The One Who Feels Abandoned
If I have failed in any way,
To express my lack of support...
In the benefit to cater to your delusions.
I hope one day you will forgive me!
Since my appetite for sweets and whims,
Has been steadily diminished.
And I now seek substance,
Over snacks I've discovered do not nourish.
And I am needing more today than ever,
To maintain a regimen that is disciplined.
With a need to be encouraged.
And I am the one who feels abandoned.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I'd Like My Pockets To Be As Full
My days and nights,
And appetite to live my life right...
Is a quest sometimes,
That leaves me unrested.
I wish to share and seek happiness.
Not to reminisce those obstacles I've dismissed.
So many today seem dismayed.
Stuck in ruts they replay everyday.
And offering nothing but despair to express.
I understand those difficulties...
Especially the ones that come to test!
But I've discovered it was best for me,
To see my cup half filled.
I've discovered it was best for me,
Not to dramatize my ills.
Or over burden others with them,
In an overkill.
Today we all can say,
We've made mistakes and had heartbreaks.
Today we all can come to agree...
We are disappointed with 'something'
Connected to the economy!
I'd like my pockets to be as full,
As that cup I imagine filled with gold.
And I pull it.
Glad to drag it behind me!
My days and nights,
And appetite to live my life right...
Is a quest sometimes,
That leaves me unrested.
I wish to share and seek happiness.
Not to reminisce those obstacles I've dismissed.
Or bore anyone with the repetition of it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Feed Me Love
Feed me love!
That's it.
All of those other promises,
To nourish my diet...
Has not left my appetite encouraged,
One bit!
Feed me some love as a main course.
Do not tease me with it as if it is dessert!
Whatever you say it will do for me,
I want that fed to me as an entrée first.
Feed me with it to quench my thirst.
Do not tease the love I hunger and deserve.
Feed me love!
That's it.
All of those other promises,
To nourish my diet...
Has not left my appetite encouraged,
One bit!
Feed me love,
And fill me up with it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Just Haven't Discovered That Yet
'Mommie?
What is substance and quality?
We've been given an assigment,
To describe what it is in an essay.'
Substance is something one wishes to have,
When a missing of a quality has been overpriced.
'I see.
So...
In other words,
You're telling me...
You have no clue either.'
What did your father say about it?
'He said,
Substance is something sacrificed...
When the quality of it has been diminished,
To the getting of it only lasting for two minutes.'
Go tell your father,
He need not worry about the quality of the substance,
Any longer.
'Why is it,
When I ask you two a question...
The answers have nothing to do,
With my assignment.'
They do.
And they will.
You just haven't discovered that yet.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Valley Of The Ghouls
Energized with a sacrifice,
To remain devoted to purpose...
And a disciplined life.
Is a lonely proposition...
For those walking on a path,
That breaks away from traditions.
And pre-conditions as if accepted missions.
Achieving with dignity and a motivation to fulfill...
At times can promote discouragement.
And attention from those mean spirited...
Out to kill goodwill!
And this they will...
As if skilled.
It is difficult to maintain in the valley of the ghouls.
Those who rush to confirm the dead through obituaries.
Those who nourish upon others' despair.
Those who delight in ruling over their blight!
As if this ignites their wicked moods with added fuel.
It is difficult to maintain in the valley of the ghouls.
Those rushing from repast to repast...
To sip and dine to leave.
These are the people holding their breaths...
With a more interest in death,
Than to living lives invested...
In a happiness to manifest.
It is difficult,
To maintain...
In the valley of the ghouls.
When people express,
How good someone looks...
Dressed!
And appearing...
To be at peace in a restful death!
It is difficult,
To maintain...
In the valley of the ghouls.
When people express,
How good someone looks...
Dressed!
And appearing...
To be at peace in a restful death.
Oh yes...
It is difficult,
To maintain...
In the valley of the ghouls.
When people express,
How good someone looks...
Dressed!
