Tis With Unsweetened Revenge
If decisions are made to slander and libel,
At the expense of someone's reputation.
Anonymously!
And with projected spice.
For additional irritation!
Wouldn't that be cause for calls of public flogging?
With selected garments chosen,
To expose the butts of those caught by surprised,
With their pants down.
'Is that a 'pun'? '
No!
Sacred posteriors exposed would be puns!
This should not be debated in a court of law.
Especially if someone initiates,
The undermining of another.
With intent.
The due process this culprit should expect,
Is a tinge of unsweetened revenge...
That promotes the art of freelance butt kicking!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Slander
The word is out -- heads are talkin
And just like a fire ragin wild in the night,
The rumors hot, the room is rockin,
Its out of control, too vicious to fight
Two lovers split -- a heart is shattered
And out of revenge it steals through the night,
Making sure the lies are scattered
To every border of this town tonight
The words on the street, you call it truth,
I call it slander,
Times are tough, talk is cheap --
Soon theyll talk about you --
Slander
The jury splits -- undecided,
Theyre searching for clues,
My live in their hands
The hour has come, they stand divided,
The future shall judge the good and the bad
And now, theres talk on the street --
I call it slander,
I will fight this somehow
Revenge will be sweet
Slander -- like a knife in my heart --
Slander
Slander -- gonna keep us apart --
Slander
Slander c theres talk on the street
Slander -- revenge will be sweet
Slander -- Im ready to fight
Slander -- I will find it tonight
Slander -- like a knife in my heart --
Slander
Slander -- gonna keep us apart
Slander
Slander -- theres talk on the street --
Slander -- revenge will be sweet
Slander -- too vicious to fight
Slander -- wild in the night
song performed by by Survivor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yours Seem To Be On Your Shoulders
At times your tongue,
Seems ready to spit fire.
Why so quick,
To expose and display...
Such an attitude laced,
With embitteredness?
'Well,
Let's see.
Maybe it is residue left over,
From the years I have experienced...
Being a Black man.
Who knows?
And maybe...
Just being a human being around those,
Who have chosen to follow along...
Like programmed robots when I am not.
And I am reminded of those times...
When pretentions were easily spotted.'
And today?
'Today?
No one cares.
Most eyes are focused on exposed butts.'
And this reality makes you disgruntled?
'Of course it does.
Even though I am told,
I have a butt of a nineteen year old.'
By who?
'Nevermind.
Who's behind is it? '
And today...
Yours seem to be on your shoulders!
'Like I said...
It is mine to flaunt.
Whether or not it is on my shoulders.
I am in no attitude to conduct a random survey.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Growing Up In Public
Some people are into the power of power
The absolute corrupting power, that makes great men insane
While some people find their refreshment in action
The manipulation, encroachment and destruction of their inferiors
Growing up in public, growing up in public
Growing up in public, growing up in public with your pants down
Some people are into sadistic pleasures
They whet their desires and drool in your ears
Theyre quasi-effeminate characters in love with oral gratification
They edify your integrities, so they can play on your fears
Theyre gonna do you in public, cause youre growing up in public
Theyre gonna do it to you in public,
cause youre growing up in public with your pants down
Some people think being a man is unmanly
Some people think that the whole concepts a joke
But some people think being a man is the whole point
And then some people wish theyd never awoke
Up from a dream of nightmarish proportions
Down to a size neither regal nor calm
A prince hamlet caught the middle between reason and instinct
Caught in the middle with your pants down again
Caught in the middle, Im really caught in the middle
Im caught in the middle, caught in the middle deciding about you
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Finally Accept The Process
As much as I hesitated,
And debated with myself...
To finally accept the process,
I 'allowed' myself to age.
Yes!
I 'allowed' myself to do this in stages.
Since I did not want to become overwhelmed,
By an event I was not sure I wanted to attend.
Although others I viewed seemed surprised by it too...
With a protesting shown and much unhappiness.
However, unlike them...
I decided I would not get too comfortable,
With any stage that came to end.
Some chose a stage with a wish to stay.
And fighting with themselves along the way.
I even witnessed others,
Doing their best to prevent maturity.
None physically succeeded,
But mentally...
Many could easily claim a success.
As much as I hesitated,
And debated with myself...
To finally accept the process,
I 'allowed' myself to age.
Yes!
