What Appears Is Clearly Here
Foolish are the ones,
Who believe something they have done...
Is forever etched in stone,
Unchanged.
With claims they own 'discoveries'
Always to remain the same!
For them these days come to amaze.
Some will be dazed.
And left crazed.
For them these days come to amaze...
With few left wishing,
For what's been missed.
For them these days come to amaze.
Some will be dazed.
And left crazed.
A lifting of a consciousness,
Hits!
What is reminisced,
Has been dismissed.
A freshness has arrived,
Upon the lips and ears.
And what appears...
Is clearly here!
A lifting of a consciousness,
Hits!
What is reminisced,
Has been dismissed.
A freshness has arrived,
Upon the lips and ears.
And what appears...
Is clearly here!
Foolish are the ones,
Who believe something they have done...
Is forever etched in stone,
Unchanged.
With claims they own 'discoveries'
Always to remain the same!
For them these days come to amaze.
Some will be dazed.
And left crazed.
For them these days come to amaze...
With few left wishing,
For what's been missed.
A lifting of a consciousness,
Hits!
What is reminisced,
Has been dismissed.
A freshness has arrived,
Upon the lips and ears.
And what appears...
Is clearly here!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Nouveau Loose of Caboose and Off Track
Unmistakable truths,
Are cropping up like pop tarts...
To munch on like a snack,
These days.
Wisecracking 'misfits',
Are more than welcomed...
To join in with the foray.
Displayed on any corner in view.
It seems as if a major shift in consciousness,
Has upon us arrived.
And people are scambling to identify,
With something tangible that is recognizable.
Like...
Those various versions of normalcy,
And...
The rarely used common sense.
Unmistakable truths,
Are cropping up like pop tarts...
To munch on like a snack,
These days.
Wisecracking 'misfits',
Are more than welcomed...
To join in with the foray.
Displayed on any corner in view.
And the nouveau riche,
Find themselves joining forces with those poor.
Since all are welcomed through these doors...
These days.
And in these times we live.
It seems as if a major shift in consciousness,
Has upon us arrived.
And people are scambling to identify,
With something tangible that is recognizable.
These days.
Like the absence of delicious gossip.
You know...?
The kind that baits magnetic ears,
Closer to listen!
We 'must' christen these days,
And the people crazed in dazed amazement:
Nouveau Loose of Caboose and Off Track!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If Someone 'Is' Dismissed
Do not believe for one second,
One dismissed sits and fidgets...
Wishing their presence is missed.
Too many perceive they have the power to do this.
As if the one that has been dismissed,
Sits making adjustments...
In a chair doing nothing,
But looking at thumbs as a twisting of them is done.
Do not believe for one second,
One dismissed sits with wishes to be enlisted...
Into a clique of forget-me-nots full of 'wannabees'.
And usually they are the ones issuing approvals,
To those fearing rejection.
Too many perceive they have the power to do this.
As if the one that has been dismissed,
Sits making adjustments...
In a chair doing nothing,
But looking at thumbs as a twisting of them is done.
Do not believe for one second,
One dismissed sits and fidgets...
Wishing their presence is missed.
How foolish would this be...
If someone sat seeking for an authority,
To approve the choosing of what they do...
And 'who' they should do it with.
If someone 'is' dismissed,
They should be glad of it.
Since there has been a lifting from them,
Any kind of restrictions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Sit, Think and Wonder
I sit,
Think and wonder...
What is 'this' that we are in?
Why are so many commited,
To visit with sin?
The act of praying,
Seems to have some stalled
At deadends!
Are we all twisted hypocrites?
Fixed in our ways,
And dazed by these crazed days?
I sit,
Think and wonder...
What is 'this' that we are in?
How can we avoid a slide that begins?
Why are so many desperately wanting to win?
And what is 'it' that has this grip?
Is satisfaction out of reach...
For those whose minds are torn and split?
Peace has become passé!
Are we foolish enough...
To let our lives be destroyed this way?
What are we obeying when we say 'In God We Trust! '
I sit,
Think and wonder...
About you and me and US!
And how we have allowed,
Our minds to be clouded
In a destruction that attracts...
A rush to destroy a trust we crush!
I sit,
Think and wonder...
What is 'this' that we are in?
Why are so many commited,
To visit with sin?
The act of praying,
Seems to have some stalled
At deadends!
Are we all twisted hypocrites?
