The Evidence Is Obvious
It's time to leave them!
Those that can not be lead.
Those attached to barbaric beliefs...
And sealed to the hip.
Following behind blindly,
The madness of dead weight heads.
Who mock intelligence,
To induce fear, agony and dread!
They say, 'Nothing is near us.
We are kings/queens of the universe! '
But their restrictions limited by inflictions...
Can not see,
We have been monitored constantly!
'It' is already here!
That powerful force...
We are told does not appear.
With abilities beyond,
What we hold dear!
It's time to leave them!
Those that can not be lead.
Those attached to barbaric beliefs...
And sealed to the hip.
Following behind blindly,
The madness of dead weight heads.
Who mock intelligence,
To induce fear, agony and dread!
The evidence is obvious,
As we are told to ignore truth...
And concentrate on terrorists!
With the assistance of strategists,
Doing their best...
To manipulate what we see and digest!
Proving there is no death!
Perhaps a transference of indifference...
We shed!
To lift us to other dimensions instead!
People are seeing 'things'!
That can not be describe as white,
With blond hair!
Green or blue blood shot eyes!
Goodbye reality!
There are just too many holes...
In the ability to maintain,
A stability going down the drain!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Which Sickness Is Preferred
If it helps to heal,
Why would sugar be added...
To the naturalness of anything tasted,
Concealing its true identity?
When eventually a curiosity will seek truth.
With a creating of havoc,
That could have been avoided.
Are factors attached to control issues,
THAT addicting...
To keep a people seeking chaos,
As a means that keeps them with beliefs...
A power over others is theirs to have eternally?
Is a sickness more dangerous than any weapon used.
How thick are the heads of those mindless?
And to what degree are their beliefs twisted?
And...
What is it on 'this' Earth,
Is perceived by anyone is theirs forever to keep?
Devastation, annihilation, with nonexistence?
To leave behind no human evidence?
Which sickness is preferred,
To implement by these mentally diseased creatures?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Son Of Man
Rise up Son of Man
New York cities' Son of Sam
With a gun in hand
He reaps the women of our land
Blood and family does his death depravity
Keep out of his way
Live to lie another day
He picked up a .44 calibur gun
To shoot her down, down
He was told to kill
Dogs and Demons gave him will
Fear and roaming nights
Some remember hating life
Nobody wants him
He just stares at the world
Planning his vengance
That he will soon unfurl
Now the time is here
For Son of Sam to spread fear
Father holy ghost, wicked son who kills the most
Nobody wants him
They just turn their heads
Nobody helps him
Now he has his revenge
Down, down, down...
Gunshots full of lead
Fills his victims full of dread
Running as fast as they can
Son of Sam killed again!
Down, down, down...
Down, down, down...
song performed by by Marilyn Manson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Realization
Realization.
There is 'something' honest,
And truthful about its presentation.
Somehow...
All enclosures are sealed.
Exposed exits do not exists.
Escapes of all kinds are gone.
Devalued are right or wrong conceptions.
Mysteries are lifted.
Plans to use remnants of deceptions,
Have diminished in mental investments.
A reduced satisfaction to induce 'myths'...
Produce tears for some.
There is no where to run.
Or places to hide backbiting divisions.
Backstabbing wishes are missing.
Reasons for existing have many flustered.
Rehearsing bitterness,
Has lost its tit-for-tat power.
Realization has developed,
Both in and outside incisions...
To heighten consciousness.
Racists excuses have lost their use.
Relief for those grieving restricted comforts,
To return...
Exposes pretensions.
Traditions inflicting a separateness fades.
Blemishes and insecurities are bared.
We are all in the presence of realization.
Giving it our undivided attention!
Nappy, Straight, corn-rowed or dread heads...
With blond, brown or shades of eyes witnessing,
Find themselves up and beyond such pettiness!
A magnitude of 'supreme' intelligence embraces.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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They Are Here!
They are here!
Those you were once told
You should fear.
Those of different atmospheres.
And climates from beyond.
Those of intelligence,
We can not fathom.
They have come...
And some will be alarmed!
They are here.
Whether or not,
Your conscious is clear.
Whether or not you accept them at all.
They are not barbaric like us.
They are not with conflict to inflict...
To commit to that and become enthralled.
They are here...
In preparation.
And to everyone,
They soon will appear!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Down at the Walmart Parking Lot!
You do not hold what I hold dear,
And when I told you what I fear,
You laughed and said... 'That's mighty strange! ...
Just have a beer... This world won't change...
What will we care? ... once dead and gone?
You know it's all just overblown...
Global warming and world war three...
What worries you don't worry me! '
Still glad I put this in your ear...
We do not hold the same things dear!
What's dear to me is not to you...
Your simple truth is hardly true,
Your blurry lines of church and state,
Your holy/patriotic hate.
Your righteous war... your pius sword...
Joy of dear hunting for the lord.
See, I don't want what I ain't got,
Don't miss winter when it's too hot!
Won't cry for August when it's cold!
Young's OK but I don't dread old!
Seen UN-happy in old and young...
More hot!
More rich!