And as each day passes,
I feel more and more blessed.
I no longer feel I should 'allow' this process.
Since I now do it without thinking about it,
With an acceptance felt for me that is best.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Prisoner
Upspoke the culprit at the bar,
Conducting his own case:
'Your Lordship, I have gone to far,
But grant me of your grace.
As I was passing by a shop
I saw my arm go out,
And though I begged of it to stop,
It stole beyond a doubt.
'But why should my whole body be
Condemned to dungeon grim,
For what in fact was only the
Transgression of a limb?
So here before the Court I stand,
And beg in Justice' name:
Please penalise my arm and hand,
But not my frame.'
Outspoke the Judge with voice of ice,
Although a smile he hid:
'Quite right! You should not pay the price
For what one member did.
Your reasoning I must admit;
Your arm should gaol expect . . .
Three months! And if you follow it
The Court does not object.'
The culprit smiled with sudden charm,
Then to the Court's dismay,
Quickly removed a wooden arm
And went away.
poem by Robert William Service
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Domestic Violence
Burned to a crisp,
And blistered by it.
Some may not come to expect,
A direct announcement one might get.
From one sharing a relationship...
That time has come,
For the two of them to split!
Burned to a crisp,
And blistered by it.
Some signs are subtle.
Like an introduction made,
Of a new face someone has laid.
Under unusual circumstances.
When a spouse or a mate...
Is caught in broad daylight,
Making obvious advances.
Other signs are more direct!
Like catching a spouse or a mate,
Making arrangements for a date!
And that date shows up...
To immediately strip,
And both expose naked butts!
THIS is a 'clue'...
Someone has been fooling around,
On you!
And cares less what it is you do!
I would think this relationship...
Has lost something 'valued' too!
Wouldn't you?
Burned to a crisp,
And blistered by it.
Some may not come to expect,
A direct announcement one might get.
From one sharing a relationship...
That time has come,
For the two of them to split!
And to prove this...
Someone dares to incite,
Domestic violence!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Leave A Selected Few Believing
People are trying to understand,
The process of life and death.
With a more comprehension,
To help ease their demands.
And expectations that can be anticipated...
With an acceptance projected to instill interest.
.
But to what are they comparing,
This process of life to?
Since no one can say,
They have the facts that exist.
And can reveal them to prove!
Although destruction of it,
Has been permitted as witnessed.
Life is to be lived as is given unconditionally.
Not to be created unsuccessfully...
Through the use of test tubes.
With a dismissing of this 'majesticness'...
For a foolish marketing of eternal mortality!
To leave a selected few believing,
A 'forever' in a changing Universe is in their reach!
And they have been chosen as 'special' entities.
For a bliss to live in their concept of perfectness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Foolish Rush to Pass Our Judgements
Wouldn't it be great,
If we could reach back in time...
And replace our decisions made.
With a clarity now so obvious,
That what was chosen to dismiss...
And the 'who' and the 'why'
For our foolish rush,
To pass our judgements...
Have no intentions to express an empathy.
None to be received in our direction.
The pain,
Is unbearable!
Isn't it?
Now many of us sit with feelings,
Of fading arrogance.
While realizing an ignorance displayed,
With horrific public temperments...
As if self centered children!
And fuming with such viciousness,
Consciously directed to 'that'
Which unknowingly to 'us' had our backs.
That are now up against the wall.
As some choose to wear Foster Grants,
To hide the tears falling from their eyes.
And those who knew of our activities done,
Now shun 'us'!
With a wish not to look in our direction.
Those kind of lessons learned forever scar.
Leaving the ones who have chosen to masquerade,
In the wrong parades selected...
To flaunt irreplaceable misdeeds.
Pleading for an opportunity,
To correct what has been done!
And anyone who has ever done this before,
Knows how difficult it is...
To retrieve and collect thrown confetti!
The quality of it with a freshness maintained,
Will never be the same.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Do This With Interest Shown
When you have finished,
Searching for more dirt...
That has not been revealed,
To appeal to your taste.
For smearing...
Undermining and ruining,
Those who have more than paid their dues.
By the good deeds done with sacrifice,
They continue to do.
Know this,
Your investment in wickedness...
Has not been discreetly hidden.
And you are about to receive the bill,
That requires not only that you pay...
For your offenses spent to diminish and defame,
At another's expense.
But that you also do this with interest shown,
Quick.
