We All Are Victims
To confront anyone,
Who has lived their entire life...
Based upon delusions fed with lies,
Is like trying to convince...
Someone who has lived as a hermit,
That they have just been selected...
To receive an award for being the most congenial,
By those who have found their social attributes...
To be undeniably refreshing.
And somehow this embellished exaggeration,
Is not considered a joke as much as it is a threat.
It then becomes best,
To leave one alone in their own comfort zone.
Since few people will accept,
A reality that does not connect...
To what they know or has not to them been shown.
Without an experience of it being known.
We all are victims of some enforced limitation.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Has Been Denied
One of the main reasons,
People don't know who they are...
Or can respect others to accept,
Is their approach to life.
And a valued place on false pretensions.
People have been made to believe,
And are convinced...
That reality is to be pretended,
And the more pretentious they are...
The more they reflect a 'version' of reality.
Blindly accepted.
And...
Those who are themselves,
And have lived reality...
From an experiencing of it,
Are perceived as being phony.
Although everything they have done...
Is based upon truth as it is,
And have attempted to deliver it.
But are criticized for being nonconformists.
One of the main reasons,
People don't know who they are...
Or can respect others to accept,
Is their approach to life.
One is taught how to live,
And how to act.
What beliefs to accept,
From those created...
And followed 'faithfully'.
And those who live not accepting,
Those beliefs to follow 'faithfully'...
Seem to live freer lives,
Without having lies to follow.
'Why is there so much conflict in the world.
Why are so many people unhappy? '
That's a good question.
And they are the ones who follow,
Taught beliefs.
Without seeking to live life,
To discover it on their own.
They follow and protest yet accept.
'But,
How can you say that? '
I've learned to stand back,
And observe that which has been denied.
My eyes have been open most of my life,
To see things as they are.
Not what I wish them to be.
With eyes open wide.
And apparently my 'version' has offered me,
A more peaceful co-existence.
And that for me is not phony at all.
I only have one face that I've shown.
Have you ever seen me wearing a mask?
To appease others doing it?
'No.'
You should take yours off.
You'll see exactly what I mean.
When you begin to experience life,
So many become offended.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We All Come To Experience 'Our' Truths
We all come to experience 'our' truths.
We all come to experience,
Realities lived others may not accept.
Or come to believe,
If they are not there to witness.
Or see as they sit to observe life pass by,
From a closed window and behind locked doors.
We all experience our own sorrows...
With burdens to bear and struggles to conquer.
And yet there will be some among the 'doubters'...
Who believe nothing happens to anyone but themselves.
And when they experience a pinch of pain to feel,
It becomes worthy of a news broadcast...
To appeal with the getting of attention on their griefs.
We all come to experience 'our' truths.
We all come to experience,
Realities lived others may not accept.
Or come to believe,
If they are not there to witness.
And yet...
Highlighted are the most ridiculous afflictions,
Repeatedly for all to witness close up on TV sets.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It's Mine to Own
Just give me my prize!
For a life lived...
Both bold and wise.
Just give me my prize!
Un-itemized it.
It's mine to own.
Just give me my prize.
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
Inside...
I connect it.
Now I can accept.
Those feelings I cried...
With heartache.
Deep in my chest!
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
Just give me my prize!
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
Inside...
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
Those feelings I cried...
With heartache.
Deep in my chest!
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
Just give me my prize!
Un-itemized it.
It's mine to own.
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
It's mine to own.
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
It's mine to own.
Just,
Give me my prize I accept it.
It's mine to own.
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
My own.
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
My own.
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
My own.
Just give me my prize,
I accept it.
It's mine alone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Life Alone
How does one justify a life lived alone
How does one love if they have never been shown
A life lived alone is a life lived in vain
A life lived alone has very little to gain
Why would anyone choose to live this way
Why would anyone choose to be alone everyday
Is it living alone a shy reality to blame
Is it living alone yet another of societys shame
I stand here alone with a tear in my eye
I stand here alone and wish to understand why.
'closing thought'
A singles life can have its moments of pleasure
But a family life is filled with memories to treasure
poem by Gordon Jerome
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Understood To Exclude Them From Truths
When one gets too accustomed,
To embellishing what they've done...
