They Are Afraid They Will Not Be Fed
Why argue with those who oppose reality?
Addicted they are to drippings,
From a rusted faucet...
Slipping out of reach.
Stereotypes is the one mindset liked.
A brand all behold as the desired preference!
And they wear these 'logos' bold.
They continue to endorse their own afflictions.
Their own welfare mentalities.
Their own victimization with insecurities.
Very few view this as a deformity of a normalty!
They are pleased to peacock and flaunt...
A defunct existence.
Why argue with people like this,
Who insist they wish to be free?
What is it that they are needing...
Besides an identity?
And 'that' has them trapped in subservience.
A condition they pray never leaves!
No matter how long they prolong their own bleeding.
Or a wake up call no one dares to heed.
They are afraid they will not be fed...
If answered!
Even though most of them exist,
In blighted circumstances no one resists.
And the pleasure of this...
All has entertainment gains!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Habitually Fixed
People addicted to nonsense,
Are no different than those addicted to crack.
Or any other sedation that medicates.
Dumbed down and seeking entertaining escapades.
And afraid of any thought process,
That causes comprehension.
Or communicating some of that might exist.
People addicted to nonsense,
Prefer to see a disagreement with their ideologies...
As confrontations..
With a nothingness with someone in this mindset,
That ever gets done.
Dumbed down and seeking entertaining escapades.
And afraid of any thought process,
That causes comprehension.
Or communicating some of that might exist.
This activity is representative of those who create conflicts,
To protect interests.
And those interests have been habitually fixed to delusions.
And people like this,
Stubborn and fixed...
Live assuming any progress that moves forward,
Is a conspiracy that threatens their beliefs!
And as long as they keep passing the 'pipe' around...
They will interpret the crumbling of foundations,
As a work of art!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Entertainment
Theres been another assassination
T.v. cameras moving in.
To shoot the bloodstains on the pavement
And get them on the news at ten.
Will he live or will he die, before we go on the air?
Yes, the networks are all there, in the name of
Entertainment.
Superstar psycho, from a killer to a hero,
An overnight sensation on the lips of all the nation
Is he mad or is he sane? it makes for good conversation
I call it suffering and pain, but they call it entertainment
Sex violence murder and rape. (entertainment entertainment)
Thats what you came for, thats what you pay for.
Entertainment, entertainment.
They call it entertainment
Inform us, educate us with your media machine
(call it entertainment)
Tell me what to dream
(call it entertainment)
You pay your money, what do you get?
Entertainment.
Real life for entertainment,
Cheapens my reality,
So that hollywood can make it into another b movie
The vultures get the rating and the people get the thrills
But the victims always pay, I guess they always will.
Sex violence murder and rape (entertainment entertainment)
Thats what you want, thats what they need,
Thats what you came for, thats what your paying for.
They call it entertainment (call it entertainment)
Inform us, educate us with your media machine,
(call it entertainment)
Tell me what to dream
(call it entertainment)
You pay your money, what do you get?
Entertainment, entertainment.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Once Upon A Time
Whatever that is in your mind,
Keeping it confined to Once Upon A Time
Fantasized stories...
With such a determination to see them come to life,
Is a condition of madness enforced!
With an adoption that has altered your senses.
Senses you've learned to endorse.
And pointless it is to argue with folks like you.
Or debate aspects of a reality...
Nonexistent in your view.
Nor can I question your loyalty.
That would be considered a crime committed.
And 'that' I choose not to do!
You are too obviously devoted,
To what has made this place great!
You definitely pose no one here a threat.
Or hesitate to defend the state of your mentality.
Hey...
It's all good!
However...
IF you begin to notice,
Drastic changes to your world happening soon?
Don't get too upset.
They are just rearranging the focus of the lighting...
With a few scenery changes!
And they have begun to 'update' the sets!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Precious Time
Precious time is slipping away
But youre only king for a day
It doesnt matter to which God you pray
Precious time is slipping away
It doesnt matter what route you take
Sooner or later the hearts going to break
No rhyme or reason, no master plan
No nirvana, no promised land
Because, precious time is slipping away
Yuu know youre only king for a day
It doesnt matter to which God you pray
Precious time is slipping away
Say que sera, whatever will be
But then I keep on searching for immortality
Shes so beautiful but shes going to die some day
Everything in life just passes away
But, precious time is slipping away
You know shes only queen for a day
It doesnt matter to which God you pray
Precious time is slipping away
Well this world is cruel with its twists and turns
Well the fires still in me and the passion burns
I love a medley til the day I die
til hell freezes over and the rivers run dry
Precious time is slipping away
You know shes only queen for a day
It doesnt matter to which God you pray because
Precious time is slipping away
Precious time is slipping away
You know youre only king for a day
It doesnt matter to which God you pray
Precious time is slipping away
Precious time is slipping away
You know youre only king for a day
It doesnt matter to which God you pray because
Precious time is slipping away
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
O, People
O, people
O, what are they living for?
