you arrived to express an opinion about me,
My activities or the size shoe I wear.
I have not crawled on my knees to appease your assessments.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ridiculous
Ridiculous?
I know.
But somehow that is less disturbing,
Than an abnormal existence...
You insist,
Governs a reality...
Assisted and uplifted by misfits believed.
And until my conscious adjusts to this...
Perception you embrace as one I should face.
I feel much safer remaining in a peace you describe,
As a ridiculous way to live my life!
Free of conflict sweetened with deceit.
And spiced by tasty lies I refuse to eat!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Has Been Earned
What more can be believed,
When only one belief is given.
One can be set free...
When truth is not a perception of life.
But received as an acknowledgement of it.
And that is not a perception...
To be defined by someone's acceptance,
Or rejection of a presence full of light!
One's awakening to the 'self'
Provides all truth defined!
And a peace of mind like that discovered and found,
Is not a debate subjected to confusion or mental conflict.
Awaiting one to be attached and baited.
Scraped over hot coals to be heated.
To fulfill a use...
Until that has been done to deplete.
In a despair that mistreats with deception.
It has been earned!
That peace of mind that comes one finds.
Burning with desire,
That rises one from an entangled mire.
Freed and cleared of such divisions.
Uncompromised by doubt!
One should not invite confusion of any kind.
Not in these times when that is readily available.
Beseech and reach for a higher consciousness,
That pleases.
Share it...
And release someone,
Who feels trapped and shackled...
Attracted to a designed bondage.
Enforced by practiced limitations known!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Impact
It hits!
No one knows,
How to deal with it.
An upsetting impact strikes.
And the suddenness of this,
Finds many unprepared.
It does not fit.
There is no choice,
To accept or resist.
It hits!
Unexpectedly.
And no one knows,
How it was imposed.
An upsetting impact strikes.
And the suddenness of this,
Finds many unprepared.
It does not fit.
There is no choice,
To accept or resist.
This impact scatters a consciousness.
Storming mentalities and doing it quick.
And this no one believes.
All exits are closed.
With eyes opened wide...
Leaving those feeling exposed.
There is no where to flee.
Some receive this as a gift.
But what are they going to do with it?
It hits!
But how can it be described?
When the impact attacks from inside.
It hits.
An evolution stirs a higher consciousness.
An impact comes...
To split and lift!
As if assisted by a divine shift!
Without debates or mandates to pick.
It hits.
And we are in the midst of it!
Beset...
Or bothered not!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Never To Be Experienced
Those afraid to admit their wrongs...
To protect deepening mental insecurities,
Have done to themselves much injustice.
And it is with frustrations...
Accusations with excuses kept,
That a potential for a higher consciousness...
For them is never to be experienced.
But self induced confusion,
Continues to flourish with the feeding of an ego.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Under the Sun
Under the sun is a reason and a run,
Forming clever tactics with the real one.
The moon is intelligent and wise
Like so many lies under the clear blue sky.
Many faces reveal many diverse views,
To learn those with art is a blessing.
The angelic voice calls out on the surface
Of this polite planet, and we emerge to be reunited
With family, with religion and opinion.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Existing As Is and Not Wished
I pray everyday to understand the unknown.
To grasp onto sensibilities.
Shown.
Hoping to uncover a hint of relevance.
With a belief something done,
Is making sense to someone...
Somewhere.
In this mental collective,
Referred to as 'consciousness'.
Or an interpretation of it.
Finding an acceptance.
If not present in my own environment,
To exist as is.
Beyond values given,
To preposterous myths.
With an awakening of a consciousness...
Experienced!
And not wished as a possibility.
Many choose to ignore.
But available to those curious.
And motivated with ambition.
Discovered as relevant.
To be explored.
And not chased away by superstitions,
Employed.
To limit a life one decides,
And has a right to live enjoyed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When, in Actuality...
If one has spent,
A lifetime of feeding upon nonsense...
With an unquestioned defending of it,
Difficult will it be...
