To Get What It Was to Do Done
It has been a long time since I had been a child.
Such a long time,
Those actions I did then...
Were tolerated and condoned by someone else,
Who I respected as an adult and it reflected.
Whether or not I accepted.
And from those who taught me,
The difference as I grew.
I knew when I matured...
So few did that too.
And while they now make excuses,
For everything that they do...
Or not.
Expecting to be dismissed...
Like children throwing tantrums,
And spoiled fits.
Upon others they drop.
To do flip flops...
With something childish,
They can not stop!
I wont put up with it!
No matter how 'old'...
These ageless 'kids' may get!
I'm not going to put up with none of that one bit.
I have learned to be accountable.
And responsibility for my actions...
I take.
I have learned to embrace,
Take hold and move on!
No matter who around me,
May hide or deny...
Any action I may make.
With a mind that is awake.
I might undo it.
But...
Whatever that decision is,
It is done by me to say...
'Something'
I had to do to get what it was to do done!
Whether those of childish minds are left stunned.
To get from point A to B does not require a Phd!
Or a pail and shovel to collect sand.
I have been taught not to be afraid to take a stand!
And...
Get it over to get over it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Becoming More Difficult To Achieve
When an immature mentality,
Becomes an accepted part of one's personality...
It stunts a growth process,
Observed in an environment...
Fed on the advantages of being irresponsible.
Where childish attitudes are fed and meant,
To circumvent adult behavior.
A behavior once accepted to respect,
But...
Becoming more difficult to achieve,
With not too many today willing to experience...
The affects of expressing a maturity,
From that point of view!
And 'who' but a few today...
Would admit to being 'that' accountable for their actions.
There is a difference in the doing of things,
Interpreted by others to be foolish.
And to know what is done.
Than to do childish things...
And have few notice,
That the age of the 'childish' doer...
Has no comprehension to mention.
And the fault is found to lay on the back,
Of one who 'portrays' to be a fool...
To fit into such a dysfunctional environment.
To be laughed at but has achieved...
Peace of mind others can't seem to find as accessible.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Results Of Any Choices Made
I've never found it acceptable,
How grown people still use their childhoods...
To make continued excuses for themselves.
With the seeing of psychologists, psychiatrists...
And others designated to be certified,
To professionally analyze their minds.
With a trying to get them to realize and find,
That a being held accountable with a clarity...
For one's own decisions made,
Is no longer the responsibility of mommy and daddy.
However...
Mommy and daddy should have been arrested...
A long time ago,
For permitting such spoiled children...
Access to beliefs,
They were entitled to point blame on others.
With a dismissing of strict discipline,
To ensure those now thoughtless knew the difference.
Mommy and daddy could be 'sentenced' for not doing this.
BUT...
Regardless of what should have taken place?
The results of any choices made are clearly to be,
What they are as seen from what has been selected...
To represent the best of efforts allowed and condoned.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Adolescent Deeds
Spoiled children encouraged,
To sit and witness their siblings...
Restricted from doing things,
They believe can be manipulated eventually...
Will make attempts to do anything.
If this means to them,
A getting of an attention given.
Believing with an 'innocence',
A 'cuteness' is determined.
But some children grow.
To leave behind their childishness.
With a learning not to disrespect.
Or expect child-like tantrums accepted,
Without someone rejecting their selfishness.
To then make claims of being neglected,
When left to be held accountable...
For actions that reflect,
Immaturity at its best.
And as aults who have aged,
These same 'children' become insulted.
When others too mature no longer will endure,
With a tolerance depleted and absent to feed...
Spoiled children encourage,
To perform adolescent deeds.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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WHO And WHAT Implemented This
How can anyone think or believe,
They could distance themselves...
From actions their own children take,
That provokes others with disrespect...
To then proclaim they are not responsible,
For those actions their children have learned...
From behind walls where they were first taught.
To then take those lessons beyond their own backyards?
With a doing done to create for others havoc!
Is the First Amendment that diverse?
WHO and WHAT,
Inspired with encouragement their transgressions?
With beliefs to violate others is okay?