They stay till midnight
Say there’s no enough time
And afraid what’ll happen tomorrow
O, people
How many faces they should wear
To show pride and to hide
Don’t reveal dark inside
Fake emotion, many crying are naught
So is this how the world’s spinning?
Ignore what we are feeling
Take you want, leave me none
Give me love then the pain
Never know when the truth is lie
O, people
Why are they hard to understand?
They argue long then they fight
Say they who should be right
Give me almighty reason to blame
O, people
When will they try to remember?
Want to learn from mistake
Listen what others said
So we could live in peace together
So how will this story be end?
Will I be trapped in another game?
Or like the moon can’t be full again
But somehow I just understand
That life always goes on circle
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Finding God In A Relationship
By experience it is learned God do exist,
that He is more than mere words in a holy book
and although some people may insist
that He is in reality not there,
does not exist anywhere,
by each thing we did undertook,
in a relationship it becomes clear
that He is truly near
listening in sympathy,
setting the way to be free
from the labyrinth that we weave,
when we find reality to what we do believe.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Pray, Forgiven
I pray for love,
I pray for joy,
I pray for peace,
I am forgiven.
I heard of Christ,
the way he died.
His life was pure
but he died for me.
His blood cleansed my heart,
mind, body, and soul, because of him,
I am free.
Satan can't torture me,
because I believe that Jesus died to save me.
I'm not afraid, I'm not scared,
I'm ready to fight for Jesus Christ.
He opened my eyes, ears and heart,
and brought me to reality.
I love him, trust him, and believe in him.
His word is all truth and can make me brand new!
I pray for all humanity, that love and kindness
will spread farther than the sea.
One day he will call my name and be pleased with me for all of my faith,
but best of all... I know I am saved! =)
poem by Garnett Angel Loving Soul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In the spirit of Rumi 44 -Between, lies beyond
Some men argue all their life
against predestination
Some men argue all their life
against free will
You argue with yourself all your life
about predestination and about free will
Wise men say that God is to be found
where opposites meet and are resolved
Between predestination and free will
is to be found belief.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Condition Critical
Oh the tension's mounting
The pressure starts to show
All the men in haunting
Please don't let me go
(Don't go)
Try to free my body
(Don't go)
Try to strap me down
(Don't go)
These'll never break me
(Don't go)
Free wheel to look at me
Condition critical
I'm feeling physical
Condition critical
Now I'm really cynical
The bells they are ringing
Or is it in my head
My nerves numb understanding
I'm falling out of bed
(Don't go)
So call it paranoia
(Don't go)
I don't see it that way
(Let's go)
You say I adore ya
(Hell no)
We're gonna rock they way
Condition critical
I'm feeling physical
Condition critical
Now I'm really cynical
Ooh ooh
Whips and chains
Don't feel no pain
What's so wrong
I think I'm going out of my head
Over heels
I can't feel
No pain, only pleasure
Get me out
Take me home
Can't you see my condition
Woo-woo-woo
Condition
Condition
Condition critical, critical
Condition
Condition
Condition critical
Condition critical
I'm feeling physical
Condition critical
Now I'm really cynical
Condition critical
I'm feeling physical
Condition critical
Now I'm really cynical (Cynical)
Condition
Condition
Condition critical, critical
Condition
Condition
Condition critical, critical
Condition
Condition
Condition critical, critical
Condition
Condition
Condition critical, critical
Condition
Condition-aca
song performed by by Quiet Riot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Unstable and Unfit
When people hide behind deceptions...
As if they are walls of cement.
These are the folks who do not realize...
Their lies have fenced them inside mentalities,
To eventually show themselves as demented.
They do not perceive dishonesty as weak.
As long as they are in the reception...
Of others with similar beliefs.
And when folks like this,
Come to unite together in a collectiveness...
They do not realize their acts develop illnesses.
And they rush to seek perscriptions quick,
From those who benefit...
Handsomely,
By keeping them addicted to such sickness.
