What Incentive Would They Have...
Those upper crust need not be butter uppers.
You or anyone else will not find them,
Trying to impress with mispronounced quotations,
Used to address the interest of those captivated...
By proper etiquette or ivy league schools selected,
To attend at the benefit of their well dressed children.
Not when one can afford,
To buy 'who' and what they want to satisfy whims.
Not them!
What incentive would they have,
To make attempts to publicly flaunt their wealth?
Folks like this can claim to own the air others breathe.
And to pollute it if they chose to do it,
The moment they decided to do this to leave...
If anyone dared to believe,
Their doing it was a joke!
And to impress anyone who insisted,
What incentive would they have to do this?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
If In The Acquisition Made
What benefit is there to things,
If in the acquisition made...
Not one touch from them they bring.
Or a pair of eyes caught,
Making a passing glance.
What benefit is there to flaunt,
That which one has...
Believed others want.
Although dauntless in appearance,
Is the the one who flaunts unnoticed.
And if one has tired of a charade,
Where does one go...
To validate satisfaction done,
From a masquerading others shun.
Although impeccably dressed to impress.
What benefit is there to things,
If in the acquisition made...
Not one touch from them they bring.
And no caring is there to share,
Romanced to be enhanced from anyone anywhere.
What benefit is there?
When the expense of getting attention,
Doesn't make sense without a dividend to please.
Or noticed received by someone teased.
Or at least pretending to be caught up in the moment.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Incentive
There is so much incentive,
For one who reinvents!
There is an exploration done...
For many that makes no sense.
There is a task to find new ways,
To stretch a curious mind.
And sometimes doing that creates,
An uneasiness one finds!
But when it settles in and others see it,
As it is.
They come to see it as positive inducement,
Since incentives aren't negative!
'Huh? '
There is so much incentive,
For one who...
'No! Not that part.
The part about reinventing.
What are you 'reinventing'?
My incentive!
'Oh! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ghetto Dressed
Ghetto dressed...
Is still the same mess,
Ghetto dressed.
It may not be politically correct,
To address this publicly.
Or expect this confessed.
But some who lack a certain finesse...
With social graces limited at best.
May acquire an appearance,
That might impress.
However...
If there is no consciousness,
That understands there is more to success...
Than 'things' one possesses.
Ghetto dressed...
Is still the same mess,
Ghetto dressed.
And 'if' left unaddressed...
It will never progress,
To heights of one's accepted satisfaction.
That's just the way it is,
Without polish, sacrifice and a few tears!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Youthful Steps
I aint trying to get down with the beat,
Or keep it funky for 'nobody'.
To boogey to impress,
I can address with sweat...
A few youthful steps,
With a shaking of my booty...
Is not a challenge.
What is?
And there is nothing complex about it.
But...
I've discovered that an acceptance,
Of the aging process harnesses for me...
A self respect I did not expect I would enjoy.
I know my comments annoy a lot of old folks.
But I aint trying to stay timeless,
With a hip and with it attitude.
Plus...
I am not living with a wish to have done things,
I did not or could not do.
I've made attempts and will continue.
Although I could,
If I so desired...
To get down and sweat with the best!
But,
I aint trying to get down with the beat,
Or keep it funky for 'nobody'.
To boogey to impress,
I can address with sweat...
Youthful steps,
With a shaking of my booty?
Is stressful.
And poppa don't want to prove,
I can be an aging fool.
Too many are doing that already.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Values
Sometimes we do things
hoping to succeed
only to impress someone
to make them like us more,
but in our haste to impress
we are flawed by mistakes
and success eludes us
at every turn of the road.
Then when those we wanted to impress
fade out of our lives
and we look back
at what we have done
we realise we don’t
need to have to impress anymore.
We then start to do things
for ourselves
and slowly our success
is finally realised.
15 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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What Is It Now Are You Left To Believe?
What sense is it to hold grudges against,
The one who comes to warn?
To then have them depicted as negative,
With a dismissing of the warning?
Only to wonder when alone and reminiscing,
Why were you picked to be chosen to warn?
By and 'angel' who came but was not adorned,
To address you enough to impress with a message.
What is it now are you left to believe?
A listening to comprehend?
When you could have prevented,
An agony suffered with much regret?