And appearing...
To be at peace in a restful death.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Friends
they are my friends because
i am one with the money
and they borrow
and not pay and borrow again and i let them
and they do not pay
and they come
to eat in my house
for free dinners and some snacks
and tell me stories
about their sorrows and problems and their
broken ambitions, and i am left with no choice but to listen
and stop for the meantime
doing the things i want to do, and they call
needing more
and asking more and pouring out and i assure them
i am here
and i am here to listen and cater and always
be their friend
but soon, these, all these will be over
i am tired
being abused by these friends
i guess, i must stop being stupid
i have decided at the end
to lose them and junk them
today, i befriended myself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Trapped and Needing Air
Slow to wake up!
Too slow,
To awaken to what has been real.
Don't expect me to freeze in place.
Awaiting for you to embrace life,
As it is!
It is to be lived.
Not turned into a quiz...
You just can't get and figure out.
And your pouting is not admired.
It's like a flat tire needing air!
You are just not there!
Slow to wake up!
No one's got time on hold.
To benefit them...
And/or their whims.
When for them time will begin again.
Show or no show folks...
Who poke along,
And make joke of it.
Putting off 'the now'
To live a yesterday today...
Should be left on steps where they sit!
Or wave to them through a window!
Don't stop to visit.
They seek someone to twist into a fit!
Many know such folks,
Who complain about their sorrows.
And they will drain someone's patience.
To stall tomorrow's anticipated taste.
And squeeze the sweet,
To share their bitterness...
With anyone they meet.
It is to be lived.
This life!
Not turned into a quiz...
You just can't get or figure out,
The wrong from right!
And your pouting is not admired.
It's like a flat tire needing air!
You are just not there...
With determination focused.
But despair you love to wear.
Trapped and getting ragged...
Like a tire needing air.
Addicted like an addict,
And trapped...
Needing air!
Trapped and getting ragged...
Like a tire needing air.
Addicted like an addict,
That's trapped and needing air!
Caged like a rabbit in fear and scared.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Don't Stop Me, Please
I had to be here to express relief!
Don't stop me...
Please.
I had pent up emotions needing release!
Don't stop me...
Please.
I once had shied away from my own mistakes.
I once denied I even made them.
But I awakened with a need to admit...
My perfectness,
Was not a perfect fit!
I had to be here to express relief!
Don't stop me...
Please.
I had pent up emotions needing release!
Don't stop me...
Please.
When I was wrong I couldn't handle it!
I would run to hide afraid like a kid.
I have grown to my own benefit.
And...
Ready to express my own childishness!
So don't stop me,
Please!
I had to be here to express relief!
Don't stop me...
Please.
I have emotions needing to be release!
Don't stop me...
Please.
When I was wrong I couldn't handle it!
I would run to hide afraid like a kid.
Now I see how that was quite childish.
I am here to ask for your forgiveness.
So don't stop me,
Please!
I am to ask for your forgiveness.
So don't stop me,
Please!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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With a Hopeful Wish They Remain Focused
So many are born and blessed with unique gifts.
And those blessed to play hide and seek...
Should not be deprived of imposing this talent.
Especially upon those,
Who express to them such sincere gratitude.
And praying they stay encouraged,
In such unmistakable absence.
With a support given,
To whatever it is they do in pursuit.
With a hopeful wish they remain focused.
And determined to keep seeking,
The hiding that is sought!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Everything The Others Ate Had Been Great
When will I ever write 'something' you like?
Probably never.
Since you seek to have your appetite pleased...
And I will never cater to those who player hate.
'Who said I player hated? '
You had no problem eating,
Everything I prepared and dished upon your plate.
Until someone mentioned that I was the cook.
And everything the others ate had been great.
Up until 'then' you munched and grinned.
And then when my name was mentioned...
You proceeded to whip out,
A pad and pen!
'Who said I player hated?
I just happened to have lost my appetite.
