There Should Be Consideration Given
One can choose to read.
Rate to leave,
Or not!
That does not obligate.
Or necessitate demands to make.
Requests are made and extended.
And even in the doing of such deeds,
There should be consideration given...
To those who have preferences.
And often...
One who expresses a preference,
Is compliant to what that definition implies...
Something that is preferred.
Not suggested.
Or sought in random.
And rarely not solicited,
If this is not an action wished!
And still...
STILL,
Many just don't get it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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That Sense They Have of Entitlement
Some of you may become disappointed,
Your requests go unheeded.
With an attention sought...
You may believe deserved.
While others do not get upset,
Their requests are not met.
And they are the ones,
Who enjoy what they do.
Like many who pursue,
Choices they choose!
Yet some remain annoyed...
By having their demands,
Not followed through.
And they need to get over it.
That sense they have of entitlement!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Selective Relativity
It's all selective relativity.
If someone decides,
They like something preferred...
They ensure it becomes 'preferred'.
And that which is deemed superior in quality,
May never get a nibble.
Especially from those who have a preference,
For that which for them...
Expresses the best in tastelessness.
Remember...
Persuasion has been the key,
In the spreading of all decadence.
With a long lasting blinding acceptance.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Proclaiming Preferences
Feeling a bit threatened,
By those proclaiming preferences?
Only to then become offended,
When you have been omitted...
From being a preference one admits.
How traumatic?
And why is this?
One at first feeling threatened,
Should now feel relieved.
But noooo!
They decide they would like,
To taunt those proclaiming them.
Especially if those preferences,
Has anything to do with sex.
And those choices that have been expressed...
Does not include them as addressed.
It was only when those preferences were announced,
Did those previously minding their own business...
Went about doing what they normally would do.
Snooping between gossip hops.
With an attempt to acquire details...
About who does what with what they've got.
Then one day those with preferences,
Unlocked their doors and came out of closets.
And caring less who passed judgement on them.
They sought a happiness.
From lifestyles that had one time or another,
Had them feel both closed and trapped in.
Now today...
Those with old gossip,
Have nothing to say.
If fact they seem embittered...
To stay in relationships,
Daring to admit...
Their own activities,
Have long skipped over...
And beyond a 'curiousness'.
'What's the matter?
You look upset.'
~That 'misfit' told me,
I was not desirable...
On a kept preference list.
Can you believe this?
And I 'know' I am desirable...
IF I decided to choose to be!
And IF I wanted to be selected and picked.~
'Selected and picked?
For what? '
~You know.
For 'whatever' it is...
Those two over there are doing.~
'What are they doing? '
~You can not see what they are doing?
Look at them...
Closely.
And how they are looking at each other,
With 'those'...eyes.
And...
Out in public.
I am highly offended AND appalled.~
'What are you talking about? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Am Not In That Mood for Rates
How would I 'rape' myself?
Excuse me?
Oh!
I'm sorry.
How would I 'rate' myself?
You sent my high blood pressure
Straight to the roof!
Instantly I thought you sought some evidence.
Whew...
I know I'm being watched these days, '
But geeessshh.
I seek more privacy than that!
Oh!
I'm sorry.
How would I 'rate' myself?
For passion?
I am on the top of anyone's preference list!
For tenderness exchanged for slow seductive touches?
Anytime.
Not a preference.
But part of the package.
For satisfaction that completes?
Removing wet sheets to reveal a mattress soaked?
I'll do that...
Only if 'really' provoked to deliver.
What is between one and two?
Space?
A nothingness, right?
That space becomes a oneness churned.
Slower than your mama can make
The best homemade butter.
I'll leave you wanting to lick,
Every dropp I've got to give!
How would I 'rate' myself?
Why did you ask me that?
You're seeking testimonials and references?
That's going to be hard to do...
Since after a screw,
I am not in that mood for rates!
'As a poet! ? '
OH?
Why didn't you say that in the first place?
You know I'm going to give myself,
At least a 10!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Confined to Limitation Is Not My Taste
When it is suggested,
I could be more 'correct'...
