The Physicality Of Things
Living to identify and adjust,
To the physicality of things...
Loses one an opportunity to gain any wisdom,
From the spiritual side of life.
One into 'things' and the implied importance,
This emptiness brings...
Satisfies a perception,
That what one has equates one's worth.
Sad is the mind stuck on Earth like that.
Unconscious of all the traps that attract.
And imprisoned,
By a lack of time...
To adventure all that Mother Nature offers.
And,
It is an unfortunate observation to witness this...
But,
Those impressed by appearances and 'bling'...
Would have to be struck by lightening,
To appreciate the benefits the gift of life has to offer.
There are very few people,
Not limited in their minds...
Who can honestly say today,
They have no biases of any kind.
Very, very few can say that,
And keep an eye contact going on.
People are not yet that honest with themselves.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sadness Traps The Unfortunate
Sadness traps the unfortunate.
Those who will never be honest with themselves.
And live for things to comfort them.
To fulfill empty lives committed to hiding.
These are the ones who compare themselves to others.
These are the ones who feel significant,
If they can impress.
If their conversations express,
An interest that is common with pretensions addressed.
Sadness traps the unfortunate.
Those who will never be honest with themselves.
And live for things to comfort them.
To fulfill empty lives committed to hiding.
And those glass ceilings crack.
Precious plastic cards lose appeal.
Credit ratings plummet.
And those living leased lives are revealed.
Sadness,
Traps...
The unfortunate.
And looking back floods the tears,
From those who could not show compassion.
Now it is something that seems to flow.
But not from those doors padlocked and foreclosed.
Sadness,
Traps...
The unfortunate,
In minds where fear is found.
With compassion for others.
But no one is around to notice or care.
Since a cold indifferentness had always been there.
From those who exposed,
Their wishes just to feed their greed.
And egos.
Sadness traps the unfortunate.
Those who will never be honest with themselves.
And live for things to comfort them.
To fulfill empty lives committed to hiding,
Lieing and deceit.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Under Duress
It is getting increasingly obvious...
The difference between,
Those who are comfortable in their skins.
And those trying to fit in,
To get paid some attention.
Those attached to life,
From a perception of limitation...
Are made easy to believe,
A presentation that attracts...
The physicality of things,
Is how life should be lived.
And those faith based beings,
Seem to be spiritually encouraged.
They are the ones motivated first,
By an inspiration to create...
From a place innovation is born.
To allow others to plagiarize to live easier lives.
It is getting increasingly obvious...
The difference between,
Those who are comfortable in their skins.
And those trying to fit in,
To get paid some attention.
They become frustrated by another's success.
They believe they are entitled to be self centered,
With an expression of selfishness.
They perceive those homeless and hungry,
As the ones unlucky who became suppressed.
But the ones wishing to impress,
Are the ones self destructing...
From a lack of consciousness they do not possess.
Those attached to life,
From a perception of limitation...
Are made easy to believe,
A presentation that attracts...
The physicality of things,
Is a quality of life to live as addressed.
And if it is?
Why are people like this,
So unhappy...
With themselves?
And if it is the kind of life to live,
Why are people living lives like this,
Finding more and more...
Their beliefs being dismissed?
And they find themselves,
Living under duress.
Which is under the rest,
Of those historically oppressed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christmas At Its Best
To know Christmas at its best, you must come to Christ and rest,
Far from that weary holiday time, into that Light, which is sublime,
For a real meaning to this season, one with a true spiritual reason,
Beyond the songs this world sings, to The Lord of Eternal Things.
Away from all that holiday rush, God brings upon the soul a hush,
Quieting both the heart and mind, to find that gift of another kind,
This really is that special gift, not gained by one’s shopping thrift,
The Gift provided by God’s Grace, one in which you gain by faith.
Men only need to rest and pause, ignoring trees and Santa Claus,
Looking for the deeper meaning, as they seek a spiritual gleaning,
From the unmatched Gift of love, presented by The Father above,
As He presented to men His Son, the Gift from God for everyone.