And the one who warned you bitterly scorned.
Believing them evil and full of devil-ment?
What is it now are you left to believe?
Only those dressed to impress,
Have your best interests?
With deceptions you'd rather receive?
Or do you find more time to reflect,
Who comes delivering messages...
You should consider and accept.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What Has Been Forced and Faked
One trying to impress,
Another who is impressive...
Is like someone waiting for a delivery,
With a patience...
That anticipates.
And when the moment comes,
The addressing is found to be incorrect.
With a name spoken needing a spell check.
Expecting a reception,
By one who does not accept what is given...
Is a rejection that communicates,
Someone is not comprehending...
What a sharing of a conversation takes.
And one who is impressive,
Makes no attempts to impress...
With what has been forced and faked.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Not Seeking To Be Begged
Everything they have ever wanted,
Was not only right under their noses...
But sent them daily reminders,
Of its presence and the benefits...
They would receive.
This they dismissed.
And doing it at their own expense.
Instead of valuing what was given,
Those chose to demean and disrespect...
All that appeared in their treasure chest.
And when that treasure chest left...
That's when they decided,
They would then inspect its worth.
As if everything they have ever wanted,
Although unrecognized...
Would not become appreciated by others,
Not seeking to be begged,
To be handed gold!
Knowing immediately what it was.
Those refusing what was there,
Had grown to seek depictions...
Of what they had been told,
What it was to look for to qualify success.
To accept the appearance of it dressed to impress,
To only then address it with superficial respect.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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After Testing In a Marketed Ghetto
Style to address.
Style to impress,
Style.
Style to originate.
Update and/or replace.
To modify what has been done.
Refreshing an existence for everyone.
Whether or not,
It may irritate some.
While others may imitate it.
Style is what it takes,
To shape and remake to satisfy...
The taste of those who claim they know what it is!
After testing in a marketed ghetto.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Meant to Be Overheard
Listen to them...
And you can tell,
What kinds of people they are.
And what they value,
Most!
What they boast about!
And how that is done well.
It's important to them,
Where they live.
And the prices of the homes,
In their neighborhoods.
It's important to them,
Who they know.
And where they socialize,
At the private clubs they go!
It's important to them,
What they drive.
And the number of vehicles they own.
What they purchase and where they shop!
The prices paid.
To which charities they give.
And the amounts they gave!
It's important to them,
How many degrees they have.
Which schools they were on the honor roll.
The training of their pets.
And where their children are currently enrolled.
It's important to them,
Where they take vacations.
And travel first class...
'Of course! Don't you? '
On buses, trains and planes.
And that once a year 30 day cruise.
It's important to them,
Where they wine and dine.
With the utmost of etiquette.
It's important to them,
The churches they attend.
Their religious and political affiliations.
Where near the pulpit on pews they sit.
And how much they donate...
As an 'anonymous' gift!
And listening to all of this self centered display...
One is proud and honored,
To be lifted from this pretentiousness.
Feeling grateful to be from them fading away...
From such displays of selfish ways.
And feeling more of a wholesomeness to be lived.
Far more beneficial.
Than existing to flaunt and receive attention.
Today many could care less,
Who tries to impress.
With an embellish and over exaggerated intention!
Meant to be overheard as it is addressed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In The World Of Adulthood
Those remaining,
In the playing of their silly games...
In a sustained immaturity,
Find themselves wishing to undo...
What it is they have done they do,
Once to them it has been acknowledged...
Those remaining,
In the playing of their silly games...
In a sustained immaturity,
Have lost all credibility...
In the world of adulthood,
Where children dressed 'as' adults...
Are not allowed to impress,
With a childish foolishness to be accepted.
'Comeon!
You can't take a joke? '
~I use to accept fools with a suffering done...
Of their antics too.
At one time.
But a seriousness of my life,
And in my mind...
Seemed to have overnight,
Risen to the top of my priority list.
And adults who are mature,
Are the only folks I wish to deal with.
And they today appear difficult to find.
Call it...
A plateau of maturity reached.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Too Comfortable A Passenger
You have come much too late,
To request from me to give to you...
What at one time,
Was thrown back in my face.
It is not that I am embittered.
Those days feeling that way,
From me have gone.