Or something that resembles a swiftness.
And,
With such public speed exposed.
Knowing,
That your days are numbered!
And please...
Do not regard this as a warning.
Regard this as a promise of delivery,
Long overdue.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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SUPREME COURT SHOULD BE ELECTED July 1st,2011
The question is, how many Supreme Court judges should they make?
I say they should be elected because there’s too much at stake,
Abortion decisions and death with dignity are only two,
We’re in too deep, can’t change; caught in their hidden agenda glue.
Media moguls all want in on the secret selection game,
Male or female lawyers with all their aristocratic claims to fame,
Media can’t criticize these appointment decisions,
Nothing can be changed and neither are there any revisions.
Dressed like sanctimonious priests in their red Santa Clause suits,
How do they come to their decisions and are they in cahoots?
No media or public questions and no one can cause a fuss,
Their decision that allowed abortions cannot be discussed.
July 1st,2011
poem by James Bredin
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Narrow Is This Kind of Mind
Narrow is this kind of mind,
Who 'assumes' its own behind...
Can be placed in one's view easily.
And observed to be significant,
When there is a hint of a sodom sleazed.
One is assumed to have done to please.
The only thing that is projected,
Are thoughts of neglected hygiene.
Filthy and unclean.
Especially if one's underwear...
Is prioritized and seen,
As an appealing 'asset'.
Appearing in public scenes.
If pants can slip and dropp quickly...
What respect is left to pride?
When none is obviously kept inside!
Can one expect to receive what's not accepted.
Especially when one condones self neglect.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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At The Expense Of Those Who Have Chosen To Deceive
An influence magnifies
By a deliberate undermining...
Of it noticed being diminished,
By those eventually become curious...
As to why restrictions has been placed upon it.
To allow with perceptions increased,
The misdeed done and not the influence achieved...
To get more of the attention than what is being mentioned.
And...
At the expense of those who have chosen to deceive.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I See Them On The Weekends
Who selected what you wear...
And helped you dress this morning?
'What kind of question is that?
I make those decisions myself! '
Who selected where you shop?
Dine and entertain your whims?
When you have them?
'What are you getting at?
Is there a point to be made here? '
Sooo...
You will agree,
If you are influenced to do anything...
It will be a choice you make?
'Sure...
Everyone does that.'
Then why are so many people,
Blaming others for their problems?
IF they are making their own decisions.
And where they are in life by choice!
'Well...
Some folks have legitimate gripes.'
I know!
I see them on the weekends,
Packing the malls...
And spreading their girth on the sidewalks.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Magnified Chrystal Balling
Boys play.
And in play...
A bravado is accepted.
And willfully on constant display.
With a show of fearlessness shown,
By the one selected and chosen to lead.
And that one accustomed to getting things done,
Has to express independence and confidence.
Sometimes at the risk of exposing a humanness.
And achieving less than those observing,
From the sidelines expect.
When doubts about direction begin to be expressed.
This upsets,
Those with victories to achieve on their breaths.
Tight lipped bravery is what arnchair warriors respect.
But emotions one dares to expose on one's sleeve,
Contradicts a magnified Chyrstal balling.
Appalling those wishing to see,
Confetti and cheering with smiles in magazines.
'Has he been up to the task,
Is all that matters.
Who amongst you have dug the ditches,
Or crawled through trenches...
To affect expectations? '
Boys play.
And in play...
A bravado is accepted.
And willfully on constant display.
With a show of fearlessness shown,
By the one selected and chosen to lead.
In play!
War...
Or in peace to keep unthreatened.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I'll Stay Your Favorite Dessert
I can count on you,
To follow my every move.
As if a stalking of the Sun,
Is being done.
And I am selected to be the one,
Exposed to your eyes...
When the dawn comes.
At high noon...
I feel you've chosen me to munch.
As if there to be your lunch,
To nourish.
And at Sunset,
There you are...
Encouraging me to be delicious.
And if it's your wish...
I'll stay your favorite dessert.
Craved anytime of the day.
It will be made available.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do Not Tell Me You Are Psychic
Why...
Are you exposing your 'butt',
In public?
'Did or did you 'not' say,
You wanted to see another side of me? '
I was referring to your personality.
'And...
What are you saying?
You find this side of me offensive? '
No!
But I do find what you are doing 'indecent'.
'To who?