The Gift of God’s Son Jesus Christ, truly changes a receiver’s life,
Unlike any other gift on this earth, Christ gives to one a New Birth,
Born Again of The Spirit of God, while present on this earthly sod,
Born from above into God’s Family, not for a season but eternally.
Not only does God offer us rest, but, the Gift of Christ is the best,
His Gift, not available in a store, offers the receiver so much more,
Unlike all gifts from seasons past, the Lord’s Gift will eternally last,
For when in Christ you do believe, eternal life with Him you receive.
(Copyright ©12/2009)
A Saint I Ain't
If there is anyone seeking,
Anything in my life to taint?
I'll be the first to say...
A saint I ain't!
There is too much to explore.
Too much to experience,
Than to choose it to be ignored.
I want to adventure my life!
And that freedom nature offers.
And I can well afford.
Why should I deny myself...
To please those with their noses in the air?
With their stiff necks.
And their tight high lifted derrières!
People like that...
Can remove their behinds of my track.
The path on which I place my steps...
May shock others to hold their breath.
In fact...
Many like that,
Are busy body pests!
You know the kind...
Those who find time,
To wine and dine their displeasures.
As they pour someone's tea!
And I don't mind at all...
Serving up a full pot of my own for starters.
I want it known...
I can be quite cordial.
Even in the midst,
Of my own possible degradation.
I like to sit...
And listen to this mix of gossip.
The 'seriousness' of it...
Is worth a hasty limited visit.
I choose to do the unexpected.
With God's blessings,
Of course.
If there is anyone seeking,
Anything in my life to taint?
I'll be the first to say...
A saint I ain't!
Or profess to know,
What my 'Creator' wishes.
Like some hypocrites...
Quick to quip from scriptures.
I keep my eye on folks like that!
They can become defensive...
When questioned about their lack of facts.
Nor do I choose to walk on water.
Today...
I probably could.
Much of it is too polluted anyway.
Like some people with minds...
With nothing else to do,
But define how others should be living their lives.
Like 'themselves'...
Who have been certified self righteous.
And gossip as they sit in church pews.
Discussing where the pastor's wife,
Purchased her brand new shoes.
A saint I ain't.
Especially after observing...
Those who make claims,
They are the elite of 'christianity'.
And you can find them anywhere.
Once they have been seen...
Like roosters with hens pecking,
On any scene they pronounce as qualified...
For their self indulgence.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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As if There Are Exceptions to Mother Nature's Rules
Allowing anxieties,
And embittered feelings...
Of how things should be,
And how we'd like to see them done...
From our own perspective.
Needs to be released,
From the minds of those continually feeding...
On beliefs people and things remain unchanged.
When a day comes a day goes.
There is not a season that stays as it is.
But adults who are still children in their minds,
Find it difficult to leave behind...
That which is not coming back.
And it becomes unfortunate for many,
Who are not accepting of this natural process.
As if there is a fairy princess that will magically,
'Wand' their troubles away.
Accepting what is with a moving on is part of life.
Many are stuck and just refuse to do it.
As if there are exceptions to Mother Nature's Rules.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We Have Been Learning From Life
We have been learning from life from the day we've learned to crawl
And our gift of life 'twould seem to me is our greatest gift of all
And those who believe they know it all to themselves only lie
For we will be learning from life until the day we die
And life is never easy for many it would seem
So many low in confidence and low in self esteem
Those who aspire to great things treat lack of success as defeat
So many disappointed people living on every street
Of every town and city and that is Worldwide
A lack of success for many goes with a lack of pride
And that's how it has always been and how it will remain
Without personal success many believe respect you cannot gain
We have been learning from life before we crawled on the bedroom floor
And we would be learning from life if we lived for ten thousand years or more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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When and Where Did They Leave Behind Their Minds
I have been blessed to be in the presence...