More thin!
More hung!
Don't want a real close parking spot,
Down at the Walmart parking lot!
Things that you find so fantastic,
Mass-produced and mostly plastic,
Such things carry no real weight here...
I
do
not
hold
what
you
hold
dear!
From the new (coming-soon) book... Storm Child.
From the new (coming-soon) book... Storm Child.
www.LouisianaBoy.com
poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
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We Have No Similar Interests
You have spent your time attacking my beliefs.
But it is your beliefs that now attack you.
Not once did I ever say,
You should do things my way.
However...
Your way,
Done...
Lead to your undoing.
You have spent your time attacking my beliefs.
But it is your beliefs that now attack you.
You had fast backing from a society.
Many professed as normal.
The one that sets standards...
With values to achieve.
You also had 'close' friends,
You spent time with.
I lived in my own 'world'.
And your laughter persisted.
Until it recently has drifted,
Away.
You have spent your time attacking my beliefs.
But it is your beliefs that attack now you.
Not once did I ever say,
You should do things my way.
However...
Your way,
Done...
Lead to your undoing.
Why am I now,
Getting your unanswered calls?
We have no similar interests.
None that bestows a wish,
To speak to you.
And all that I have gone through...
I just let my telephone ring.
Often to go unnoticed.
Any hellos I wish to here...
Are personal and exchanged,
When I am near...
From ear to ear.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Blinded Into A Stale Checkmate
Gamed!
Issues they keep,
Are transparently weak.
And superimposed,
With superficiality to give them weight.
So light of mind and purpose.
They would like to think of themselves,
Living in the land of opportunity...
As kings and queens.
But they are attached like pawns.
Rooked and played to remain dazed!
Gamed!
Obvious as if dressed mannequins,
Placed in store front windows to tease passersby.
Only attracting those curious,
Who remark how life-like they appear.
'If only they had light in their eyes.
They could come close to looking 'real'.'
Lame,
Gamed.
And so predictable.
Obvious,
As if dressed mannequins.
And superimposed,
With superficiality to give them weight.
'If only they had light in their eyes.
They could come close to looking 'real'.'
Gamed!
They would like to think of themselves,
Living in the land of opportunity...
As kings and queens.
But they are attached like pawns.
Rooked and played to remain dazed!
To be teased by the sleazers.
Who know how to keep them...
Transparently weak.
And irrelevant.
Easily positioned to trick!
Gamed!
And blinded into a stale checkmate,
Wherever it is they may go!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Sing Last / Not For Tears
We've been told lies.
We've been herded around
Taken for rides, told that this is the one
We've learned all the steps and where do they lead
Right back to zero or not far I believe
Making history as we open our eyes
And no one's quite sure so we... We improvise
And wherever it leads us is wherever we'll go
I'd dance forever if they'd let me, you know
Wearing our hair up in anger we cry
The revolutions dead it went out in style
The children are learning much faster than we
Soon they'll be older but then again, so will we
Time has come for each of us to decide
To follow blindly or to step out of line
The party is over it has been for years
Let's use the water to wash up, not for tears
Seems such a pity
It seemed we had the same dream
And thinking of things past
You sang first I sang last
You sang first I sang last
You sang first I sang last
song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Birth Of A Stream
Exhausted
Cannot add to its weight
Allows the golden rays
Help shed its weight
Gathers courage at its base
Embraces and moves in embrace
Imbibing the qualities of yore
Hopping as a Dear in the Ashram
Free from fear
In joyous mood
Blindly makes a flush
That youthful vigour
Pristine and majestic in content.
poem by Sanjay Mehta
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Of the Soporiferous Kind
And those who love to war have nothing more,
But troubled endings.
With strategies exposing a host of insecurities.
To keep the heat of fear in place.
To ensure suspicions are never erased.
And those who digest thoughts of terrorists...
Knocking down their doors,
To split their throats and wrists.
Choke in horror from nightmares dreamed.
As they look over shoulders prepared to scream.
And those who can not fall to sleep in peace...
Are kept haunted by visions from themselves released.
With purchased weapons hidden under beds.
Believing everything heard and to them said.
As they witness neighbors going out of their heads.
While relatives and close others...
Wish them dead!
'How cryptic! '
Would you prefer it to be less realistic?
Or sweetened with a narcotic?
Either way...
It can be numbed up for you.
'Good.
I'm of the soporiferous kind.
Induce me that way.
Gently! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Michael Jackson Is Innocent
Who are you to make a judgment call,
when you didn’t know Michael Jackson at all.
Gossip spreads in people’s heads,
making people believe things of dread.
Why not leave it alone and work on yourself,
concentrate on building people up.
Now, if we have all the answers to everything people do,
we wouldn’t need to be here and think things through.
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Horse Latitudes
When the still sea conspires an armor
And her sullen and aborted
Currents breed tiny monsters
True sailing is dead
Awkward instant
And the first animal is jettisoned
Legs furiously pumping
Their stiff green gallop
And heads bob up
Poise
Delicate
Pause
Consent
In mute nostril agony
Carefully refined
And sealed over
song performed by by Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Iron Man
Has he lost his mind?