And like the passing of each season,
I'm not the one to linger with wishes,
That any season I might like...
Continues to go on.
That would be too selfish of me,
To believe something will wait...
Until I decided it was time to celebrate,
In the appreciation of it.
You have come much too late,
To request from me to give to you...
What at one time,
Was thrown back in my face.
However I will suggest,
You develop more pro-action...
With a learning to do that at your best.
And accept what to you has been given.
Instead of looking for something to impress.
Since this might eventually,
Address your attempts to catch...
A train that has already left the station.
And I have been made too comfortable a passenger,
To get off to satisfy a going back in time.
Even if that 'was' a possibility.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Essential
I know I am more than qualified.
Every moment of my life,
Has been scrutinized under microscope.
When I used the bathroom...
There were those who gave up hope,
I could do that on my own.
Every step I made has been followed.
And attempts to overcome my weaknesses...
Were spent in public view.
I did not hide behind a desk.
Nor group with a clique...
To mask my defects.
I know I am more than qualified.
Every moment of my life,
Has been scrutinized under microscope.
I had been considered foolish...
Quite lazy and a joke.
And as I realized those who found time to criticize...
I knew then I was more than qualified.
Since I used my time...
Clearing obstacles off my path.
And thanking God along the way...
I had humor left to laugh,
At those who took their valuable time...
Finding fault with what I did.
When all I've done is to use my mind!
And blessed to have teachers,
Who knew how to subdue my ego!
And thanks to them I let that go when it annoyed!
I know I am more than qualified.
I am removed from that which had blinded my eyes!
Which in fact...
Just might make some folks highly dissatisfied,
That I have made my credentials far more essential...
Than I have utilized!
I like to keep that as a surprise!
It's fun to throw around a resumé every now and then.
Not to impress.
But just to get a moment's rest when interviewed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Own World
Come here,
Quick!
We're hoping you can help us,
Make some sense of this.
We are diehard conformists.
To that we admit.
And those we chose to ridicule...
Had been the ones we selected,
As 'do-nothing' mavericks.
Shouldn't we have been the ones,
To have prospered?
To benefit from our loyalty.
The ones to make the gains...
With lifestyles to benefit?
In fact...
They had been those we ostracized.
And we made sure of it!
Now they appear to have profited...
From anti-social behavior,
That declared them lunatics.
Come here,
Quick!
Do you have an explanation,
For any of this?
'Well,
As an observer...
I can only offer this quip.
It seems those who chose to live free,
Of restrictions...
Are happier they did and did not quit.
Regardless of who thought what of them.
Or who passed judgement on their 'craziness'!
They do not seem to be complaining at all,
About an economic crisis...
That has marched the rest of you,
To the edge of an abyss.
And here you are filled with anger.
The ones gritting your teeth.
And spitting expletives.
You stand in a group...
Shouting in fits.
Cursing others loudly.
And with clenched fists!
Shouldn't that be the actions of those you claim...
To have been the ones isolated and brought to shame?
Didn't you say,
You all had gone out of your way...
To smear their reputations and ruin their names? '
Yeah,
But...
'I thank God I do not live in this neighborhood! '
Where do you live?
'I've been told I live in my own world years ago.
And I am so glad I decided to make it comfortable.
Thank you for asking for my opinion.
I thought I had been totally ignored.
You don't mind if I leave,
And take my peace of mind with me?
I've had it for so long...
Your question caught me off guard! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Going Through My Head
Is it worthy to keep and maintain notes,
On the proper execution of social etiquette?
Or expressing flawless elocution,
When asked to publicly speak...
At a dinner party when a food fight erupts,
Over misunderstanding what was heard.
When the key speaker mispronounces words,
Intending to impress.
Or leaves those who are contributors believing,
They are being described as leechers...
Instead of donators that has afforded a success.
There has been an absence of preparation.
'I specifically asked my speech writer,
To replace the word 'suckers' for philanthropers.
That word might have been a thought,
Going through my head in the early stages...
To incorporate 'my' own experiences.
And not meant to be verbally said.
This has clearly been a misinterpretation of intent.
And for that I apologize.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Whatever That Is That Teases
My goal?
Is to live my life,
Without the selling of my soul.
Although I've been tempted on many occasions,
To go for the bling and satisfy my passions.