To free one from such a mindset,
Of restricted limitations...
That does not afford one,
Eye opening and boundless visions...
Expanding one's consciousness.
Especially,
When there has been an enforcement to label...
Those around one,
As weirdos, misfits and freaks.
The very ones they have been taught to despise,
With a disrespect that is complete.
When,
In actuality...
These are the people who are 'not' in desperate need,
To change their lives.
When,
In actuality...
People like this long ago ostracized,
May have been the ones criticized...
However,
Reality has always been a consciousness for them lived.
And not one attempted to hide.
And today,
Those now found crying with tear duct swollen eyes...
Have too late awakened to realize,
Every known aspect of their lives...
Has been totally based upon manipulation.
And a deception of beliefs...
That has thrived upon platforms of lies and denials.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Not A One Am I Mad At
With a choosing done of sides,
They elected to attack.
And when they discovered,
The hollowness of their reason...
For action,
Time had past them by...
To bestow upon those aware,
A higher consciousness.
One that left them AND their tactics,
Insignificant, irrelevant, pointless...
And shallow.
Although...
Some like myself,
Found their efforts to be beneficial.
And expeditiously used,
To motivate my own success.
Not a one am I mad at.
You feel me?
Not a one!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Platitudinous Pleasures
I am not attached to platitudinous remarks.
As I reflect on particular abilities!
Really I am not.
Not on this journey I have embarked.
Do you honestly believe an ego is attached to this?
That some trite comments would give me a lift?
Do you realize how long this inside me has existed?
If you only knew...
More of a communication could have been pursued.
I have been on the pursuit of understanding...
For quite a few years.
Expressing these thoughts,
Is a gift to me God has chosen to give.
Inside of me still lives...
A craving to see others be and live as free!
I find that they are not.
No...
Especially after a glass or two of beer,
And/or wine...
With a shot of pepperment schnapps!
And perhaps...
A wee bit of blackberry brandy.
To give thoughts like these a start!
You see...
That's when a 'clarity' comes to visit me!
It seems only 'we' who know what this means...
Are connected to express,
A certain 'clearness' found to inspect.
Only to have those explain it as a creative process.
But not as a depthness coming from a heart,
That others feel free to critique...
And rip apart.
But not choosing to see or believe,
A bleeding of sorts is being done...
By those who neither find it a thrill or fun,
To have their guts poured to be ignored.
And evaluated as a tripping ego,
Wishing to be adored!
This is not that kind of discipline...
To have exposed on the surface,
Without 'something' being connected from deep within!
Who in their right minds,
Would spend their entire lives 'trying' to be defined.
If they did not already have definition?
That is not the journey...
Or the mission!
Or the condition of purpose meant.
Like the sipping of schnapps that are peppermint.
With a twist of lemon and maybe lime to add scent.
And losing an effectiveness earlier sent.
Now...
If that was known,
None of this would be necessary!
Or revealed as a gift...
Given to achieve 'something' believed.
Would it?
No need to respond.
I can handle this!
Could it be...
Just for useless platitudinous pleasures to receive?
And an overglorified ambition,
To mentally tease readers?
I think not!
Anyone who can make some kind of mind attachment...
To this rambling inebriated nonsense,
In which I am in no condition to repeat...
Is welcomed to the last of my brandy.
Sharing is one of my greatest talents.
And for that,
I seek no applause!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Knowing My Consciousness Is Being Address
What has been the affect of my blessings?
I suppose it is the peace of mind I find.
And being inquisitive about life,
Has never been treated by me as a commodity
I awaken fascinated.
I imagine myself floating through space,
With an awareness of no boundaries.
Or limitations of any kind taken place.
And when I finally come down to Earth...
I'm reminded how blind and insensitive,
The feeding of greed...
Has left the majority of people to believe,
The Universe is not an 'entity' that knows and breathes...
Every detail of their existence.
The tremendousness of this Supreme Majesticness,
Has to know!