Of those obsessed with the purchasing of things.
Themselves and what they possess.
And have them profess to me,
What 'I' could be and 'things' I could have...
IF I just put my mind to it!
So glad I endured such ignorance.
Little did they know,
I thought people like that were ridiculous.
And in time they would come to think of themselves,
That very same way.
It happens.
It pays to be observant.
What I have today and have had most of my life,
Is a sense of my own self worth.
What I have today and have had most of my life,
Is identity and self respect.
What I have today and have had most of my life,
Is my faith and gratefulness...
To know from where my blessings flow!
And the source of my insight.
And those folks...
Wouldn't leave from their doorsteps,
Without making sure their pretensions were intact.
But then again...
Times have changed!
And maybe some of them are scurrying around,
Trying to discover...
When and where did they leave behind their minds.
And what had been their purpose?
What purpose do they serve?
And how is that purpose felt?
Where is that purpose at?
Especially those clinging onto materialistic notions!
Believing themselves to be...
'Blessed and highly favored',
To have acquired positions of status.
With bling and other things to flaunt,
An eroding way of life that has them entrapped.
And I wonder...
Is 'this' a purpose?
Or is this,
A sad act!
God...
I thank You,
For showing me how to lead.
And not follow.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What Is It That You Are Trying To Solicit?
If I had nothing else to believe,
When nourished as a child...
So happy am I,
I had not been encouraged to be deluded...
By a perception that my physicality...
Was the only reason I had been given the gift of life.
And my existence was to receive compliments.
With the expectations to thrive on them to survive.
So many live from day to day,
Concerned about their appearances.
With nothing else to offer or to give...
But a donating of a consistent ego.
To then seek confirmation,
From those who are equally obsessed...
With the addressing of their shallowness.
And offended by those who do not take notice.
'I don't understand it.
My weave flows.
My eyebrows are arched.
And my butt is tight and bubbled.
Why can I not attract attention? '
~How much more of it do you want?
What is it that you are trying to solicit?
A husband a pimp or a circus tent? ~
'Thank you for your encouragement.'
~No problem.
That's why I am here.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Irrational and Radical Are The Changes
Irrational and radical are the changes.
And a leader selected is up to the task.
But many are living with minds locked,
In the past.
They can not grasp the notion of their desires,
No longer existing as reminsced.
Stuck they are in a time warp.
And this for them is unfortunate.
Irrational and radical are the changes.
It is as if Mother Nature is in on it.
It is as if the Earth too is disturbed...
And insists,
Only those priorities on Earth's list exists.
As we feed like ungrateful leeches.
Seeking to destroy,
The naturalness of things.
Irrational and radical are the changes.
As if a blame is trying to find a place,
To legitimize a reason why...
Upheaval is the only choice Mother Nature has made.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Chemical Love
People goin round
Tellin others they are square
Around and round in circles
Is a ride that goes somewhere
All you need to fly
Is a heart dying to try
A chemical love
Its a chemical love
Aint nothin to it
Gettin cash when you are broke
Doin lots of time
Is worth a little snort of coke
Infected needles
Can aid you in no time
Through chemical love
Youve got a chemical love
Some people crave for physical love
Some people crave material love
Yet fewer crave for spiritual love
Youve got a chemical jones
Youve got a chemical love
Yeah, a chemical love
Youve got chemical love
Some people find themselves hooked on the
Weirdest things
That have nothing to do with living
Gods gift to us is our life whats ours to him
If its not our love, then nothings given, given
Some people crave for physical love
Some people crave material love
Yet fewer crave for spiritual love
Youve got a chemical jones
For a chemical love
Yes its true
The best things in life are free
Not material
Chemical or physically
Try it for yourself
Youll get a guaranteed high
From spiritual love, natural miracle drug
Some people crave for physical love
Some people crave material love
Yet fewer crave for spiritual love
Youve got a chemical jones
Youve got a chemical love
Youve got a chemical love
For a chemical drug
Some people crave for physical love
Some people crave material love
Yet fewer crave for spiritual love
You need a spiritual jones
For that spiritual love
Im talking to you
We all could do with spiritual jones
For some spiritual love
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Of Life And Of Nature
I knew just as much about them fifty years ago
Of Life and of Nature as now I do know
Though from our dealings with people we learn every day
We learn as we live as some are known to say
But Nature of course is a different thing
And though the praises of Nature the Poets may sing
And though from living near Nature insights from her we do gain
Her secrets from us as great mysteries remain.