Or whatever that is that teases to leave.
But I often found myself comfortably dressed,
With no intentions to impress...
Anyone who could not comprehend,
The depths of my steadfast compassion.
Addressed to prioritized and within me stays.
There are some things I can not temporarily undo.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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IF I Was On A Mission To Impress
If my mission was to impress,
To effectively address a perceived ego...
Gone unidentified as an awareness.
With a labelling of being arrogant.
I certainly would not begin,
With a depiction of a forest others do not see...
Although walking through it to go unseen.
Nor would I mention with acknowledgment,
My familiarity with each kind of tree within it...
To call each one by name to express my respect for them.
If...
I 'was' on a mission to impress.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Deeds I Seed and Sow
We all have made our decisions.
And began taking paces,
Towards our fates.
On selected paths.
With eyes we hoped were clear.
To afford our desires,
An unregrettable pass.
Undeterred and focused.
Many wished it easy for themselves.
And followed upon a certain,
Obstacle free smooth surface.
Less bumpy of sweat and grind.
To prove those who sought to be challenged...
Would find they've been left behind.
And the ones overwhelmed,
With a process thought ridiculous...
Chose to live lives of deception and tricks.
Hoping to lick,
A system that would award them with triumph!
Quick.
To impress with appearances dressed.
And finding an acceptance,
From those addressing polished images seen.
'Be patient with yourself.
Do not look down in depression.
Or to the side for anyone else.
If your abilities merit attention...
There will be little,
From your lips you will have to mention.
Your deeds will speak,
For themselves.
Within your mind keep this repeated,
'Deeds I seed and sow...
Will speak for themselves.'
'Deeds I seed and sow...
Will speak for themselves.'
'Deeds I seed and sow...
Will speak for themselves.'
Within your mind keep this repeated.
Do not allow defeat be seated!
'Deeds I seed and sow...
Will speak for themselves.'
We all have made our decisions.
And began taking paces,
Towards our fates.
On selected paths.
With eyes we hoped were clear.
To afford our desires,
An unregrettable pass.
Undeterred and focused.
Within your mind keep this repeated.
Do not allow defeat be seated!
'Deeds I seed and sow...
Will speak for themselves.'
'Deeds I seed and sow...
Will speak for themselves.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Even If You Dared
Sitting on a ledge...
And edgy!
Don't push me to show,
My ugly side.
Or flaunt that you can...
Get that close to try.
Why you are the only one,
I let frustrate me to get like this...
Wanting more to impress you each time,
Or just to unnerve you a little bit.
I haven't figured that out yet,
To control and handle it.
And you know this to be true too!
Knowing I will allow you to do what you do.
However...
You will not be that one,
To see me stumble, fall or jump...
To conclusions!
Even if you dared.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Left to Play the Blame Game
Conditioned to discredit their own kind.
In neighborhoods...
Where one has said,
Folks have lost their moral fiber.
Others who have come to witness this...
Have come to realize,
Those folks have also lost their minds.
Unfortunately...
They have been encourage,
To lose their identity as well.
Their ambitions have been to flaunt,
A foolishness dressed to impress!
In a collected unified distrust of one another.
Not realizing this would lead to communities,
Under duress.
And stressed in their own distress.
With no one left to care,
How or if they correct such a mess.
Since this has been their wish!
Bestowing a self destruction done at its best.
Left to play the blame game...
With no one but themselves.
Pointing fingers!
And leaving them to thrive...
In conditions they've imposed,
But have chosen to see it with eyes...
In blind defiance.
Despising truth,
That confronts them exposed.
But this and who they are goes denied!
No matter who comes qualified...
To tell them about themselves.
Or tries to correct their ignorant lives.
Whether dressed in street clothes...
Or suited up with bowties!
'They just do not get it! '
A mindset this shallow...
Although recognized,
Is best to leave in the hands of those who defend it.
Since those who criticize and become offended,
Are the ones that are ostracized!
The ones trying to mend it!
Finding they are living much happier lives...
Divorced from such division.
Divorced from those in constant criticsms.
And observing this nonsense from the outside.
Living with a peace of mind...
As a decision made.
And feeling grateful and blessed,
In confessions they profess...
They were able to find,
With a welcomed rest!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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