Partial truths are told.
To bestow as shown to everyone.
Quick to betray,
If their insecurities are threatened.
But yet to display,
Are their excuses made with few exceptions.
Associations with people like this,
Over time decreases in respect.
Explanations of their neglect...
Eventually from them some should expect.
When one gets too accustomed,
To embellishing what they've done...
Partial truths are told.
To bestow as shown to everyone.
Maturity is dismissed,
In the minds of people with this addiction.
And it is unfortunate they allow themselves...
To be chased away by delusions.
With a praying done their delusions will stay,
To be understood to exclude them...
From truths they painfully detest.
And hate to face from day to day.
As a life lived in reality eventually fades.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why Can't We Accept This
Let's raise our conscious levels up,
From dusty covered ruts.
Why can't we accept,
Times lived..
Have gone bye-bye!
To leave behind those tears,
Dripping from red eyes.
Why can't we accept this.
To forgive and forget!
And,
Why can't we accept...
A happiness without regrets.
Why can't we accept...
A happiness without regrets.
Why can't we accept this,
To forgive and forget!
Why can't we accept,
Times lived..
Have gone bye-bye!
To leave behind those tears,
Dripping from red eyes.
Why can't we accept this,
To forgive and forget!
And,
Why can't we accept...
A happiness without regrets.
Why can't we accept this...
And dry those tears we cry.
Why can't we accept,
Times lived..
Have gone bye-bye!
Why can't we accept this,
To forgive and forget!
And,
Why can't we accept...
A happiness without regrets.
Why can't we accept this!
Why are we so disconnected.
Why can't we accept this!
Why are we so,
Misdirected.
Why can't we accept this!
Why are we so disconnected.
Why can't we accept this!
Why are we so misdirected.
Does heightened violence increase peace?
Where has that been shown effective.
When a violence from one leaves,
People then feel free to breathe.
Does heightened violence increase peace?
Where has that been shown effective.
When a violence from one leaves,
People then feel free to breathe.
Why are we so misdirected.
Nobody feels free to breathe.
Why are we so misdirected.
Nobody feels free to breathe.
Why can't we accept this!
Why are we so disconnected.
Why can't we accept this!
Why are we so misdirected.
Why can't we accept this.
Why can't we accept it...
We have been so disconnected.
And misdirected.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No Life Is Right Until Lived
When the thrill of living my life has quieted to end,
I will not be discovered procrastinating with any fears.
Or recovering from regrets,
Of not facing challenges to overcome when first met.
Nor is my life in any position for anyone to place bets.
Although I may choose to take those risks 'I' accept.
I am a work-in-progress taking forward not backward steps.
I live a life lived unafraid to make mistakes.
And those monitoring perfection based upon etiquette,
Are powerless to suggest what my identity should be to please.
Since this life I live is 'my' experience without boundaries.
And I will dream to adventure and explore to make known.
No life is right until lived as one decides it.
With...
Or without,
Judgements heard that are passed.
With...
Or without,
Judgements heard that are passed...
No life is right until lived as one decides it.
No life is right until lived as one decides it.
And...
As one decides what life is right for them to live,
Who can demonstrate what perfection is?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Embellish A Nonexistence Has Adverse Effects
Ego fed insecurities,
Addicted to seeking acceptance...
Are protective of their delusions.
And easily offended,
By a truth that is to them directed.
It is more important for them to impress,
Than to honestly address their own issues.
Something blocked in their minds,
Will not allow them to do this.
And quick they are to misinterpret reality.
They believe reality is something to twist to fit,
A determined wish to see,
Life from their prespective.
And only a life lived to experience as is,
Can be received to accept to adjust...
Not correct to reject what is presented!
Ego fed insecurities,
Addicted to seeking acceptance...
Are protective of their delusions.
And easily offended,
By a truth that is to them directed.
To embellish a nonexistence,
Has adverse effects.
And adverse effects are difficult to keep,
From being exposed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One Has Standards to Maintain
Are you a joke?
Or is this an inappropriate time,
For your life to be lived.