What has been the affect of my blessings?
Knowing my consciousness is being address,
By a power too great for me to envision.
But from 'IT' I get a sense of approval.
And from 'IT' I get a motivation that keeps me devoted.
And from 'IT' I get immediate feedback....
From millions of years,
Servicing wisdoms far greater than my own limitation.
That has been the affect,
Of acknowledging I've been blessed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Rotated
The one chasing
Like a captor after prey...
Is only in it for the hunt,
Like one on the prowl...
Seeking to exhaust a fresh stunt,
Used to amuse
And display in play.
Although obvious and tired,
Are tactics employed...
No one can tell the one hunting,
Actions rotated are actions that annoy.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lost As A Treasured Experience
If it was not meant to be taken seriously,
None of it would have been given to be taken
With a purpose to receive,
And comprehend its meaning.
Instead of comprehending the meaning of it,
It has been left to sit
As of its existence is there to provide,
One a uselessness.
And one who has decided,
That all there is to it was to use
Until the nourishment from it was exhausted.
Then an exhaustion from taking it for granted
Leaves.
If
It was not meant to be taken seriously,
What is the purpose for any of it to exist.
Just to please the existing of the unimportance,
To prioritize an increasing toleration of nonsense.
And
If nonsense continues to increase,
The purpose of witnessing any of this
Diminishes in value to be lost as a treasured experience.
Never to have been found worthy of its priceless blessing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Wishing long live the butterflys
Wishing you were free
Wishing going wherever you see
Wishing life isnt plain
Wishing you have no pain
Wishing you can breath
Wishing you cant leave
Wishing you can stay
Wishing you can fly
Wishing you have the whole day
Wishing to watch the clouds pass by
Wishing you were a butterfly
Iong live that butterfly
poem by Fading Heart
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Silence Becomes the Tragedy
No word spoken,
Can change to affect...
All that which has been injected!
Although some degree of change is there...
A fear of it has been implanted,
To object to and denounce...
As something suspect to slant and trounce.
To rid and bounce away.
Crimes and criminals,
With deceptions to project...
Have come to an end,
Of misdeeds that were hopefully kept fed
To uphold and defend!
And no word spoken,
Can replenish those of lost minds.
There is no time that is left,
To restore the confidence,
Of those suffering heartbreak...
And missing those loved ones put to death!
Silence becomes the tragedy!
As those who now 'see'...
Attempt to take deep breaths!
Silence becomes the tragedy.
And yet...
Sleepless are the nights,
Stealing those away from peace.
Sleepless are the nights,
Coming to stir a consciousness...
And arriving to leave,
A grieving done!
With a prolonged test,
To maintain a sanity.
Silence becomes the tragedy...
Never again to experience,
The fading of complete rest!
Silence becomes the tragedy...
Left for one to battle alone inside,
Uncontested mentally!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Decoys
You'll see over there,
Decoys.
But none to keep.
Or use as toys.
Realize they are bait to feed.
And a process to minimize,
Those who try...
To annoy with alibis.
We apply them to attract,
Those easy to tease.
And seeking a life of greed,
To please and disregard others in need.
Decoys,
Are easy to create and rid.
Decoys,
Used to fool...
And,
Derail those offtrack people.
We need decoys,
To trick...
Those who abuse.
Decoys,
Employed to trap.
Decoys,
Those greedy already fat.
Decoys,
To sidetrack those rat packers...
Who enjoy holding others back.
Decoys,
Employed to trap.
Decoys,
Those greedy already fat.
Decoys,
To sidetrack those rat packers...
Who enjoy holding others back.
Those decoys.
To school those up and coming...
Looking for money to get,
Without sweat to create...
A mess for the rest.
You'll see over there,
Decoys.
But none to keep.
Or use as toys.
We apply them to attract,
Those easy to tease.
And decoys,
Employed to trap.
Decoys,
Those greedy already fat.
Decoys,
To sidetrack those rat packers...
Who enjoy holding others back.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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