Those Pickings Grow Slim
Although their cupboards are bare,
Those nourished on a greatness...
Have not been prepared,
To one day accept...
Their supply will be blocked.
No longer stocked,
With a variety of treats...
From which to pick and eat.
Or abandoned!
And as those pickings grow slim...
A protesting to be fed,
The familiar taste of delusion...
Begins to set in!
As vocal demands become impatient.
And,
However their demands are met...
And done,
Is all that they will welcome.
As they regard truths of shortages...
To be myths they resist,
And dismissed as jokes...
Poked,
On those less fortunate.
And they have been conditioned,
They will never become those folks to be poked...
Or joked.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Keys To Locks
Those conditioned to perceive themselves,
With undeniable rights...
To receive even when cupboards are bare.
Are those who will never be convinced,
An accustomed abundance...
Has exhausted what has always been believed,
Would be theirs.
A taking and not sharing had been a way of life.
A selfishness fed...
Comforted them in their beds at night.
And disregarding warnings,
Times come that will not be as bright...
For them is not accepted.
Preparing for these days,
They prefer to reject!
Those conditioned to perceive themselves,
With undeniable rights...
To receive even when cupboards are bare.
Are those who will never be convinced,
An accustomed abundance...
Has exhausted what has always been believed,
Would be theirs.
Even indebted to others they owe...
Can not be digested,
In minds isolated with only a selfishness known.
Even those with traditions fixed upon a worship of greed...
Refuse to accept,
Their wishes, wants, desires and needs...
Must be removed from their customes.
Since no longer there...
Are the tricks and treats that once easily pleased.
Even indebted to others they owe...
Can not be digested,
In minds isolated with only a selfishness known.
And...
Those conditioned to perceive themselves,
With undeniable rights...
To receive even when cupboards are bare.
Demand them to be restocked...
From those they owe who have keys to locks.
Those who now...
Command the blocking that stops!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Don't Do Demands
I don't do demands!
I 'may' take a request,
Every now and then.
Very cautiously.
At one time...
I would dropp whatever I was doing,
To be at someone's beck-and-call.
I had to put an end to that.
Some folks began making suggestions,
As to how I could do for them...
A better job!
YES.
'Maybe you should do it this way.
So and so said...'
I don't do demands!
I 'may' take a request,
Every now and then.
Very cautiously.
And...
Very cautiously,
I ask myself...
IF I am prepared to receive critique,
By the one who has asked for my assistance.
I don't do demands.
Especially made by those who say...
'Will you do this for me.
AND make comments.'
~I feel very appreciative,
You are demanding of my time.
AND...
You would like my comments,
As to how that time of mine I've spent...
Was enjoyed.
I'm getting goosebumps already.
I am shivering all over with just the thought of it.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dignity Demands...
dignity demands...
i be who i am,
i stand for what i am,
and i do so with respect!
dignity demands...
i see others for who they are,
that i accept them for who they are,
and do so with respect!
dignity demands...
that i live freedom and equality,
bound by no man nor creed,
and that i live with respect.
dignity demands...
that i do this job,
of living and giving well...
knowing respect brings respect!
dignity demands...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Love, passion and lust
Love demands no right;
Love demands no weight;
Love demands no return.
A mother thus loves.
Passion demands hold;
Passion demands right;
Passion demands return.
A woman can translate it.
Lust finds no ethics;
Lust exudes no fear.
Lust demands no reason.
A man is adept of it.
2202.10.2000, Vijayavada
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Art Consumes Flame Immortal Souls
What is the curse of no time
for any artist for all artists?
Art demands time
all consuming time
times of precise reflection
times of informative focus
times of intense productivity
times of perceptive clarity
times of felt vision testimony
times of account sensitivity
times of passion commentary
times of creative outpourings
times of artistic servitude
means art more demands
than a mere pound of flesh
art demands fibres of our being
art demands neurons identities
art demands touch sound stimuli
art demands light radiant souls
art demands devotes of the mind
art demands paid vision ransoms
art demands intense internal bleeding
art demands pain waltz symphonies
art demands epic universal certainties
art demands artists lifetime creations
art consumes flame immortal souls
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Skids Into A Fizz
The budget?
The budget as it is,
Has skidded into a fizz.
No one chooses to say 'flop'...
Hoping that a plot is schemed,
To return smiling and gleaming grins again...
To those so close to giving up.
The budget?
The budget as it is,
Has skidded into a fizz.
With a 'don't-plop-me-down-now-thud'!
And added fuss and frustration.
The budget?
We monthy cuss that budget.
That budget...
Has us all caught up in corruptness.