Fixed in our ways,
And dazed by these crazed days?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Unchanged
Unchanged,
With a wish to remain the same...
People dare to make claims,
Of better days for them that come.
And when those days do come,
Unlike the other ones...
They do not see them as being better.
Since unchanged,
Are their same complaints...
Seeking acceptance in those better days,
They can not recognize as changed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sizzle From the Heat
If you wish what appears,
Be dismissed and cleared...
You must give...'it'
More than tossed tidbits,
Of a tempermental ignorance.
Before you decide to split,
Ignoring...'it'.
For someone else to...fix!
Quickly before 'it'...is missed.
As if a transfer of common sense,
Takes place and witnessed...
Arriving,
Then away it went!
If not...'it' stays and preys.
Just like 'it' does now in these days.
When folks are seeking jokes to tell...
Drugged with self importance,
Crazed and dazed with themselves to sell!
And looking for someone they qualify...
To prevent them from sliding,
Into their own created hell!
A laziness propells this...
As they love every moment of 'it' too well!
Although these times are found lucrative...
The sizzle from the heat...
Does not cease!
'It' gets hotter as they yell!
Fed on denials burning inside...
Crying and pleading,
To get 'it' away from themselves!
They who try their very best to hide.
From the creeping that keeps them weeping,
They reap.
And what was avoided 'then' can not be now undone.
The fun begins to sting like the zap and zing...
From a stun gun!
Since what comes does not care who is asleep.
The sizzle from the heat...
Burns!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Is a Freedom That Comes
What are you going to do with it?
Sit and sulk?
Or use it to get results?
There is a freedom that comes,
When one is labelled crazed!
And then one day the truth overpowers.
It stuns many.
And will amaze.
And once one has it,
All conflict is lifted from the consciousness.
Some choose to sit like you do!
While others confront the ones who have abused them...
Just to be amused they are armed with truth.
Knowing from within their minds,
They are free and don't care...
Who finds the time to call them foolish,
Or stupid or criticize what they say or do!
To hear these words,
Becomes a luxury deserved.
What are you going to do with it?
Sit and sulk?
Or use it to get results?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Be Or 'Not' To Be Crazed?
To Be or 'not' to Be crazed?
Is that the question to be raise today?
As a craziness seems very obvious,
To be a part of these head splitting days!
To Know Or remain secure in ignorance?
There may be some advantages...
In not trying to comprehend an insanity,
That has descended to begin without end to it.
And those who make attempts to hide a knowledge...
Should burn all credentials,
With a mindless foolishness...
That is frolicked as if to gleam from being polished.
If everyone is upset,
By a mess that is clear,
Why be the one left...
Who 'appears' to be sincere?
To Be or 'not' to Be crazed?
Is not a question to be raised today?
To be sick of dealing with nonsense...
Is like soliciting for membership to an unending parade.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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These Are The Crazed Days We Live!
You can to yourself,
Believe something is 'not' true.
But you can not openly say,
You believe something 'not' to be true.
Because if you do today...
What you choose to say,
May become offensive!
However...
Complete deceit is accepted.
Embellished with fanfare,
It is praised.
A lie kept in secrecy...
Will gain one rewards!
And the more one can amaze by its telling...
One may just get,
A ticker taped parade!
These are the crazed days we live!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Days to Let Go
It's been
Days
Since you left
Days since
I let you go
I feel off
Somehow
Its as if
A part of me
Has drifted away
Eventually I'll
Get over you
But for now
I still wish
You were here
By my side
Wish I could
Hear your voice
Wishing will do me no good
It's been
Days
Since you left
Days without
You
And I've come
To realize
Letting go is hard
poem by Autumn Winds
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Choosing To Be Fooled
Crazed are these days.
And everybody prays they'll go away.
But when they came and visited,
Few among them resisted.
Crazed are these days.
And everybody prays they'll go away.
But when they came and visited,
Few among them resisted.
And sitting idle while they arrived,
Were people in denial.
Criticizing those who said...
'Be prepared for the days ahead.
Ignore the facts!
But try to get them off your back.
Ignore the facts!
And you'll lay awake in bed instead.'
Deluded are the people...
Choosing to be fooled.
Crazed are these days.
And everybody prays they'll go away.
But when they came and visited,
Few among them resisted.
Crazed are these days.
That everybody prays will go away,
With ignoring of facts.
Trying to get them off their backs fast.