And your dreams of securing a house,
With a white picket fence...
Seems too rich in delusion.
And undernourished.
Lacking in an acceptance of reality.
And you laugh at 'me' and my perceptions,
Quick.
One of us desires for yesterday to make a comeback.
And the other refuses to accept anything from yesterday,
At all.
Including those delusions,
Assembled for a fast marketing of trash repackaged.
One has standards to maintain.
The other?
Has a sanity to protect.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Reality TV
What has all of life been reduced to?
A hyping of a joke promoted,
To be taken seriously.
And the provoking of this one joke,
Sold to be closely monitored...
On reality TV.
To leave anyone with any credibility,
Suspected as not being truly...
A natural born citizen,
If that person has a hint of sensibility.
And this creation becomes satiated,
As a taste of life...
The way it is lived and should be!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Two Hermits
Upon a lonely mountain, there lived two hermits who worshipped God
and loved one another.
Now these two hermits had one earthen bowl, and this was their only
possession.
One day an evil spirit entered into the heart of the older hermit
and he came to the younger and said, 'It is long that we have
lived together. The time has come for us to part. Let us divide
our possessions.'
Then the younger hermit was saddened and he said, 'It grieves
me, Brother, that thou shouldst leave me. But if thou must needs
go, so be it,' and he brought the earthen bowl and gave it to him
saying, 'We cannot divide it, Brother, let it be thine.'
Then the older hermit said, 'Charity I will not accept. I will
take nothing but mine own. It must be divided.'
And the younger one said, 'If the bowl be broken, of what use would
it be to thee or to me? If it be thy pleasure let us rather cast
a lot.'
But the older hermit said again, 'I will have but justice and mine
own, and I will not trust justice and mine own to vain chance. The
bowl must be divided.'
Then the younger hermit could reason no further and he said, 'If
it be indeed thy will, and if even so thou wouldst have it let us
now break the bowl.'
But the face of the older hermit grew exceedingly dark, and he
cried, 'O thou cursed coward, thou wouldst not fight.'
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Out of Their Comfort Zones They Are Thrown
People are too accepting,
Of their learned and enforced perceptions.
Envisoned with fixed images in their minds.
Like men aren't expected to cook or do chores.
Or women who look feminine,
Shock others who see them box in rings.
Or play basketball with hook shots,
To achieve high scores.
Men who sing and write,
Are expected to be limp of wrist.
While those who appear to be 'supermen'
Stop traffic when seen,
Holding hands to then kiss.
And women who wear lipstick,
Are often approached by men...
For sex and overnight 'flings'.
When they announce they are lesbians...
'Homophobics' do not begin,
To rejoice and sing.
People are too accepting,
Of their learned and enforced perceptions.
When out of their comfort zones they are thrown...
Those who are not like them,
Are condemned to be sinners!
As if a wholesomeness can not be lived...
Unless pretensions are embellished,
And mentioned to impress...
Over again and again.
With a 'normalcy' perceived...
That does not threaten what is believed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Cause and The Defect
Angry?
Why?
Your delusions denied the truth.
With a booting done,
Of those you gossiped were disgruntled.
And were against your standards lived!
Angry?
Why?
You chose to accept the lies in your life,
As they are.
You campaigned to keep things the same,
And unchanged.
With a resisting quick of any reality mentioned.
Angry?
Why?
Those attempts tried to awaken you,
Led to arguments and lives disrespected and slandered.
If you are angry...
Be mad at yourself.
Look in the mirror at your reflection,
And begin to curse!
You have been the problem.
The cause and the defect!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Herbie The Hermit
Herbie the hermit lived alone
because he felt he needed no one.
He lived his life meagrely
and saved his money frugally.
As the money grew in his bank account,
he began to wonder whom was he going to leave his money to.
Each day the question plagued him
and no answer came his way.
Then one day he met someone
who was much poorer than he.
He lived on the streets, as it was the only life he knew.
He would give his money to him.
However, the man did not want his money,
explaining that he had many friends
worth more than his money could buy.
They are there for me
when I’m down and blue,
picking me up again,
which is more than your money can do.
9-12 December 2010
poem by David Harris
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Regression Is the Term
Recession?