It had nothing to do with you beaming,
Or the fact you appeared to block out my light! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We Just Ask For Your Support
The economy is strong!
However...
We are in need of a least two trillion dollars,
To avoid any delusions we might encounter...
In the event the future may disagree,
With our current assessment.
And we will be glad to provide any documentation,
To support our findings.
Or lack there of!
We just ask for your support,
In the event we should run out of money...
Prior to the selling of the usual accustomed BS!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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THAT, I Do Know
You see this?
I've been doing it,
Most of my life.
Writing.
I began in the '50's
The nineteen fifties.
With little or no encouragement,
At all that I could see.
OH...
My mom use to buy my sister
And I writing pads and finger painting sets
to keep me from writing on the walls.
And...
I guess a few spankings supplied an incentive!
Now that I remember certain events.
It was my sister Mimmie,
Who discovered I could write poetry.
And she didn't believe me.
People 'assume' I was nourished,
And encouraged by my parents.
I don't think they knew what I did,
To be honest.
I was born 'this creative being'.
With demands I made.
No one 'gave' me a thing,
But a headache.
With a parade of negative comments,
About my exposed interests.
They assigned to being a little effeminate.
But I played ball and stuff like that.
I wasn't hung up on gender!
That is more expressed today,
Than in those days I grew up.
So...
I am quite amazed today,
Especially...
That someone would ask me 'how'
I do 'this' and what they need to know...
To do 'that'?
'Gee, I don't know what to say.
Or how to say anything at all about it.
Uh...you...uh...well? ...I...uh...Gee.'
Sometimes I'm left speechless.
I just know...
If it is something done that is loved,
It will discover a way to express itself.
THAT,
Is what I have discovered over many years,
Of unrelentless devotion.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Food Anymey
Snacks is
Not food...
But...
you...
Eat food
Some of snacks...
Helthy good...
Take food
At snacks leval
Avoid snacks
With any time...
Snacks is your
Anymey of food...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Once From Their Sight 'Your' Treasures Leave
As long as someone 'assumes' there is a benefit,
You will be shown some aspect of respect.
By those who prioritize the feeding of their needs.
And you might be left to believe,
Any attention you receive from them...
Is a result of your radiant personality.
There is nothing wrong with 'your' perception.
If from them you now get a wished reception.
In an atmosphere of shared embellishments.
We all keep some delusions handy and accessible.
However,
This is generally the 'observed' scenerio:
If you have nothing others can value,
Or 'things' available that impress...
On sight and can be used.
To address 'their' hangups and insecurities?
No one is brave enough to face seriously.
You will not maintain their attention!
Listen...
Maybe with a mention of disgust on their lips.
That's just how it is when people are first taught,
To worship...
And 'prey'
On others with a solicitation that leeches,
In support of their greed!
This is felt as you will witness this.
Especially once from their sight,
'Your' treasures leave!
That's just how it is when people are first taught,
To worship...
And 'prey'
On others with a solicitation that leeches,
In support of their greed!
That's just how it is...
In the land of 'opportunity'.
Where the breeding of this has yet to cease.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Grew To Believe
I did not awaken with dreams to write.
Or decide I was creative.
I awakened each day trying to fight it,
This appetite I had.
Especially when I thought that I had,
Something I should not want to have.
Few people I knew were encouraged to express,
An acceptance of their gifts.
I grew up in the projects.
And those who were 'different' were made to feel it.
Few people I knew were encouraged to express,
A happiness with talents they possessed.
With a gladness from others...
Who did not address an envy with a jealousness.
But a showing of a knowing that I knew,
Grew...
Inside of me.
Yes,
A showing of a knowing that I knew...
Grew!
A showing of a knowing that I knew,
Grew...
Inside of me.
Yes,
A showing of a knowing that I knew...
Grew,
To believe.
I did not awaken with dreams to write.
Or decide I was creative.
I awakened each day trying to fight it,
This appetite I had.
But...