And with rights that entitles them to do it their way.
From WHERE was this thoughtlessness generated?
WHO and WHAT implemented this in their minds,
To have those who should be accountable...
Find someone else to blame!
And with accusations that dismisses their teachings.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Never Accepted What Their Eyes Have Shown
Something in their heads,
Have them programmed to believe...
They should not respect themselves.
Or expect they can and could achieve.
Something missing in their heads,
Should have connected them to a maturity.
Something that recognized,
Who should be responsible...
And accountable for their activities.
Something in their minds,
Should have made eye contact with themselves.
Something said or they did not see...
A reflection of themselves yet!
One accepted and believed.
Something has left.
And will never return.
Something that should have been taught.
But for them,
Never to be learned!
And that is why they hide from themselves.
They dislike and despise what they see!
And they have never accepted,
What their eyes have shown!
They are afraid to be who they are.
Even alone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When She Played It Was On Her Piano
As a kid I had ambitions.
And the first of them was to do my chores,
Before my mother would come home from work.
And she would pack them on too!
'I told you to sweep this floor.'
I did!
'With what?
A sandwich?
Do it again.'
My sister, Mimmie, would look at me.
And smile!
I couldn't wait,
To give her the spray can...
To kill the roaches!
I didn't know we weren't suppose to have them,
Until I was eight years old!
And that's not a joke.
One day when my mother went to work,
I made sure Mimmie got introduced.
She's a grandmother now.
And every once in a while...
She will mention how mean I was to her.
Nobody is going to sit,
And enjoy me getting whipped!
And that has been my philosophy...
Learned very early in my life.
Those days are long gone.
And being assigned to responsibilites,
I believe every child needs.
However...
Too many parents have raised lazy and spoiled children.
Believing one day,
They will awaken and be accountable for their actions!
Today as I reflect on my childhood,
I am glad my mother did not allow me to go to sleep...
To chance an awakening to what I knew I should do.
What I had and was going to do got done,
Before I had an opportunity to give it thought.
Procrastination,
Was not a lesson my mother taught.
I've seen parents,
Do everything possible for their children.
To wonder at a later date in time,
Why their children disrespect them.
Even 'if' I looked as if I wanted to say something back,
My mother would put a 'switch' to my behind.
AND...
I would have to fine one she liked to use on me.
That was before the calling of 911.
Today...
They would call that child abuse.
When I grew up...
We got our 'butts' tore up.
Just for looking as 'if'...
We did not enjoy getting whippings!
And I aint hardly kidding.
How does that 'old' saying go?
~Spare the rod and spoil the child.~
Well...
Mimmie and I were very spoiled.
But...
A rocking of a boat,
Did not float at all...
With Ms Edna!
When she played,
It was on her piano!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Older They Grow But Not Up
Older they grow,
But not up!
Many never experience a maturity.
Raised on entertaining limited thoughts.
And few have abilities,
To comprehend little of what they read.
Or take the responsibility,
To hold themselves accountable...
For actions begun and those they leave.
Older they grow,
But not up!
And demands they make,
To satisfy their spoiled ways.
Since no one around them wants to hear them fuss.
Realizing not one of those fussers who also cuss,
Wants to take a position,
To make a decisive decision.
Since accusations are prioritized in their lives lived,
As a must.
And expectations are less for them.
For those exposed to them growing older...
Knowing these minds have no time left.
For them to show a growing up,
With a thoughtfulness.
Older they may grow...
But for them it sure is not up!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Matter Of Decision
Id be home free if I could make up my mind,
What to do about you.
One minute I think I love you, the next Im playing the fool.
Youre such a part of me, cant tear myself away from you.
Dont care what people say, I just wanna be close.
Ive changed my mind a thousand times,
Now its a case of do or die.
Theres no more time to reason why.
Now its a matter of decision,
Why cant I make up my mind?
I cant stand this indecision,
Im going out of my mind.
The world is in such a sorry state.
In the papers, in the news.
Politicians cant see their hands from their feet,
Nobody cares about the truth.
Wish I could make the world a better place for you and me.