In industries that hospitalized them...
With not a chance to confront,
The healing that mends the origins of their afflictions.
If that happened,
None of this would exist!
But there is a need to keep them mentally,
And physically dependent!
Socially unstable.
And psychologically unfit!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Month Of Re-Enforcing Stereotypes Has Arrived
The month of re-enforcing stereotypes has arrived.
With a naming of a few who broke away from them,
To remind others they too have the same potential...
If they embraced discipline, devotion and a work ethic.
It's the month of re-enforcing stereotypes.
And folks who have waited to use the words 'niggers'
'coons', 'jungle bunnies' and other degrading references...
Depicting people of color,
Can do so to say they are celebrating bondage.
Since...
Isn't that the purpose?
To keep people reminded of their slave mentalities.
OR like some folks like to address their 'connections' as...
Keeping themselves down to Earth.
And...
With much assistance,
What a good job people have done...
To prove a legacy of ignorance can have its visual benefits,
For all who are determined to keep stereotypes alive.
Note:
Are these images subtle? Not anymore. In fact depictions of
ignorance 'are celebrated where I live in Hartford, Connecticut.
And thought to be 'cute' by those totally absent of identity.
When a picture from Kemble's Coons (Authored by Edward Windsor Kemble)
shows a coon with a naked black child sitting high in a tree,
eating on an ear of corn, and I know this reflects the mindset of the people...
this picture released and shown to begin celebrating Black History Month,
can be upsetting. ESPECIALLY when there is no acknowledgement, whatsoever,
of Jimmy Brown who was the first Black President of The Hartford Board of Education.
AND those who are 'celebrating' those deeds of black folks in this 'town'...
Have no idea who he is.
'Is 'this' poetry? Is 'this' a slice of life? Yes, it is. A poetic flowing of an intention! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Got It Easy Free to Love
We've got it easy free to love.
But people choose their enemies.
Some people say they pray to God,
But continue searching to welcome defeats.
And many everyday lose faith,
Craving temptations they can not leave.
With teasing done by limitations plentiful.
That keeps the pleading daily addicted,
On roughened hands and bruised up knees.
We've got it easy free to love.
But people choose their enemies.
Some people say they pray to God,
But continue searching to welcome defeats.
With a hunting for them on urban streets.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I am an actress
I cry and you hear me laughing,
I am angry and you see me smiling,
I pray and you think I live,
I tell you the truth and you don't believe,
I make mistakes and you do not forgive,
I am so week and you say I am strong,
I am right and you say I am wrong,
I look at your eyes and you look at the floor,
I don't want to argue and you want more,
I hate and you flatter,
I suffer and you say it doesn't matter,
I hold out my hand and you clench a fist,
I speak about love and you say it doesn't exist,
I am happy and you do not see it,
I run and you make me to stumble,
I show you my love and you just gamble.
I've got so many masks
and you do not try to take them off.
I am an actress and you are watching a film
which is not on the screen but in reality.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Would Be The Point
What would be the point,
If a blade of grass
Was not meant to feel,
Its importance?
Would it be inspired to grow?
And to whom and what,
Does it attempt to impress?
Another blade of grass,
That stretches to grow fast
From its seed.
What would be the point,
If no flower bloomed.
To provide the bees,
With no nectar to gather.
To return to a hive.
Does it do this,
To keep itself alive?
What would be the point,
For the trees to exist?
If the leaves that grew from them,
Did not assist in the mixture of air.
That helped us breathe.
Do the trees do this,
To flaunt its deeds?
And what would be the point,
For us to seek love.
If all we did with it was to argue,
Again and again as if to win
Debates,
As to who is more deserving
To appreciate this gift of life?
With a stubbornness to convince,
Who is wrong.
And who is right.
What would be the point,
To argue, fuss and fight
If all of us knew this gift of life,
Was meant.
If not
Who's side of the argument makes sense?
If we all are here,
Getting the same attention.
And perhaps
In getting that attention,
There is envy and jealousy?
And anyone who says they believe with faith
Would observe that God has created abundance.
And those who choose to take and not give,
Seem to the ones self destructing.
At their own expense!
To make what point?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We Are That Game to Be Played
Against the tremendous magnitude,
Of 'this' part of the universe...
We will continuously pursue,
With persistence...
The insignificance of our existence.
To create a self importance.
Instead of enjoy with a caring,
What we now could share.
Before a nothingness of this experiment,
Goes away to replenish...
What was here before we came!