And feuding over turf outsourced and sold.
Long ago.
The budget?
Skids into a fizz.
And folks with lips poked...
Still want to feel,
They can pop...
More champagne.
The budget?
Skids into a fizz.
And folks with lips poked...
Still want to feel,
They can pop...
More champagne.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Eating Rattlesnake at Tortilla Flat
''It will taste just like chicken, ' the waitress said.
I poked at it a bit,
I did not finger-lick it,
I did not think of Cather or Steinbeck,
I thought of The Colonel instead,
Coughing out a laugh.
They gave me the rattle I no longer needed.
My father asked what
The matter was.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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Evolution of Truths
Experiencing now we are,
The evolution of truths.
Our consciousness can not resist it.
Preventing it is a fruitless pursuit.
All that was done prior to this change,
Has to be forgotten.
Times that are gone can not be relived.
Nor can they be rearranged...
To live a tomorrow expecting the same.
Experiencing now we are,
The evolution of truths.
Realities are not what they were.
Nor are caged animals at the zoo.
Every living thing on Earth is going through this.
If you believed reality was what you perceived it to be...
You are not alone.
You have much company.
The evolution of truths has arrived.
It has come uninvited.
And for anyone unaccustomed to quick changes,
As most are not when gate crashers pop in.
This process we are going through...
Is the difference between keeping a secret limited,
Within the neighborhood of gossips.
With that same secret already announced at Fort Knox.
Many are familiar.
Many wish to stop it.
Or have it blocked from our consciousness.
Experiencing now we are,
The evolution of truths.
Our mentalities can not resist it.
Preventing it is a fruitless pursuit.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Been There
Been there.
With lips poked out.
Doubting my life
Is anything to shout about!
Been there.
Feeling despair and an emptiness.
With anger prepared to inflict bitterness.
Wanting someone to care...
And declaring I couldn't share!
I've been there...
And I am not having any part of that,
Where I am now.
Those flaws have been removed from denial.
I am no longer thirsting to rehearse pretentions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Poses Taken to Take Them No Where
It's easy to sit back,
And say who needs direction.
But it seems as if those with the most lip,
Are the ones who are the least prepared to lead.
And those with ambition...
With their eyes on success to achieve,
Can not stop in their tracks seeking approval...
From those satisfied to sit together,
Getting fat nibbling on cheese.
And other assorted poses taken to take them no where!
These folks are not assertive.
Judgemental...
But not assertive!
It takes work to make things happen.
With sleepless nights a part of it!
If one knows what is wished to be accomplished...
The deed is in the doing.
Without manic tantrums in dramatic fits.
Or spoiled demands made by one,
Waiting for intructions to become assisted.
If one chooses to get things done...
It is best to take command,
And not make demands on those who question...
The qualifications of the one who created the plans.
Folks like this,
Meet and greet to promote stagnation.
Leave them in it,
And split!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Gall
At one time I responded freely,
To requests and invitations.
And sometimes gave unsolicited opinions.
I did this until a respect was lost.
With demands that I react...
To feed an expectation,
At the expense of my cost!
Who are these folks?
Who believe they can demand,
From one their time.
And showing no regard for them at all.
Who are these folks...
With this kind of gall?
I choose not to be around those who stink,
With conceit like that!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Narrowed
So much I want to see you grow.
But not with a holding onto your hand.
Some folks hold on much too long.
To discover,
No one accepts, comprehends OR understands...
Nothing around them.
Although feel entitled to make demands.
They do.
Without making a movement from where they stand.
This is true.
And where they stand is on changing land.
With a movement too.
Land that changes,
No matter who stands making demands to command.
And...
So many refuse to observe a wider view.
And they choose to keep visions,
Narrowed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Peace demands the most heroic labor and the most difficult sacrifice. It demands greater heroism than war. It demands greater fidelity to the truth and a much more perfect purity of conscience.
quote by Thomas Merton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Images Embedded In Heads Once Fed
The introduction of a feasting on greed,
Will never see a reduction of it mentally.
The feeding of the taste buds HAS been teased.
A scrambling for nuggets of what 'was'
Has too many on their knees,
Pleading for a return to satisfy their yearnings.
And regardless if the cupboards are bare,
Fantasies to replenish them
Even from the pounding on rocks,
From foundations crumbling,
Disturbed by the constant knocking of shocks
Will not stop a determined stubbornness,
That impairs a widening of fixed and restricted visions.
The seeking done of another way,
To restore what no longer exists
Has from minds been dismissed.
Since there are those who can not let go,
Of images embedded in heads once fed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Accept My Demands
These months were a battle
Of love and my pride,
Pride chose to surrender,
But I didn't mind.