You always run and hide, I only wanna be close.
The teachers stuff your head with lies,
And make it hard to realize,
Whats going on, whats wrong, whats right.
Well, its a matter of decision,
We all must make a stand,
For everything that we believe in,
Every woman, every man.
Its a matter of decision.
A matter of decision, a matter of decision.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Clear Karmic Debt
Some people use the phrase Born Again
to justify their actions
before their mean action begins.
They can justify actions like never before
but their mean actions can't be ignored.
For every action there is karma at stake
you will experience the same experience
likewise which you did create.
Everyone is accountable for their actions
no matter how small—
if you transgressed and hurt another
send them blessing least of all.
Or say your "Sorry" and give them a hug
it doesn't matter if you are not a thug.
So clear your karmic debt—
rethink through your actions
to live with no future regrets.
Written by Christina Sunrise on July 14,2012
www.christinapoems.com www.christinasunrise.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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It Wont Be Long
(words & music by wayne - weisman)
The shooting stars are coming out of your eyes
They point the way, the way to paradise
I got a funny feeling, I cant be wrong
It wont be long until the sparks will fly
It wont be long
I hear a buzz, buzz around in my brain
But what it does, is bound to drive me insane
At a time like this I must be strong
It wont be long till the sky falls down
It wont be long
Love has taught me plenty, Im still learning more
Anything worth having is worth the waiting for
Here I go, Im on a one way trip
Look out below because Im about to flip
I tell you when these lips get to that kiss
It wont be long until were out of this world
It wont be long
Love has taught me plenty, Im still learning more
Anything worth having is worth the waiting for
Here I go, Im on a one way trip
Look out below because Im about to flip
I tell you when these lips get to that kiss
It wont be long, it wont be long until were out of this world
It wont be long
It wont be long, it wont be long until were out of this world
It wont be long
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Did It Happen When I Stopped Complaining?
Somewhere along my journey,
I grew up.
I became both accountable
And took responsibility for my actions.
There were many along the way,
Who could not keep up the pace.
Somehow as I aged...
I held onto my faith,
With a painful self assessment I learned to face.
Saw my flaws and accepted them.
And not an excuse do I make.
It's too late for that now anyway.
That's why I am pleased to be the me I am.
I know the meaning of forgiveness and sacrifice.
And those realities have led me to my growth!
Somewhere along my journey,
I grew up.
I knew I would become a victim of confusion and stress.
I'm even impressed!
When did I wisen up...
To take my life with such seriousness?
Somewhere along my journey,
I grew up.
Did it happen when I stopped complaining?
Did I refuse to change the rules in the middle of the game?
Or did the violation of those rules,
I simply refused to change.
Knowing how to better play the game?
Either way...
Somewhere along my journey,
I grew up.
And pleased to be the me I am.
Still a work in process!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Those of Childish Minds
Those of childish minds,
I had to sever and leave behind.
They no longer fed my views of life.
I had been hatched from adolescence,
Many years ago...
With an expanding insight.
Rehashing redundant deeds done I did...
I could no longer validate,
Those actions of adults that reminded me of kids!
I began to feel imprisoned,
By this useless activity for me I could not envision.
That began to smother my mental growth...
And its clarity,
Beginning to feel remote and provoked.
I had to sever and leave behind,
Those of childish minds.
They found routine attractive to them.
And within me routine was not meant to be.
I am an adult!
And others who are...
Is a rare find today by far.
Leaving me to wonder,
As my aging process flows...
How gracefully can those grow old?
And where do those of childish minds go,
When an age upon them obviously shows!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Casting One's Own Shadow
Call your trip whatever you wish.
I've learned not to debate, argue...
Or 'franchise' anyone's opinion,
As if to make mine!
Nor do I agree to evaluate...
Someone's statement,
Whether a line given to solicit...
An opinion I've given in anything I've written.
I've learned an exchange of experiences,
Is not a possibility.
And I've learned this by listening.
And this many people seldom do.
I've been up and down too many times,
To discover my own comprehension...
About life.
My life and how 'my' life is connected.
When I found criticisms made of me by others...