Even since the invention of the first motor car
Human kind in technology have gone so far
But the greatest are mere mortals just like you and I
And great minds are born and great minds must die.
The achievements of human kind doubtless are great
But Nature out of nothing something can create
And about Nature and Life today fifty years ago as much I knew
But each day from living we learn something new.
poem by Francis Duggan
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SONNET: Queries of Life
Why is that people fight o'er little things?
Why is that people act in silly ways?
Why is that people can't take what life brings?
Why is that people live idling most days?
Why is that people forget joys of life?
Why is that people commit sins galore?
Why is that people 'lose their cool' in strife?
Why is that people want and ask for more?
The greed for wealth afills men's hearts and minds;
The aim of life on earth is fast forgot;
The clock of life with labour much, man winds!
God is an endless line; man is a dot!
The search for truth and God is left unsought;
Hence, things go awry when God is forgot!
poem by John Celes
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Definitions
Things began to define them.
Giving them reason and a purpose to live.
Living without things teased...
They felt an emptiness within.
With a shallowness they would defend,
With pretention.
And an awareness of self...
A depth did not know.
They did not grow to love themselves...
If they could not purchase things to define them.
And definitions of who they were...
Had to have style and be flaunted,
To identify themselves with cliques of importance.
And...
Where they had been and where they are going,
Depend on things obtained to impress.
And not the lack of substance...
No one has that to qualify,
To ensure that can be addressed or expressed
With comprehension understood and digested.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Trinket Whipped Ways
None felt alive,
Unless something deemed of value
Adorned and flaunted their 'emptiness'.
Trinket whipped,
Are they who feel empty without...
A bauble, bangle or bead...
Dripping in diamonds or gold to flash about.
Trinket whipped to show a status diminishing...
As people awaken to what life really means.
For those who seek to be contented,
Free of disappointments,
And attention deliberately sought...
But not given in return,
To balance the price one pays and yearns for it.
Less fat makes one feel a release from traps.
Having less does not mean abundance has left.
A true quality of life accepts less attachments,
Allowing one to breathe.
And feeling free...
From things others define as 'good'!
For life to be gratifying as it satisfies...
A glimmer glistening and noticed!
The jokes people play on themselves.
And nothing is like enjoying life...
Away from those who identify themselves,
By the depth of their trinket whipped ways.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Restricted to 'Things'!
Just like that mortgage,
That now is worth more in payment,
Than the value of the house.
I am like that too.
With one difference.
I skyrocketed in value.
Once it was known...
You enjoy the visual side of life.
With 'things' now gone.
Living 'realities' tattered!
And I am about living life...
To soar beyond my wildest dreams.
And I could not see myself restricted to 'things'!
Imprisoned and smothered.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Is a Mission Commissioned
Born with desire inside,
Requiring each flight...
To be unique and different.
Exploring fresh destinations.
And commanding a wider vision,
On things.
On things freed from labelling...
That a limited mind,
Brings.
When unawakened.
And grounded to foundations,
Unchanged and shaking.
Breaking insights!
With the clipping of wings.
There is a mission commissioned,
By the very experience of one's birth.
To adventure a life given,
And to pride its worth.
With a sharing that becomes more valued...
Upon the Earth.
When that landing comes,
Within an opened consciousness...
Becomes realized.
And treasured by a witnessing.
There is a desire inside,
Requiring each flight...
