Wearing Top Hats And Telling Long Tales
Lives lived based upon lies,
And who buys them to defend...
Leads to lives lived confused.
And believers deceived,
Eventually turning on themselves.
Making their appearances,
In those 'high' places when they do this...
Publicly.
With an astonishment unbelieved,
To those who witness this...
As if seeing rabbits being pulled,
From gift wrapped boxes,
Wearing top hats and telling long tales.
While a listening to puppets reading lines,
To convince anyone paying attention...
Better times are coming.
As soon as they can get better writers,
To compose an updating of times that do not exist.
'What is this going on? '
I have no idea.
I thought is was going to be a debating of issues.
This...
Is clearly some sick stuff.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If These Times Lived Did Not Exist
May these times lived,
Be those times we now live in...
With the acknowledgement,
That if these times lived did not exist...
There would be no other times like these,
Experienced to say...
They have come to us to be witnessed,
Like this.
To enjoy to disagree in argument.
Or observe the necessity of conflict.
If these times for us lived did not exist...
How many can honestly say,
They awaken each day prepared to resist...
Such a majestic blessing many do not appreciate.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Innuendoed to Convince
Fear not being completely honest,
In an atmosphere reeking of deceit.
You...
Of those wholesome sensibilities!
Eventually your intergrity will be identified.
And those who lived their lives mystified by lies...
Will discover their decay.
Deluded and fantasized.
Teased by sweets and compromised.
But has delivered no long lasting peace.
With wishes they had turned away,
From a hollowness enjoyed each day.
Sought on a daily basis.
Preferring a more solid existence employed.
At least one less pretensed.
Or one wished had been less annoying!
And lived to prevent from being destroyed.
By threats of terrorists or homophobic racists!
Since one day they will come to realize,
Their own lives lived...
For them nearing the end,
Has made no sense to defend.
With a rumored conscious intention.
Innuendoed to convince,
A fulfillment of some kind has taken place.
Even at the expense,
Of their sheltered and isolated misunderstandings.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It is Inevitable
Accepted or not.
Deceived or manipulated,
To replace it with dishonesty.
Truth.
When it is revealed,
Can no longer be concealed.
Or interpreted for something it is not.
And regretting not to have embraced it,
When that opportunity comes.
To have it faced,
Does not change the integrity of those
Who have known and lived the truth.
When opposition displays its evil.
Although,
Those who have based their lives.
On lies told as they lived,
Are the ones haunted by their misdeeds.
Observed as seen.
Leaving truth shown to be spoken and known,
Eventually winning all battles!
It is inevitable that an evil is chased away.
Once the masquerading of it has been exposed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Declining Forgiveness
We must help those whose lives,
Are stuck in an unchanged past.
It is difficult for them to accept,
The times now out of their grasp.
With embellished insecurities...
Of memories flourished now gone.
Their mentalities are witnessed to be diminishing quick.
And within themselves,
They can not admit...
These times lived today,
Will not continue to permit...
An attention given,
To such stubbornly held sickness...
They have become riddled and sit with!
We must help those whose lives,
Are stuck in an unchanged past.
It is difficult for them to accept,
The times now out of their grasp.
The challenges ahead requires a collective focus,
That has to exist!
To be drained emotionally by someone misfit...
Detaches an empathy!
With a declining forgiveness,
Decaying with it!
And a healing affect,
Will for all go neglected
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Holding Onto The Reins
Easy it becomes to discredit and despise,
A thought process from one that is done.
If the process is committed to reveal outcomes.
And if those outcomes stated,
Become a cause for others to debate...
With a seeking of a way,
To label those statements created...
Crazed.
And initiated by someone who is inebriated.
Exhilarated by an addiction of ego.
Only time will find the ones debating,
With nothing left to say.
Observations deliberatedly overlooked...
Often haunts,
The status quo with a dismay that daunts.
A way of life assumed to be lived...
Rarely escapes from becoming outdated.
And if not lived on a daily basis,
Offends those attempting to keep it unchanged.
And the ones who have chosen to acknowledge this,
Seem not to defend a lack of acceptance.
Since there is no apparent reason to prove an intoxication.
Knowing how difficult it is to convince,
Those accustomed to riding in horse drawn carriages...
There can be a smoother ride had by all,
By an updating of their vehicles now pulled by engines.
To roll upon air inflated tires.
Many electrified and others simply using the adding of gas.
Some have their grasp on the past so tight,
They keep beliefs with wishes kept...
That those who wish to usher them into the light,
Are those too jealous to admit they are envious...