Deluded are the people...
Choosing to be fooled.
With a wish,
To be fools.
Dumbed-down.
Dumbee doo dumbee doo bee doo.
Dumbed-down.
Dumbee doo dumbee doo bee doo.
Dumbed-down.
Dumbee doo dumbee doo bee doo.
Dumbed-down...
Dumbee doo down bee doo bee doo.
Come softly,
Fleeced sheep.
Stay sleeping,
And weep.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Exhibitions of Genocide
This planet has not condoned or dismissed...
Exhibitions of genocide.
Remissed by those who participate in it!
For purposes of gentrification...
To relocate,
The ones in need who are left broken and shakened.
This planet has not condoned or dismissed...
These acts of selfishness,
With the ease that 'had' existed.
And those who have done this,
Will soon find themselves despised.
Not only by their own kind,
In time.
But also from the watchful eyes of God.
Who has begun to turn the tide.
With the destruction of values!
As witnessed by the influx,
Of those left with crazed minds!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Envied
Digging deep,
For signs of credibility...
Being swept along streets,
To catch between the grated holes...
A mass marketing sweeps,
Those of vacant minds into consumed
Materialistic hysteria!
Keeping back orders of ridiculousness in business!
It's amazing this BS is tax free.
It's amazing,
Just how crazed this madness is these days.
The sight of squeezed fat ugly butts,
Into imaginations stretched beyond...
Digusting jellied guts.
To hide a gluttony of sad habits.
Like a 'secret' tote that's puffed,
From that 'weed' folks can not give up!
As a few stand by and watch...
This drug infested simmering stew brew!
It's amazing this BS is tax free.
It's amazing,
Just how crazed this madness is these days.
And as amazing as it is,
It does not daze or faze at all!
The unconscious have been immunized.
Once dumbfounded and surprised?
Those eyes are now glazed.
It's amazing this BS is tax free.
It's amazing,
Just how crazed this madness is these days.
Those in this 'conditional' situation,
Ride this gutter ride as if it is envied.
As if this life of dismissed consciousness is sought,
By those thought to be kept at bay and disadvantaged!
And those used to maintain those images...
Pray for the salvation of their sanctuaries,
To stay off the radar for such 'missionaries'...
To advance upon them with these teachings of their ways!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Death
I have a death with my name,
I amaze those with sleep and repose;
Your innocence today?
My days are in bereavement
And grief is a complication.
Frenzied with youth, a matter
Has arisen to the life of one:
Happiness of the hair is written
Under the trees of revelry,
For they blow green and naturally
Like the song of natural death.
Laughter times itself when wind
Has arrived, forever in splendour.
poem by Naveed Akram
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One Never Knows
One never knows,
What 'truths' are left standing.
When so much depends,
Upon lies...
Told,
And shattered!
One never knows,
If beliefs...
Are myths of schemes.
Or what exists,
Is reality...
One should ponder.
One never knows,
What heartbreaks await them.
Or what it takes,
To escape fear...
Of a life,
Still held dear!
Simple are those days,
Long gone.
With hopes and dreams wished.
Held on to keep them lingered.
Remembering days missed,
And reminisced.
Are like gifts to those who choose them.
Since they seem not to change.
One never knows,
If beliefs...
Are myths of schemes.
Or what exists,
Is reality...
One should ponder.
As they wander!
One never knows,
What heartbreaks await them.
Or what it takes,
To escape fear...
Of a life,
Still held dear!
Simple are those days,
Long gone.
With hopes and dreams wished.
Held on to keep them lingered.
Remembering days missed,
And reminisced.
Are like gifts to those who choose them.
Since they seem to never change.
One never knows,
What 'truths' are left standing.
When so much depends,
Upon lies...
Told,
And shattered!
Although,
This does matter...
To those,
Who choose life...
Just to bloom.
And to grow!
Living a life,
As it is...
Wrong or right.
Who can say...
They,
Really 'know'!
Who lives life as it is...
To say,
They know?
Who can say...
They know?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Some Days Are Diamonds
This song appears on eight albums, and was first released on the some days are diamonds album. it has also been released on the greatest hits vol 3, favourites, country classics, the rocky mount
Ollection, the country roads collection, the very best of john denver (double cd) and changes albums.