To be unique and different.
Exploring fresh destinations.
And commanding a wider vision,
On things.
On things freed from labelling...
That a limited mind,
Brings.
When unawakened.
There is a mission commissioned!
With an assignment accepted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Protest With Those Protesting
Don't get erratic
Like the people in the streets.
I say emphatically...
Help them protest
A lack of quality!
You chased the 'bling' of things.
Titles and socialites,
And what you thought a good life brings.
You laughed at me.
Because I had my hands in toilets,
And cleaning sinks.
But I owned what I did.
And learned from invested time in it!
What did you learn?
How to pick up a pink slip...
Smile and be replaced!
Don't get erratic
Like the people in the streets.
I say emphatically...
Help them protest
A lack of quality!
I can think of no one better,
Than you.
How best to discuss,
A digust with a life you knew!
I can think of no one better,
Than you.
To protest with those protesting,
How they assisted themselves
In being screwed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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With A Prioritized Attention Given
Everyone living life,
Needs a little taste.
Of whatever for them will excite.
With a prioritized attention given.
From someone else that is mentioned.
To show they are willing,
To give another attention.
Something given to be received,
And acknowledged.
That satisfies a 'soul' to behold.
It seems unfair!
Not right,
That few appear to hog all of the attention.
All of the time.
Day 'and' night.
And some even making appearances,
Unintended.
In dreams of others unannounced.
Then disappear from sight.
As if they were invited.
To come and go as they please.
No wonder people are uptight.
Have you ever stopped to think.
Why is some create tension?
That end in conflict.
Or prolonging of unnecessary fights.
From birth this seems to be our first appetite.
We demand to get that attention fed.
Everyone living life,
Needs a little taste.
Of whatever for them will excite.
With a prioritized attention given.
A spoiled child whining.
With determination,
Will get some of it.
That's why many develop unhealthy addictions.
Smoking, drinking and over eating.
Whatever it is.
Something inside is needing to feed,
The grabbing of others' eyes.
Even if it takes an accidental stumbling into someone...
On public streets.
To then apologize.
Some kind of contact from another is what we all seek.
Whether or not that contact is obnoxious.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mr. And Mrs. James Akpan II
Of your spiritual inner-self,
Of my spiritual inner-self,
But, i am made among the people of this earth!
And, wisdom is my first priority;
However, Mrs. Akpan will still remember her words towards me on the day of the contract.
This muse of life is now being elevated with the peace of the mind,
These works of joy are now being seen among you all!
With the indications of love from my mind to influence you;
And like the road leading to the house of the royal elephant,
But, i am what i am today with the sweet muse of life.
Wisdom leads to great success! !
back in the days, and to remember this journey on the very hard road;
But, with the muse of my roots in mind to deliver my works,
However, i am what i am today with the sweet muse of life.
Peace and joy to the Akpan family whom i met some years ago in Lagos (Nigeria) !
For, my heart will always bring out peace and joy to all with my works;
And my mouth shall always speak out wisdom to teach many,
However, i am what i am today with much experiences in life.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Rather Unfortunate
I would say it and rather term it as unfortunate
As it had many divine aspects and things to relate
It was favored on me as divine bliss
I really cursed the situation as total miss
Not all are fortunate enough to witness the blessings
It may be in any form and may come in at any casing
So is the case with divine drops and vision
At the last moment person may miss it with confusion
This can be somewhat called as missed opportunity
The luck and chances are to be seized with ability
Miss it once and nothing is left to curse with
Next time be armed with resolve and closed teeth
Nothing comes in easy way
More you try and it will go away
Such is game of fate or luck
So much stock of ill luck may always be struck
People may also offer kicks
When you are wounded and forced to lick
They have no good words but to offer only sticks
If defeated then they may offer some other tricks
I would concede only on one consideration
The problems must have bearing on one relation
Either be prepared for acceptance or loss
There can’t be straight path or any cross
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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