In my approach that expresses,
A lack of a perfectness.
I do not get upset!
However,
Neither am I perfect.
Nor do I wish to be.
I leave that action for critics to take.
Since confined to limitation...
Is not my taste.
Although I do appreciate,
Those recommendations!
If I make mistakes...
So shall it be.
I am a writer not a critic.
And what I reveal and express,
Comes from within.
And with honesty from 'me'.
Those who seek and recognize perfection...
God bless you!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Worthless Propositions
Do not make attempts...
To obligate me or my time,
To decisions you make.
You will discover,
Your demands do not satisfy...
My approach to life.
And at best will be left,
As worthless propositions.
'Wow. Nice.
Now...
Do you mind reading my stuff?
Since I've read yours! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Not At All Publicly Gay
Believing to discredit him,
They would expose his sexual preferences...
And doing so would do him in!
But those of a higher consciousness,
Knew the difference between jealousy...
And a character assassination meant!
And the two 'men' pursuing these deeds...
Were often seen together,
Receiving compliments!
But they made it known they were not 'that' way!
They preferred to be 'down low'.
Not at all publicly gay!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If It Pleases
If it pleases...
Anyone is invited,
To say and speak
That which is on their mind.
Tongues of these,
Have been declared to be
Censorship free.
And acceptable.
Those who think pose threats.
And they may or may not upset,
The ones who protect themselves...
In safety zones condoned.
And yet...
A comprehension is expected.
Requests to understand perspectives,
Are solicited and collected.
And those choices selected are made.
To leave decisions made pleased.
In a climate made easier for explanations.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Rarely Do We Reflect
We choose what we wish.
And dish it.
As it sits with others,
To comfort or make sick.
What is that we hold,
That increases conflict?
Is it to betray ouselves?
In an eventual abyss.
We may elect to dismiss it.
And rarely is that done,
In self examination.
Rarely do we reflect,
Upon the effects of our deeds.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pick This to Leave
A product solicited and much too erotic,
With a marketing done to the very young.
In articles that blatantly state:
'Scope Upon Your Pleasures.
And Keep Fixed In Positions to Satiate.'
Promoting promiscuity.
And the irresponsibility,
Of random breeding.
What else could this be?
But a fostering of humanity,
Depleting in self defeat.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.
Don't need it.
Don't welcome it to feed it.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.
New addictions may appease.
But pick this from your head to leave.
Don't let this sit.
Pick this to leave.
Or become addicted.
Make this leave.
Don't be submissive.
Make this leave.
Don't think of this as a benefit.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.
Don't let this sit.
Pick this to leave.
Or become addicted.
Make this leave.
Don't be submissive.
Make this leave.
Don't think of this as a benefit.
A product solicited and much too erotic,
With a marketing done to the very young.
Someone, something has to stop it.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.
Don't let this sit.
Pick this to leave.
Don't give this even a chance to breathe.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.
Don't let this sit.
Pick this to leave.
Don't give this even a chance to breathe.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.
Don't give this even a chance to breathe.
Don't let this sit pick this to leave.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.
Don't let this sit pick this to leave.
Don't give this even a chance to breathe.
Nope. Nope...
Pick this to leave.
Nope. Nope. Nope.
Pick this to leave.
Nope. Nope...
Pick this to leave.
Don't give this even a chance to breathe.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Façade
Success had meant for many,
The acquiring of things.
And a dress to impress façade.
To gain attention and enhance,
A presence others would give approval...
And meaning.
But today a substance is more in demand.
A quality that expresses a genuine-ness...
Is a preference wished on fading deceiving scenes.
A success that impresses is slowly detected.
Folks today are seeking basic ways to live.
Finding themselves to be happier...
In participating in donating their deeds.
When that is done they quietly leave,
Without a need to make pronouncements.
Success had meant for many,
The acquiring of things.
And a dress to impress façade.
To gain attention and enhance,
A presence others would give approval...
And meaning.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Thinking I Was There to be The Only One!
She enjoyed her men packed.
He enjoyed his women stacked...
And full of chested love,
Kept bared
But they were not demonstrative.