Can he see or is he blind?
Can he walk at all,
Or if he moves will he fall?
Is he alive or dead?
Has he thoughts within his head?
Well just pass him there
Why should we even care?
He was turned to steel
In the great magnetic field
Where he traveled time
For the future of mankind
Nobody wants him
He just stares at the world
Planning his vengeance
That he will soon unfold
Now the time is here
For iron man to spread fear
Vengeance from the grave
Kills the people he once saved
Nobody wants him
They just turn their heads
Nobody helps him
Now he has his revenge
Heavy boots of lead
Fills his victims full of dread
Running as fast as they can
Iron man lives again!
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beliefs of the doubtful existent
Caesar has been dead; so has been Brutus.
Gandhi has been dead; so has been Hitler.
Where did their souls, if any, go out?
Where had those souls come from before?
Beliefs of heaven and hell are there,
Neither proved, nor disproved as yet.
As such, suchlike beliefs carry weight.
27.08.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Existing to Feed the Greed of Thieves
If the eyes of today,
Aren't opened as wide...
As the hole one feels in saddened hearts,
Or emptying pockets
Stripped
Of everything other than one's balled fists.
Those unaware...
And can not feel this,
Are either hopelessly smug.
Or drugged on crack!
People like these are addicted to being deceived.
And do not need to become awakened from their beliefs.
Leave them to be left...
Experiencing a slow painful death enjoyed!
Only a twisted mind will become annoyed,
If attempts are tried!
They are in denial!
They have accepted their lives have been lived well.
And all this time they are doing just fine!
With minds existing...
To feed the greed of thieves.
Choosing to perceive them,
As the ones who have been 'chosen'...
To lead them to abundance and victory!
And absolutely nothing anyone says,
Will close that hole in their hearts.
Or mend that space in their heads!
They are already...
Among the walking dead!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Much More Work to Do
Why are those chickens running around,
And their heads have been cut off?
'They've been conditioned that they are not chickens.
They've been programmed to believe they are constituents.
And that's the name they prefer.
It has stuck with them!
Like feathers attached to birds.'
You are what you believe, you know?
'I know!
And those heads?
They've never used them anyway.
So the running around,
With their heads cut off the way they do?
They've been told only 'chickens' do that!
And as luck would have it...
They can't see themselves that way!
No heads?
No eyes!
What about all those pots you've got?
'Well...
We've been promising to get one in each pot!
And that's the dilemma.
Like I said...
They can't 'see' themselves as chickens.
Nor do they believe,
We can get one in each pot!
So they are running around...
As if a lottery to be played,
Will be stopped.
And...
I don't have to tell you,
There's a lot of convincing.
With much more work to do.
None of this was planned too well.'
Or at all!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To save manpower
Life is ugly; we don’t know why.
Confusion shrouds; fear engulfs.
Fear for the Unknown unfolds.
Beliefs and dogmas catch us.
Beliefs are imposed on our fears.
Beliefs are only an escape route.
It is mere a pain killer.
Religion becoming ritual,
We waste time pursuing religion.
Religion shed, manpower is saved.
12.01.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Letter
Your letter arrived today.
I read through it with complete dismay.
For now I know that we'll never be together at the end of the day.
The door is shut all hope is gone.
I must find a different way to carry on.
Your letter sealed what I feared many years.
You do not hold me dear,
through my heart a poisned spear.
Now alls inside is spite and fear.
A cold patch of icy disdain.
Where once upon a time supreme amounts of love had lain.
So now it's time we part and take our own ways.
To save our lives to fight another day.
Your letter cut with the deepest scorn,
but from this treachery a new life is born.
Take heed my love a feel the day.
The futures ahead and for what we fare we must not dread.
Your letter sealed all that we had,
now I put this all to bed
poem by Michael McParland
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Going, Going, Gone
Going, going, gone!
The pulchritude of those who believe,
They were born to lead.
And have been blessed...
With superior intelligence.
Going, going, gone...
Is that mindset!
Going, going, gone!
Stereotyping others,
With the depiction of them being lazy,
Shiftless and ignorant.
This pendulum has already swung.
Reality for many has clearly begun.
Going, going, gone!
Thoughtlessness.
Too much of it existing has not been addressed.
Out of necessity a 'thoughtfulness' to protect the shores.
There seems to be an acknowledgement today...
Of what is not 'mine' exclusively,
But also 'ours' and also 'yours'.
Going, going, gone!
Ethnic jokes and the fools who tell them.
There is nothing funny about watching 'certain' people,
Making fun of the plight of others...
As their druthers has humanity,
Sitting at the brink of disaster.
Because they believe they have been the chosen ones.
There is nothing laughable in the observation,
As to what 'these' people have done!
And going, going, gone...
Are their beliefs with philosophies.
And their blatant madness.
Perhaps they are wizards of delusion.
However...
They have not proven they have been,
Masters of Ecology nor will ever be!
That's for sure.
With an arrogance to destroy 'my' planet?
I don't think so!
Some folks like that will just have to go.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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