I sang my own ballad
Along to your chords,
You failed as my shield,
I kept being your sword.
You asked for the world -
I could give you much more.
True life was somewhere
Behind the locked door.
Through all your nightmares
I kept holding your hand.
I drained my own sea
For your castle of sand.
Love made me its slave -
It's my porcelain strength.
Now beg for forgiveness,
Accept my demands!
You're charming, unique,
And your look is brand-new.
Your face in the mirror
Is one love for you.
One slut cost you more
Than the tears I shed,
And seeing you two
Made me feel just regret.
Now beg for forgiveness,
Feel guilty and pray!
Remember those months
And the last summer day.
I tried to be perfect,
I was at my best,
You turned all my life
To a terrible mess!
Love made me its slave -
It's my porcelain strength.
Now beg for forgiveness,
Accept my demands!
Accept my demands!
poem by April Avalon
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Fortunate Son
Some folks are born made to wave the flag
Ooh, they're red, white, and blue
And when the band plays hail to the chief
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, Lord
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no senator's son, son, son
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, no
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Lord, don't they help themselves now
And when the tax man comes to the door
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no millionaire's son, son, son
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, no, no
Some folks inherit star-spangled eyes
Ooh, they send you down to war
And when you ask 'em how much should we give
Ooh, they only answer more, more, more, more
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no military son, son, son
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, one, one
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate son, son, son
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Communication (Creation)
communication demands honesty,
honesty demands nakedness,
nakedness demands knowing who you are!
the act of creation merely
god communicating with herself!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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It Baffles Those Who Believe
I've transcended,
My own perception of greatness.
And what that is,
And means...
To me!
I had attached success,
To 'things' and possessions.
That eventually collected
On them dust specks!
I had danced to receive,
Invitations with congradulations.
Attended by high profile folks.
From various professions...
Who sat around and joked,
About poor people and how they spoke!
I thought happiness came with good credit.
And bank deposits that increased with a breeze.
And to answer my doorbell...
To find impatient celebrities,
Looking just for me!
And having spending sprees carefree...
In exotic places only the wealthy
Could afford to see.
But...
When I achieved a peace of mind!
The kind that found me,
Telling others where they could go...
After kissing my behind!
I knew I had 'arrived'!
I knew something inside of me...
Was very much prepared to shine.
And put aside that drive,
To compete with hypocrisy!
I can only describe that as greatness!
A clarity that sets one free,
And stripped boldly from delusions.
Very few can brag they've got that!
And it comes without a hint of spotlight wished!
I've got that!
Blissfully.
And it baffles those who believe,
I am standing in the wings...
Imaging myself hearing and receiving,
Deafening applause!
When I am not in awe at all.
Not by that ego trapping.
I am more shocked...
I have lost a pair of matching sox!
After laundry I have washed!
I've transcended,
My own perception of greatness.
And what that is,
And means...
To me!
My peace of mind,
I have discovered...
Is my treasure!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fortunate Son
Some folks are born
Made to wave that flag
Ooh that red, white 'n blue
And when they play
'Hail to the Cheif'
Ooh they point the cannon at you, lord
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate son
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, no
Some folks are born
Silver spoon in hand
Lord don't they help themselves?
And when the taxman
Knocks on their door
Ooh the house looks like a rummage sale, yeah
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate son
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no millionaires son, no, no
Some folks are born
Starspangled eyes
Ooh they send you out to war
And when Australia asks
'How much do we get?'
Ooh they just ask for more and more and more and more and more and...
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no millionaires son, no
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, one, one
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no CIA son, no
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate son, son, son
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Are the Myths
And when they awakened,
From a deep sleep...
No one could convince,
It was reality creeping in!
No one could convince them,
It was of their creation.
A tasteless blend...
No one offered to recommend.
It was fed right in their sight.
How could this be?
This unsettling vision that frights!
Stark and bare without a hint of spice.
For decades it was there!
It was as clear as the blight ignored!
Even though this appeared to them everywhere.
Many prayed these 'sightings' would go away.
It was too painfully portrayed.
Sugarless and embittered seethings...
Preyed upon their doorsteps!
But it was indeed 'reality' they dismissed.
And it wasn't going anywhere!
It was there glaring.
And they insisted...
They had no idea it existed!
Where are the myths they knew?
Who chased them to drift...
With a shallowness dismissed.
Where are the myths they once pursued?
And who has delivered this?
To leave for the unbelieving...
As a tormenting joke!
Left to traumatize and cripple as it sits!
Where are the myths...
To protect a comfort,
Many knew for them would be sorely missed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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