And no one ever strayed...
To betray what they had together.
Who gave what and why is the question.
And who learned what lesson from this?
'You all are being too delusional'.
She enjoyed her men packed.
He enjoyed his women stacked...
And full of chested love,
Kept bared.
Preferences and prerequisites.
Sitting on a desk somewhere,
Collecting dust.
With references preferred,
And none to spare.
Mixed with preferences that are dated and timed.
These are new visions on the horizon,
Of my sunset?
And I'm a one on one kind!
With prerequisites.
Sitting on a desk somewhere,
Collecting dust.
And I'm thinking her kiss is for us.
When she has him and me on her mind...
For lust!
At the same time?
'Poppa don't arch his back for that! '
Preferences and prerequisites.
Sitting on a desk somewhere,
Collecting dust.
With references preferred,
And none to spare.
And I'm thinking her kiss is for us.
When she has him and me on her mind...
For lust!
Preferences and prerequisites.
Sitting on a desk somewhere,
Collecting dust.
With references preferred,
And none to spare.
She enjoyed her men packed.
He enjoyed his women stacked...
And full of chested love,
Kept bared
But for him.
Not for the whims she dared to expose.
I never thought I would think of her,
As a cheap 'ho'!
And There I stood.
Hiding in the bushes while another man,
Made her squeal louder than I could.
Louder than a man's man can.
Preferences and prerequisites.
Sitting on a desk somewhere,
Collecting dust.
With references preferred,
And none to spare.
Thinking I was there to be the only one!
Thinking no one like me could do her.
'And then...
Like a miracle,
You found your ass awakened!
Right? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dreaded Requests
I am not a rude or ignorant man,
but there are some things,
that I will not do.
Unfortunately, I do not like
to read a lot of what
I am politely requested to read.
I am often bombarded by people
asking me to read
and comment on their work.
I do not like to be rude
and ignore their pleas,
but I just read what I like,
not what I am asked to read.
I choose whom I like,
if I see a title I find interesting
I will take the time to read it
and make a mental note of the author.
If I like what I read,
I will dip into that author’s work
time and time again.
I do not care if they read my work or not
that is their choice and I have mine.
All I ask is let me make up my own mind.
Do not bombard me with notes
requesting that I read your work,
as I am likely to ignore them.
I am not being rude or ignorant
it is I just do not do requests.
poem by David Harris
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You May Not Remember Me. But...
The best advice ever given to someone,
Was probably solicited.
With a promise not to become offended,
When the decision was made to deliver it.
To eventually despise the one who was direct.
Yes?
And after years of being upset...
The one given the advice once in denial,
Recognizes the advice to be the best.
Right?
And then with a doing...
There is an attempt to make amends.
Hoping to be forgiven.
'Hello...
You may not remember me.
But...
I was the one who asked for your advice.
And after you gave it to me...
I accused you of being mean and cruel.
And did everything I could to ruin your life.
Do you remember me?
Hello?
Hello? '
Well...
In 'some' cases when asking for advice,
And that advice is disliked?
It is highly recommended,
To leave one's mother out of it.
With an insinuating of one's preference.
Or disgracing someone,
Because of something you've done!
Since it is hard to overcome,
An impression made left as a reference.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Are Just a Small Part of All of It
You wish to live life,
On your terms?
As if you have earned that right.
As if you command Summer breezes,
To caress your flesh both day and night.
Devoid of any obstacles on your path,
You might view in your sight!
Advice spoken may be for you traumatic.
And leave you feeling...
Your performance has not been that melodramatic.
However...
Keep your dreams alive and well.
But get up off your butt.
Don't give those dreams up!
See life for what it is.
Whether negative or positive!
And those you found time to listen to moan and whine?
Leave them behind to do that!
That is a trap!
Once you view your life as a gift given...
Realize it was a 'loan'.
Giving you a chance to invest.
Doing it at your best!
You may have expectations!
Like some who live with preferences?
Look around you.
Up and down!
You are just a small part of all of it!
And God did not gift you with life...
Based upon your demands!
You have been given a right to think.
And this I am sure leaves God amused!