A feeding of a cosmos...
Determine to remain the same.
Allowing us to exist!
And not 'IT' as we insist!
We are that game to be played.
Not 'IT' to play to change.
No matter 'what' or 'who' we call upon to pray.
We are the game played!
And it is not the other way.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Defending My Right To Exist
Defending my right to exist...
Didn't leave too much time,
To feel insecurities.
Or get emotional about them.
I was always reminded that I wasn't who I was!
I looked like so and so,
And spoke like someone else.
And living in a place where nicknames were preferred,
It was rather difficult to maintain an identity.
Since being clownish and down to Earth,
Was a lesson taught.
And to be ignorant was the main objective.
Few people dared to express knowledge of anything.
Hey,
What can I say?
Even today...
This is not an exaggeration.
Needless to say,
Folks still living in that same mindset...
Seem not to be able to understand,
Why their visits to jails and prisons...
Are more frequent and have more of a priority,
Than when their 'children' were misbehaving in schools.
And teachers are blamed for this?
Defending my right to exist,
Didn't leave too much time,
To feel insecurities.
Or get emotional about them.
I was always reminded that I wasn't who I was!
However...
I was told I 'thought' I was better than everyone else,
Because I spoke as if I was 'intelligent'.
You know,
Clear and not like a...well...
Bunny rabbit!
And I had more than being a 'bad' little boy,
With going to jail on my mind.
I wanted to have my own identity for some reason.
With a wish to be successful at whatever I chose to do!
And there are those who try to convince others,
My accomplishments do not mean a thing!
And to them,
I wouldn't expect that they would.
Since I've lived to witness...
What many of them regard as important.
And hearing the children who brag,
About how much jail time they have served.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Slipping Away
Guess it's just another dream
That's slipping away
Each time I fall asleep
It seems I'm just drifting away
Just as yo have touched my heart
Babe I wake and we're apart
Yeah and it's slipping away
Here comes just another day
That's drifting away
Every time I draw a breath
It's dying away
First the sun and then the moon
One of them will be around soon
Slipping away
Slipping away
Drifting away
Slipping away
Just as you have touched my heart
I wake up babe and we're apart
It seems we're slipping away
Slipping away
Slipping away
All I want is ecstasy
But I ain't getting much
Just getting off on misery
It seems I've lost my touch
Well it's just another song
But it's slipping away
We we didn't sing it long
'Cos it's fading away
First the sun and then the moon
One of them will be round soon
Slipping away
Slipping away
Slipping away
song performed by by Rolling Stones from Steel Wheels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Others May Mistake A Duck
I remember being defined,
By...
How I spoke with a wish to be understood.
Pronunciating words with a clarity.
And spoken in the way they were spelled,
As they were meant to be.
I was not the one to accept mediocrity.
I remember being judge by the way I looked.
Where I lived and the interest in others I took.
And what I had to present and didn't.
I was 'out-of-it' to many.
And this was said to me as if to restrict.
I remember putting a stamp on my identity.
And the acceptance of this,
Had been rejected by others who could not then see.
In fact...others would approach me,
As if I had commited treason.
Or had an incurable disease.
People can be cruel when making their assessments.
As if those selected needed to be taught a few lessons.
Today with integrity and my identity intact,
I do not declare my 'Blackness'.
I've always been proud of that.
What is obvious to me needs no announcing of fact.
Or do I oppose those with a host of opinions,
To appear more bold to the ones opposing my goals.
Finished or not they will never be diminished.
I have learned not to pay naysayers any attention.
Or give them time to stretch the limits of their minds.
If others may mistake a duck in wasted debates,
To argue what they see is a parakeet...
Or something else to be caged.
They will have those same issues forever on display.
Regardless how outdated their manifestations,
With them stay.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On Top of Earth I Will Stroll
I wish someone would stop me,
And ask me why I peacock.
As if I am not suppose to flaunt,
My pride and dignity.
Only those threatened by arrogance,
Should evaluated the keeping...
Of their own insecurities.
Instead of proclaiming to be,
One who is down to Earth.
If I am not beneath it yet,
On top of Earth I will stroll.
With a flaunting done,
Undaunted.
No time do I spend,
Competing to defend...
Or understanding weaknesses,
I have taken time from myself to rid.
I've learned how to stroll,
And be bold with the doing.
Arrogance?
I don't take time to define the doing of it.
Or do I attempt to comprehend,
Why people spend most of their lives...
With their noses in the business of others.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!