'Added' to my understanding,
If right, wrong or indifferent when given...
I still had to brush my own teeth.
Walk on my own two feet!
And be accountable for my own actions.
I stopped making excuses,
When they began not to make sense to me.
I spent more time defending myself...
Instead of living my life.
And I began to do that...
When I started to appreciate myself.
And 'if' I was to give my advice to anyone...
AND...
I did say 'if'.
I would say this...
If anyone finds they are seeking acceptance,
On a path they have chosen to take...
It is not a path they have chosen.
How can it be?
How can someone declare something theirs,
When others can do the same thing thing?
If voices can be heard?
Footprints can be seen?
And the path one takes has already been paved?
That is following...
Not casting,
One's own shadow!
I do not wish,
I demand people to get out of my light.
What would be the point,
If I am patiently waiting for someone else to decide...
Whether or not they want to move out of it?
That kind of time I am not giving to anyone!
Period.
I've learned many lessons.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Everytime I See This In Others
Every time,
And I've noticed this.
Since you are the lesson taught,
I see in myself.
Everytime.
Every time,
There is an obstacle presented...
For you to overcome,
There you are looking...
For an easy way to go around it.
Instead of confronting it head on,
On a journey meant for you to undo them.
But stubbornly you don't want to do it.
You want to sit and make excuses.
Hoping someone will come along,
To convince you have been victimized...
By someone who wants to see you punished.
And of this you are right.
You are the biggest self abuser you have in your life.
Every time,
And I've noticed this.
Since you are the lesson taught,
I see in myself.
Everytime.
And everytime I see this in others,
I am immediately reminded of myself.
And so blessed I am to recognize it.
Everytime I see how much I have learned.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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(Murder Poem) Shades Of Black
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
I was abandon as a child.
I'm alone as a man.
The goodness of the damned.
Oh how I wish I had a plan.
Something set in stone.
With many regrets I walk this life feeling like a reject.
A failure all on my own.
I don't need no help from you never did.
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
Their is poison in the water.
Their is treachery afoot.
Oh Oh just come look.
The blood has been spilt and they have no clue I did it you.
I don't even care if they did.
I'll take as many I can.
When everything has gone so wrong.
Sitting staring out the window with a revolver in you in hand.
What choices are left?
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
A nightmare of solutions unfold.
Each bloody as the next.
How can you ever truly live with it.
Settling for only second best.
The black knight ego's of arrogance.
Tunnel vision fills his eyes.
All he's after is the prize.
I doesn't matter who gets hurt on his way to it.
With deliverance I give you pain.
A message from someone who truly insane.
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
And it is time for my greatest attack.
As if anyone should be proud of such a thing.
The sweat pours off my brow as I become the butcher of butchers.
A dissection of a living to dead body.
Someone help this man, oh please anybody.
The urges to kill won't stop.
They are all hes got.
Taking out all his sexual frustrations.
These escalation will only continue.
They will not just die.
Or move on to a paradise behind the next dawn.
No matter how hard I try.
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
I feel nothing no more.
I don't know why.
I wish I could fix myself tonight.
I wish I could embrace love once again.
But wishes are nothing but useless thoughts.
The futility of the evil creature I am.
Hated by everyone.
So foul have I become.
A disease that can never be done.
Just kill me now.
To save so many.
Promise me, make your vow.
Cause I won't go down quietly.
I fight it for as long I can.
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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You Cant Make It Love
By michael mcdonald and john scott sherrill
You if anyone should know what time will tell
Not so long ago you taught me oh so well
Now your time has come
Someone took your place
(theres) no need to tell me that hes gone (cause)
I can read it on your face
Chorus:
You learned that you could dream every night
You can try all you like
You can pray every day that its enough
You can hope all you want
Its something to hang your faith on
But you cant make it love
Theres no way love can grow
If only one is true
I would think that you should know
After all, I learned this from you
No matter how much ones in love
As long as one is lying
There aint no amount of tears
There aint no amount of trying
Chorus:
You learned that you could dream every night
You can try all you like
You can pray every day that its enough
You can hope all you want
Its something to hang your faith on
But you cant make it love
song performed by by Michael Mcdonald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Isn't That The Reason
Why should you undo what has been done?