You may make requests.
But God ultimately decides...
And He alone does the choosing!
Unless you have found another way,
To live on your terms without His knowing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Eyes Are Fixed Only Upon The Dealer
I've made comments.
And sometimes read more,
Of your work.
I may or may not give what I read a rate.
I appreciate the giving done.
Because I know what that takes.
But to suggest that I must read,
Your submissions with a rating I don't feel.
Doesn't do the craft any justice at all.
Going through the motions,
To appeal an ego seeking to be massaged.
With a zap to zing a zest,
That produces an invitation to squeal with zeal.
Ugh!
I never was one to seek that kind of praise.
Since my connection began with pure love.
You know?
I'm one of those who do it for the art types!
I've made comments.
And sometimes read more,
Of your work.
I may or may not give what I read a rate.
I appreciate the giving done.
Because I know what that takes.
But I'm not going to foresake what I do for you.
Nothing like that appears in the deck of cards...
God has dealt to me.
And until I leave...
My eyes are fixed only upon The Dealer.
That's it!
This is His game.
Not mine.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sonnet: Choose The Things in Your Life
0 choose your friend who must be good as you;
And choose your spouse better than you; make sure;
And choose the one best as your Teacher too;
And choose ambitions that suit your nature.
0 choose the profession thats truly best;
And choose the hobbies that ne'er interfere;
And choose your Time to begin work, take rest;
And choose your enemies, you surely fear.
0 choose your food that gives extended health;
And choose your garments -comfortable wear;
And choose the honest way to added wealth;
And choose the burden right, body can bear.
0 choose the people who deserve help most;
And choose good principles, yet never boast.
poem by John Celes
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Your Expectations
Once words leave from my mouth to be said,
They are not rehearsed to fit snuggly...
To take into consideration your preferred wishes.
In a way that is expressed to address,
Your expectations.
No! That is not what I do.
I am too honest with myself.
If you choose to confuse my words as something else,
Communicating with me is not your desire.
Not if you want to comprehend my feelings,
To mean something else you wish to approve.
I will not manipulate my words in premeditation,
To please what you want from me to hear.
I do not live to feed the keeping of your delusions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One Too Many Times
When did the saying to someone 'No! '
Become an invitation to annoy without end?
I can understand why some parents
Have become immuned to listening
To the demands of their children
No longer are requests asked
With courtesy and respect
But a total lack of consideration
Has fast disappeared
From an expectation of getting it heard
Coming with a breath of sincerity
And saying 'no' to anyone today
Gives them rights to say
Why someone is disliked
And that 'no' expressed just might mean
The one saying it has said 'yes'
One too many times!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What I Want For You to Do
I am asked to do 'this'.
With a request to do 'that'.
I am even asked to rate a significance...
Upon completing those tasks that I'm asked.
To accomplish every one I get!
Folks could care less when they make requests.
And I can perceive how some are caught up in it!
Believing that an attention given...
Will keep me interested and content!
As if what I do is not a sacrifice.
But comes from a natural 'oozing' done...
From some 'other' source,
That's an outside device.
'And...hmmm,
That could be a possibility.
Now that 'that' has now occurred to me.'
I sometimes will read those requests I get.
But no one has yet to answer my questions...
'What's in it for me?
What do I get?
What do I receive as my benefit? '
Love?
And don't say you'll do for me,
What you've requested me to do!
And yet have I had a delivery,
Of freshly minted one hundred dollar bills.
To pop out of a box over stocked.
Not once!
Besides...
I am more original than that!
I want returned to me...
The time taken away from what I love.
Since it took me quite some time,
To find myself quite in love with it!
And not a response do I get!
Except the usual...
'But you're already doing,
What I want for you to do for me too! '
EXCUSE ME?
And those requests,
Get my silence at its best!
Since I recognize...
There is no shortage or famine,
Of this kind of selfish greed.
From Sunset to Sunrise!
It is as 'if' my eyes are 'theirs'...
And will supply them vision.
With a clarity I can provide.
And if that's the case...
Someone should get me 'booked'
On Oprah!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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