Or whom?
Only you are looking.
Make up your mind.
Do you like this side of me or not?
How do you expect us,
To get to know one another...
If you are already showing signs of being indecisive.'
I think you have issues.
'Do not tell me you are psychic.
I wouldn't have done that at all,
If I knew that.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Never Be Permitted to Sit or Take a Sniff
Some are selected to see and digest.
While others believe,
They are here to correct what's on the menu.
To decide what they will be served next.
And if the taste is not to their liking,
They rally to hire a new cook.
With a loud protest.
Instead of accepting,
They are powerless to elect...
What has been chosen to be most effective.
And not debated,
To be inspected as wished...
By those who will never be permitted,
To sit or take a sniff in the kitchen!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Irritation Is Not The Best Feeling To Begin A Poem With
IRRITATION IS NOT THE BEST FEELING TO BEGIN A POEM WITH
Irritation is not the best Feeling to begin a poem with
But the great heat, the great humidity
The slowness of my mind on Motzei Shabbat
The many errands that must be done tomorrow
The inability to begin true work,
The news of another anti- Semitic utterance by the Nobel Prize winner Gunter Grass
Above all the worry over the health of a family member
All these irritate and disturb-
And I can at best write a few plain lines
Begin to work
To make myself feel better
But not really influence what is outside myself-
And too the irritation that my poem and my words
Will reach a few at best
While the mendacious former Waffen SS member's poem
Has already made its hateful way to headlines in the world-
Oh it is wonderful to be an obscure nothing in writing
When it is only my own name and reputation which are involved,
But when it means I cannot really help the people I care about
This irritation this frustration anger so-
Oh how I just pray that my loved one
Will be after the doctor's visit
Better tonight.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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We blame conveniently.
A stole from B.
Who is the culprit?
If it is A, why did B steal from C?
A theft occurred.
Who is the culprit?
The greed to get or
The greed to hoard.
A boy teased a girl.
Who is the culprit?
His thirst or her looks.
A tree fell down.
Who is the culprit?
The storm or the soil.
We fix the culprit conveniently.
11.06.2007.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Only Mental Memoirs Kept
There is going to be a clean sweep.
A complete overhaul...
Of present thinking,
By those who rode...
On a merry-go-round enjoyed.
But now has been stalled.
For certain conditions,
To be employed!
A total restructuring,
Of a thought process.
Coming soon to a mind near you.
And this,
All can expect!
Gone are the days,
Are those having their way.
With assumptions done...
Including less discipline,
To have a life full of fun!
A consciousness that will insist,
Everyone snaps awake.
And overnight this will seem,
To have taken place.
Attitudes about who will do what...
Will have few people,
Sitting on their butts!
With no 'buts' or 'ifs'...
Used for excuses to resist!
A total restructuring,
Of a thought process.
Coming soon to a mind near you.
And this,
All can expect!
No one will be asked to choose,
Whether or not they will participate.
With a hesitation to confuse.
What will be delivered,
No one can refuse.
No offer will be made...
To those in moods wishing to debate!
Those days are gone!
Only mental memoirs kept...
In private reminiscing.
During lunch breaks!
And assignments completed...
When one has finished,
Using their brooms, mops or rakes!
A conformity will be restored.
Not to be ignored.
Or out done.
By those holding onto pretensions.
To impress someone.
Who might care who they knew.
Or where they vacationed,
Under the Sun.
To bask and enhance healthy tans.
A consciousness that insists,
Everyone snaps awake.
And this will traumatize,
To bring many heartbreak!
Attitudes about who will do what...
Will have few people,
Sitting on their butts!
With noses turned up!
With no 'buts' or 'ifs'...
Used for excuses to resist!
A total restructuring,
Of a thought process.
Coming soon to a mind near you.
And this,
All can expect!
You can bet on that,
To happen next!
For all to socialize...
With sweat pouring down,
Their faces and necks!
'Hey you...
Yes you!
The 'intellectual'!
After you're through writing.
Or whatever it is you do.
Get back to your chores.
I don't want to have to repeat that...
Like I did before.'
With no 'buts' or 'ifs'...
Used for excuses to resist!
You can expect this...
To arrive at your door!
Persisting with wishes...
Will not be done anymore.
*Note of definition for 'memoir' as used in this context:
'...the record of the proceedings,
of a learned society...'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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