A showing of a knowing that I knew,
Grew...
Inside of me.
Yes,
A showing of a knowing that I knew...
Grew,
To believe.
A showing of a knowing that I knew,
Grew...
Inside of me.
A showing of a knowing that I knew...
Grew,
To believe.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ostracized and Shunned
There are some still clinging onto delusions sent.
To prevent a reality for them is meant.
They should have been told a long time ago...
The truth of their existence,
Relied on myths and their indoctrinations...
To keep them afloat upon a sinking boat.
They've been told the blazing flames,
Have been ignited to express victory.
So many of them have come dressed in their best...
To express their loyalty.
And those ostracized and shunned look on.
Grateful they had been despised!
And not accepted like the others...
Suffering to maintain,
The fading of their 'normal' lives!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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So Difficult It Becomes Not To Diminsh Life
A mind that compares but is not there,
To evaluate or self examine...
Can not be held accountable,
For a thought process...
Those conscious expect and take for granted.
And those who are conscious,
Have discovered too few prepared...
With an awareness that has awakened,
To appreciate the benefit and value...
Of that which they have as a gift to nourish,
The broadening concept of comprehension.
A mind that compares but is not there,
To evaluate or self examine...
Can not be held accountable,
For a thought process...
Those conscious expect and take for granted.
With the shining of bling and other things,
Bringing into the mix the teasing of temptation...
So difficult it becomes not to diminsh life,
As an opportunity to feed our selfish whims.
With a dismissing of others,
Who do not join in with the fleecing...
Of a weakened and dieing golden lamb.
'It is not a dead horse.
No need to beat it.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In the Raising of Their Own Children
Those that do not play an active role,
In the raising of their own children...
But appear from nowhere,
To claim bragging rights.
When discovered 'their' child...
Stands under a spotlight.
Should not be offended when sent,
A 'Thank You' card by a son or daughter.
Someone has shown them how to express,
An appreciation for being abandoned.
And given an opportunity to feel blessed.
Some children have a right to express that,
As an option.
Not an expectation.
And some parents should not be allowed,
To proclaim that at all.
Especially when the doing of it isn't done.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Conversations Can Be Quite Delicious!
More should experience,
Having their thoughts brought out...
To enjoy the freshness of open air.
Instead of keeping them confined,
Within minds,
To have them go unshared.
Exchanging ideas and perceptions of life,
Can increase one's excitement.
With a revelation of something...
That might entice and invite one's knowledge.
And discovered as another's...
Appetite needing more spice that's liked!
Conversations can be quite delicious!
More should experience,
Having their thoughts brought out...
To enjoy the freshness of open air.
Instead of keeping them confined,
Within minds,
To have them go unshared.
Conversations can be quite delicious!
Exchanging ideas and perceptions of life,
Can increase one's excitement.
With a revelation of something...
That might entice and invite one's knowledge.
And discovered as another's...
Appetite needing more spice that's liked!
Conversations...
Can be quite,
Delicious!
Especially those that are right,
With a tasty bite that is invited to linger.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Habits that Become Addicting
The only mystique there is to consume,
And believe...
Is that which has a more concentrated,
Feasibility to release from periods of testing.
Keeping a feeding of this process is needed.
And if leaks of deceit should begin to be 'peeped'...
More opportunities are created,
To tease with more advantageous temptations.
And habits that become addicting like a good wage,
Are encouraged to nourish satisfactions.
Until the expense of those habits,
Begin to diminish the cost of protecting delusions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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From What Is It Are They Freed?
Is a vacating of one's responsibility,
Okay just to label as immature?
Who endures the consequences?
And is it cost effective,
To agree with those who have made no investment...
Yet lack both tact and discipline,
Encouraged as they nourish irresponsible children?
When then grow to believe...
They are entitled to implement their misdeeds.
To declare themselves free?
And...
From what is it they are freed?
That does not come out of thin and lint dusting pockets.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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