And if you could...
Why would you?
Who learned from the experience?
Did the process make any sense?
And if it did not...
A thought upon a mind was dropped,
To be not forgotten!
And isn't that the reason,
Someone had to do something?
If it had not been you...
Would you have been left wishing,
For more or less understanding?
And who would be there to fully comprehend?
As long as the action was taken...
Let time clarify the motive.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Like It Or Not
Ah, dont you know, Ive been on my own
But Im coming home.
And Id like you to be there,
I feel a little cold in the air,
And youre not anywhere.
Youre just another face, I used to know.
But there is still a chance to hold on to our love,
cos I gave you everything, everything I had.
Ooh, like it or not
You have done it this time
And like it or not, Ive had enough.
Ooh, like it or not
Theres a lot I could say
cos Ive got a lot on my mind.
It wont be very long
Youre just another face
That I once used to know
And I gave you everything,
But what have I got to show? oh oh
Oh, like it or not
You are out on the street
And like it or not
Thats where you will stay.
Oh, like it or not
Theres another thing darling,
Well I just could not stand another day
cos if you want to know,
That there is still a chance to hold on to our love
cos I gave you everything
Everything I had - everything I had.
Its been a long, been a long long time
Since I held anybody, since I loved anyone.
Oh its been a long, been a long long long time
But if Im right or if Im wrong, does it matter anyway?
Its been a long long long long time
Since I held anybody, since I loved anyone.
Ooh its been a long long long long time
But if Im right or if Im wrong, does it matter anyway?
Ooh its been a long long long long time
Since I held anybody, since I loved anyone.
Oh its been a long, been a long long long time
Im right, if Im wrong, does it matter anyway?
Its been a long long, long long long time
Since I held anybody, since I held anyone.
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mentor
The mentor, from what I can remember,
Was a man who aided me always,
He taught me to think,
To imagine everything I knew.
He taught me to be inspired,
And to work with every clue.
He helped me set goals,
In which he knew was best,
And, he always loved me,
Even when he put me to the test.
He guided me always,
Always with a lending hand,
He knew what was good,
That he could help me stand.
My mentor was a good man,
He always knew what was right,
He never gave up on me,
For he knew that I was bright.
He guided me to today,
To where I am right now,
He knew that I could be anything,
And he didn't have to explain how.
He gave me courage and strength
And confidence,
He knew that with every pace,
That fidelity was significance.
He advised me in my actions,
So that I could grow up strong,
He helped me with everything,
So I could move along.
I am grateful he was there for me,
No matter what the cost,
I am glad he was loving, also,
So that I was not lost.
poem by James Roberts
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Don't Expect An Apology
I have not been a child for so long.
So if my offensive demeanor,
Comes from an adult mind...
Free to express itself from a hiding,
You have yet dealt with.
Don't be stunned.
Or run away in tears!
With a nose you sniff.
Perhaps you should leave the playground,
Of scraped knees, sandboxes
And petty childish gossip.
I have not been a child for so long.
My adventures have been aged on paths...
That have shown me a life,
To live as it is!
And to find myself alone,
Being accountable for my steps!
Sometimes I have experienced regret.
But like all things I have accepted...
I am blessed not to stay in one spot,
To complain of rain that got me wet!
Nor do I get upset...
If thunder, lightening and clouds,
Are temporarily above my head!
I have felt sunshine too many times...
To find a moment of whining as a means,
That have ever attracted my happiness!
A maturity with learning,
Has come to me it seems!
So if my offensive demeanor,
Comes from an adult mind...
Free to express itself from a hiding,
You have yet dealt with?
Don't expect an apology.
I only give those when they are meant!
And I feel that one should be given.
And 'that' no one else gives to me,
To determine!
I'm in this life to live it!
Not to split from it...
When my feelings are hurt!
Or to dig up dirt to spread.
Don't expect an apology!
You 'aint' gettin' one of those.
Not from me!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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