Of those holding onto the reins of the horses they guide.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cutting Edge
As long as my work is edited...
To ensure by those who censor,
I say nothing to offend anyone...
They may believe is totally oblivious,
To a reality that affects...
Their pretentiously kept delusions,
They will meet and decide by voting...
If my written submissions as described,
Should be considerd...
Cutting edge!
And that determines...
Who amongst them have actually,
Spent anytime outside and beyond...
Their own comfort zones.
Many do not travel too far,
To ensure an innocence represented..
Thrives to keep some minds stunted.
Even though the majority of the people,
Have long been forced to do so...
With an eviction from these zones,
For most of their lives.
And find that a censorship...
Athough at these times lived ridiculous,
Should be applied to an acceptance...
Of a decadence that is marketed successfully!
But, of course...
That is a reflection of their lives as lived,
Valued as standards they publicly deny.
Yes it is hypocritical...
However,
It is what it is!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Something In The Air
Your coat and hat are gone
Ive really cant look at your little empty shelf
A ragged teddy bear
It feels like we never had a chance
Dont look me in the eye
We lay in each others arms
But the room is just an empty space
I guess weve lived it out
Something in the air
We smiled to fast then cant think of a thing to say
Lived with the best times
Left with the worst
Ive danced with you too long
Nothing left to save
Lets take what we can
I know you hold your head up high
Weve raced for the last time
A place of no return
And theres is something in the air
Something in my eye
Ive dance with you too long (yeah)
Something in the air
Something in my eye
Abracadoo, I loose you
We cant avoid the clash
The big mistake
Now were gonna pay and pay
The sentence of our lives
Cant believe Im asking you to go
We used what we could
To get the things we want
But we lost each other on the way
I guess you know I never wanted anyone more than you
Lived all our best times
Left with the worst
Ive danced with you to long
Say what you will
Theres something in the air
Raced for the last time
Well I know youll hold your head up high
But its nothing we have to say
Theres nothing in our eyes
But theres something in the air
Something in my eye
Ive danced with you too long
Theres something I have to say
Theres something in the air
Something in my eye
Do do do do
Do do do do
Ive danced with you too long
Do do do do
Do do do do
Danced with you too long
Do do
Danced with you too long
Something in the air
Something in the air
Do do do do
Do do do do
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Increasingly Addicted
Cultural and self hate issues,
Will remain to stay...
For those unable to face them to correct.
With a choosing to view them not as foolish,
But choices made embedded forever to accept.
And people living where hate crimes exist,
Have been fed with beliefs what is done is moralistic.
With a hoping that a praying of truths away...
Will someday validate their animalistic ways.
Many are embarrassed by realities.
Believing themselves immuned...
From truth obvious and seen.
Too many have been taught truth demeans.
And many are rooted in concepts held,
That if a telling of a lie is kept long enough...
Their denials will rise to heights.
And facts that exist will vanish from their eyes.
Cultural and self hate issues,
Will remain to stay...
For those unable to face them to correct.
With a choosing to view them not as foolish...
But tools to use to abuse for amusement.
Labelling people evil who speak with truth,
To keep lives lived unchanged and deluded...
Only transfers those minds medicated on fantasies,
To become increasingly addicted...
Limited and mentally sick.
For all eventually wishing to awaken from this!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Days Of Our Lives
How many times have you walked through my door
How many times have you heard my song before
How many lines until the end of time
These are the days of our lives
How many times did you hear mother say
You would do fine if you didn't sleep all day
Oh mother dear, I'll get a job next year
These are the days of our lives
How many times did you walk down the street
Avoiding cracks that were thrown at your feet
These rainy days were sent to make us pay
But these are the days of our lives
How many roads must a woman walk down
How many walls will surround the town
All that I am could get us out of here
These are the days of our lives
Did you believe in the stories at night
Weren't you afraid when they turned out the light
Oh, such a gas, I'm sorry it won't last
These are the days of our lives
These are the days that some of us regret
These are the days we learn to forget
These are the days that turn us out this way
These are the days of our lives
Of our lives
song performed by by Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Respect It Deserves
Those who are fortunate,
To heed to those messages sent...
By listening or reading to comprehend,
What has been delivered and mentioned to them...
Has purpose and reason!
Those believing a manipulation succeeds,
Eventually spend their lives...
In some form of recovery.
In an 'IF' wished.
Either a reflection is done,
On a waste of time committed.
Or a chase to catch up,
To escape from the past...
Is foolishly admitted.
In an 'IF' wished.
However one comes to interpret,
These times we live...
It is certain,
There has been an issuing...