How about complete retreat,
From telling lies and deception?
Truth?
There is nothing like it!
However...
How is that introduced?
When none of that has ever been exposed!
Who will believe it?
When minds have been overdosed,
And eyes once shown...
Prefer to stay shut and closed!
Recession?
When something has been squeezed,
With nothing else from it to be released?
Regression is the term,
With a valued lesson from it to be learned.
And a life once lived to feed one's greed...
Shall never back to that kind of life
Will one return!
And that has been the diagnosis!
Accept it or not!
Delusions will still remain the choice,
If one should decide on getting a second opinion!
Or a third.
Or perhaps a fourth!
The truth comes without options.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Where The Problem Is
There use to be a time,
When people passed off anything...
And found it acceptable.
Today those same people,
Who found anything and everything done acceptable...
Are seeking explanations amongst themselves,
As to why those they have selected to represent them...
Seem less qualified to audition for characters portrayed,
In any nursery rhymes they have ever told to their children.
And...
The ones who are trying to snap them 'into' reality,
Can not say it loud enough...
That everything that has been sweetened to eat,
And given to them to nourish...
Has had damaging effects,
On the maintaining of their mental health.
Yet...
STILL they wish to keep the same story lines told,
But they wish to have the ones telling those nursery rhymes...
To depict the exact images in their minds,
That have never existed.
Although they seek 'anyone' besides those who are truthful,
To deliver the goods.
With a comfort for them that is understood.
There use to be a time,
When people passed off anything...
And found it acceptable.
But these times lived can no longer depend on myths.
People are challenged to be real with themselves.
And that's where the problem is.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Am I Trying To Convince You I Am Happy?
You have a need to convince me,
Your way of life lived is right.
Why can't you just leave me alone?
Am I trying to convince you I am happy?
What part of goodbye do you need defined?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Are Those Who Try Hard To Convince
Someone living a life lived,
With a lesser experience...
Could not assess with a depth that qualifies,
A probing of one's life spent...
Being challenged and unafraid to become diversified.
Even though there are those who 'try' hard to convince,
They are the creators of intelligence.
And market common sense...
Whenever someone happens to accidentally visit,
The exclusiveness of their comfort zones.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Leaders Of The Neighborhood
Why didn't they move on?
Accept reality for what it is.
Instead of paying ridiculous amounts of money,
To have their own homes torn down?
'Someone came around a few years ago,
With a plan to convince them...
If they threatened to do this,
The people would get the hint...
And beg them to stay.
To do whatever they wished in the neighborhood.'
Well...
Hopefully they have learned a lesson.
'Apparently not from what is being observed.
Because those very same people,
Have organized themselves.
To protest the others...
Until they are welcomed back.'
That is nonsense.
It is obvious the people,
Were delighted they did that.
'Nonsense?
That's crazy!
Now they are petitioning the local government,
And have begun an advertising campaign...
To enforce the people into believing,
Without their influence as leaders...
The entire neighborhood,
Would be a place no one would desire to live.'
It is amazing what people will do,
To inflict their delusions on others.
'I'm glad you said that.
But today?
Many more are seeing,
Who has been initiating the conflicts.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Working At The Factory
All my life I've been a workin' man
When I was at school they said that's all you'll ever understand
No profession. I didn't figure in their plans
So they sent me down factory to be a workin' man
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
Now I'm here seemingly free, but working at the factory.
The music came along and gave new life to me
And gave me hope back in 1983
The music came and set me free
From working at the factory
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
Never wanted to be like everybody else
But now there are so many like me sitting on the shelf
They sold us a dream but in reality
It was just another factory
I made the music , thought that was mine
It made me free , but that was in another time
But then the corporations and the big combines
Turned musicians into factory workers on assembly lines.
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
We made the music to set ourselves free
From working at the factory.
All my life I've put in a working day
Now it's sign the contract. Get production on the way
Take the money, make the music pay
Working at the factory
All I lived for was to get out of the factory.
Never wanted to be like everybody else
But now there are so many like me sitting on the shelf
They sold us a dream but in reality
Was just another factory
Working at the factory.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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