When you ask how i've been here without you
I like to say i've been fine and i do
But we both know the truth is hard to come by
And if i told the truth, that's not quite true
Some days are diamonds, some days are stone
Some time the hard times won't leave you alone
Some times the cold winds blow a chill in my bones
Some days are diamonds, some days are stone
Now the face that i see in my mirror
More and more is a stranger to me
More and more i can see there's a danger
In becoming what i never thought i'd be
Some days are diamonds, some days are stone
Some time the hard times won't leave you alone
Some times the cold winds blow a chill in my bones
Some days are diamonds, some days are stone
Words and music by dick feller
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Standing On The Other Side
Whatever it was you thought you had time to do.
And with a familiar procrastination...
You would do what pleases you.
And...
With a comprehension missed,
Along with an attention span...
You pawned for something quicker,
With an ease you believed...
You could control and demand?
Well,
Attached your ears to this...
Those days are gone!
And those that have moved on...
Have left you,
Behind.
Standing on the other side of that mental divide.
Standing and waiting,
For an acknowledgement you had grown accustomed...
That others would provide.
But you missed them!
Standing as the winds of changed,
Pushed you aside.
And they were there...
Giving you a long wave goodbye.
Like in...
Do whatever you please,
'Cause that day has come...
For most to ignore,
What it is you have not yet done!
What you could not believe,
Has arrived to make you convinced.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dismissed Fortune Tellers
Time changes that,
Which is believed set in stone.
It's less traumatic today to awaken with amnesia.
Than to witness the wonders of discovery,
Widen the eyes of those devoted to tales told...
Vanishing as truth of events unfold.
While those whistle blowers are being reminisced,
As dismissed fortune tellers.
'In your future I see...
Several hands,
Other than yours...
Playing more than a game of pool,
In your pockets.'
~Stop it.
Were you passed over for a raise you expected? ~
Not to initiate discussions of pervert activity,
But some people became quite offended...
By the thought of someone else,
Tossing big balls around discreetly.
Whistle blowers became labelled...
As those disgruntled,
That nothing was slipped in their pockets...
To keep them hushed.
So they were slandered as liars and crushed.
And to the exits...rushed!
'Those were the days my friend.
Days that came to an end for those snoopers of greed,
Sitting high in executive seats.
And found noticebly cheating to bring more into their homes,
Besides a dozen of eggs and bacon.'
These rats had acquired taste to build their own cheese factories.
Time changes that,
Which is believed set in stone.
It's less traumatic today to awaken with amnesia.
Than to witness the wonders of discovery,
Widen the eyes of those devoted to tales told...
Vanishing as truth of events unfold.
While those whistle blowers are being reminisced,
As dismissed fortune tellers.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Late Of Days
What have you left me
Late of Days?
There’s never a smile
For my words of praise,
And not a look
Or a sigh is spent
To point the way
That the wonder went;
Where is the way
Of the ancient ways –
What have you left me
Late of Days?
What have you left me;
Tardy nights
And grim repairs
To the look-alikes,
A heart that’s troubled
And torn, and spent –
Which was the way
Your wishing went?
Why these thoughts
Of your witching ways –
What have you left me
Late of Days?
25 October 1979
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Motivational Cry Of Those Idealistic
Those procrastination days,
Many saved to use later...
Are out of date.
And time wasted will not be replaced.
The sitting on actions to do,
But left undone...
Should be discarded.
Opportunities for them will not come.
That 'It's-Never-Too-Late' myth once wished,
As the motivational cry of those idealistic...
Can with certainty be dismissed.
These days passing fast for many will be missed.
Anyone questioning the revamping of their existence,
Send them to the Lost and...
Well,
Realistically...
Their loss is their loss and will not be found!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Policies Allowed
Your policies allowed,
Those 'crazed' to be praised.
With no depth to be appraised,
As consciousness raising.
With no sign anywhere,
That respects intelligence.
And this is 'not' a criticism.
Nor an embellishment of fact.
These comments are made,
From a focused observantion.
And exposed are pretentions...
Successfully charaded,
To masquerade.
When corners are left,
To collect the settling of dust.
And a crust from rust...
Is anxiously swept under a rug,
With a practiced thrust.
There is unsurmountable trouble that exists.
And it should not be offensive to mention this.
If those who clean claim they have worked,
To the extreme.
Lips are quick to lie in high places!
Your policies allowed,
Those 'crazed' to be praised.
With no depth to be appraised,
As consciousness raising.
With no sign anywhere,
That respects intelligence.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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