Of duties to be done,
Based upon an alignment...
Of Cosmic assignments.
Most of which have gone ignored.
Those who are fortunate,
To heed to those messages sent...
By listening or reading to comprehend,
What has been delivered and mentioned to them...
Has purpose and reason,
Beyond the limited depths of our understanding.
And...
As long as that becomes understood,
Those frustrations we face will be erased.
As long as this place we call Earth,
Begins to receive the respect it deserves.
We serve 'It'.
Much more than 'It' needs us to serve.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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These Times Lived Have Left Those Times Behind
There is no preventing those
Who choose their influence
To deceive with a prefabrication of truth
They do it as if credible
With a leading of the ones who follow
To believe in anything
They say and do
And conflict those who lie can raise
Just based upon innuendo
As long as they know
An attention can be obtained
With truth and honesty not a goal to achieve
Nor obtain to maintain
To keep one's popularity
These times lived have left those times behind
'Anything I have said before
Has nothing to do what I say to you now
Are there any other questions? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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WikiLeaks Revelations
Journalists write miles about WikiLeaks but they don’t say much,
I’ve wasted hours reading this stuff and it reads like double dutch,
About so called secrets and gossip - insignificant and rough.
Haven’t seen anything worth reading yet and enough is enough.
It all seems to be a lot of newspaper and magazine noise,
Trying to maybe make something out of nothing and dramatize,
If you find something important there, let me know right away,
Please because I’d like to know at least before Columbus Day.
It seems as though the end of the world might be coming soon,
And we should start paying attention to WikiLeaks by noon,
Keep reading the WikiLeak stuff because there’s more coming our way,
It could be very important or maybe not as much as they say.
Dec 21st 2010
poem by James Bredin
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Crowded With Lies
Why are some stunned by truth?
It is not something taught,
One gets accustomed to.
Billions are spent to fantasize.
There is no room for truth,
In a mind crowded with lies.
A progressive mindset,
Has been stunted because of this.
Dismissed are those who wish for reality.
And often they are labelled mavericks.
Or something less flattering,
To ensure their influence has no chance to exist.
Why are some stunned by truth?
It is not something taught,
One gets accustomed to.
Billions are spent to fantasize.
There is no room for truth,
In a mind bombarded and crowded with lies.
And yet those disillusioned,
Pray on Sunday...
To have their lives fixed.
While listening to sermons,
As to how sins and evil have them bewitched.
Their very lives lived are confused in conflicts.
Although truth for many has become feared,
And resisted.
Observed they are...
Bewildered, bothered and betwixted.
Why are some stunned by truth?
It is not something taught,
One gets accustomed to.
Billions are spent to fantasize.
And there is no room for truth,
In a mind bombarded and crowded with lies.
And the marketing of fresh lies...
Is a mainstay in most societies,
That has thrived and survived successfully!
But a continuation of a success like this,
Does not sustain its permanence.
Eventually a strain draining the brain prevents it.
People everywhere and everyday,
Reflect their lack of consciousness.
And revealing a 'craze' that has become accepted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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On Himself
A wearied pilgrim I have wander'd here,
Twice five-and-twenty, bate me but one year;
Long I have lasted in this world; 'tis true
But yet those years that I have lived, but few.
Who by his gray hairs doth his lustres tell,
Lives not those years, but he that lives them well:
One man has reach'd his sixty years, but he
Of all those three-score has not lived half three:
He lives who lives to virtue; men who cast
Their ends for pleasure, do not live, but last.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Let Go of Feeling Low and Busted
Let go of feeling low and busted,
Because of those once trusted...
Have disappointed to leave you in grief.
With a taking of your trust to crush it.
Breathe a sigh of relief.
Your feelings can be easily changed.
Since those who have deceived you,
Have deceived others too.
And you only have two eyes to dry.
Deceivers looking for a place to hide...
Will be crying for the rest of their lives.
Despised by more than one pair of eyes.
Your feelings can be easily changed.
Since those who have deceived you,
Have deceived others too.
And the lives they 'had' lived doing it,
Will never be the same.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Suffering From Head Wounds
Those told what to do most of their lives,
What to think, how to think...
What not to believe or listen to.
And who is stupid,
Because of their physical appearances...
Are those who are most traumatized,
By the sign of these rapidly changing times.
Not all...
But most people have been conditioned to believe,
That the unchanged color of a house...
Also determines what goes on inside.
No matter how many renovations have taken place.
Or evolving maturities of the people living in it.
All people will do is to talk about what they 'knew'.
Or what they've been told.
And...
Most of the time what is known,
Had been heard from one's now grown children...
Or a pet dog or cat,
Programmed to be reliable.
But not from the horse's mouth!
People rather beat their horses to death,
Repeatedly.
Those told most of their lives,
What to think, how to think...
What not to believe or listen to.
And who is stupid,
Because of their physical appearances...
Are those who are most traumatized,
By the sign of the times.
Without being medicated,
Few people are sure if and when they should...
Take a left or right turn,
Why and for what purpose.
And if they should or should not ignore,
Signs that warn them to yield and pay attention...
With caution!
People have been taught to believe and do as they please,
Because...
Well,
They are entitled to do so for the rest of their lives.
'Medic...
There's another one over here suffering from head wounds.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Over Medicating With A Self Importance
We can't imitate the living of life.
We can,
However.
Prevent others from doing so.
To limit eventually,
Our own growth process.
And the evidence of that,
Does not need a tour guide.
We can't imitate the living of life.
Nor can we insist what is not visible exists.
But so much of life lived is not visible...
To expose to anyone to prove it being done.
Most of life lived when given,
Is based on sheer faith and confidence.
Patience and the giving of sacrificial time.
With the knowing in one's mind.
Something divine is keeping track of the mess,
Human beings have made in attempts to perfect nonsense.
We can't imitate the living of life.
Once one has been blessed with it.
There is something genuine and real,
About the feelings one has.
We can,
However.
Prevent others from doing so.
To leave them to live their own lives.
And allow others to learn and grow,
For the sharing of those experiences.
But many don't get this!
Without that interdependence.
We limit eventually,
Our own growth process.
And the evidence of that,
Does not need a tour guide.
We would rather destroy other lives,
With the enforcement of values and standards...
We perceive with beliefs are best for others,
When in fact.
We are hard pressed to show any evidence,
To convince within our own minds.
Of that working for ourselves.
But an over medicating with a self importance?
We can do with the right prescription.
Not to take but to test.
With the observing of the affects on others.
To arrive at a feeling of perfection.
And that,
As of yet.
Can not be found.
However.
We can always say,
What we believe has been achieved.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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At times I wonder2
At times I wonder
what the Almighty’s plan
with my life is
At times its as if
destiny has its own way
with my life.
I still try
to make the best
out of every situation
and to stay free from the onslaught
Still there’s an unknown way
that lies ahead of me
and at times it unfolds
and my Master
makes wonderful things
happen at His time.
[Reference: “God has a plan with our lives that He has not made known yet. For this reason every holy day is filled with astonishment and waiting.” Phillips Brooks.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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In His Eyes! And Ours
Times then were lived,
Within our means.
We valued being clean.
Respected as expected.
This is what everyone did without neglect.
And embraced hygiene!
This was a fact of life known and seen!
Sold on concepts of a desire to learn.
Wanting to comprehend lessons taught...
That broadened our lives with a competitiveness.
With a fear of limits ignorance welcomed.
And we then wished no part of this.
We sought to grow.
And this assisted with an identity dignity presented.
Times then were lived within our means.
To deceive...
Was then thought to be despicable.
To cheat and lie about it,
Did not excite or sit well...
With those who suffered through the consequences,
Of their ways that dismayed.
Today...
People talk the 'walk' but do not walk the talk.
People say they have good intentions.
But leave no evidence of it seen.
Today...
People talk about their standards and values.
As if this is held in an exclusiveness.
And a membership is required for this to be addressed.
Today...
People are obsessed with their possessions.
Their good credit scores and loans they can obtain.
Because they have maintained status given,
Although they keep blemishes hidden...
That may reveal their tainted names.
And they cheat.
Lie.
And deceive!
With lifestyles lived well above their means.
And yet,
When suspected...
Nothing about them is respected.
Nor do the judgements they pass on others...
Keep tax collectors from locking them out,
From foreclosed homes they bragged about.
OR...
Do they 'today' have the means to feed, protect
Or shelter themselves,
In peace.
Times we lived then,
Were lived within our means.
And we were taught to be grateful.
To feel we were blessed.
And we should express this to God.
On a daily basis kept routined!
Like promises we made to ensure we had good hygiene.
And then God...
And only God,
Will make sure our lives lived were lived right!
In His eyes!
And ours.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Boxes Filled With Memories
Sort through any loft
and you will be surprised
at what you find.
Remnants of former lives
that might have lived there.
Boxes filled with memories
you stored up there
and then forgot about.
Some filled with memories,
fragments of your past.
As you go through them,
you smile and remember times
associated with the contents there.
16 February 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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