What It Means To Bloom
There are those who were born,
Knowing intuitively who they are.
With an attraction they could not avoid.
And eventually it became...
A life and not a decision.
And they sought to grow.
And they sought to bloom...
With a seeking to be critiqued!
And others live a life undecisive,
With the hopes that someone...
Comes and notices what it is done they do,
To encourage them with motivation...
That is accepted as constructive criticsm.
Allowing a process that becomes disciplined...
And less argumentative.
Like many who never discover what it means to bloom.
'I do what I do.
I don't need to improve.'
~Good luck.
I hope your feathers don't get too ruffled.
Or the few that are left don't get plucked.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Is the Kind of Life
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
We are born to believe,
What is fed to us.
This 'feeding' is received...
And what is perceived,
We with others retrieve with like minds!
Preferring to find those of the same kind,
With like 'experiences' shared without fear!
And fear keeps us all indoctrinated to accept doubt!
Isn't that what marketing peace is about?
With the realization it will never be found...
As we rely on the production of conflict and confusion,
To always be identified!
Knowing that as well as we do.
And hoping this in our lives stays around!
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
And is kept alive to thrive...
In comfort zones,
Until the day we die!
Leaving those who defy these 'truths'...
Spilling their guts out in confession booths.
Or squeezing themselves to sit in pews...
As they listen to hypocrites from pulpits preach,
To leech on minds already screwed and confused!
And this is the kind of life,
We all have come to love!
Listening to teachings,
That 'demons' from hell have no wings...
Allowing to be demoralized on Sunday,
Learning more about the devil...
As we hear these 'disciples' sing!
And this is the kind of life,
We all have come to love!
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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He Comes Knowing
He comes knowing he is challenged.
He has live his entire life...
Challenged.
Disciplined and observant.
Do you think he is oblivious to the obvious?
And living in a preferred time zone.
Comforted by hidden insecurities...
And deluded by the absence of practiced truths?
He comes knowing he is challenged.
He has live his entire life...
Challenged.
Disciplined and observant.
Do you believe,
One who has been made to feel an 'outsider'...
Does not perceive,
Who receives him as he is!
Amongst those who are quick...
To ridicule him with their negative judgements.
He comes knowing he is challenged.
He has live his entire life...
Challenged.
Disciplined and observant.
And...
He is guided by the 'Divine'!
In time,
You will discover that.
He comes knowing he is challenged.
And knowing he does...
What will and must take place,
To clean up disgraceful traces left,
By those who have lived their entire lives unchallenged...
Thoughtless.
And,
Born to feed their greed!
Prepare...
For the 'We Can and 'We Will'
Winds of change to blow,
Dramatically across the land!
And free of addicting pollutants.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Addressing a Reality
What is that you are seeking?
'Seeking?
I'm not in a search to seek anything.
Not anymore.
When I sought my life to live,
With an acknowledgement...
I did too much of that for others,
I found what I needed.
What you observe me doing,
Is a living of my life.
And it took me a while to identify it,
As 'my' life to live.
And it may seem to you I am seeking,
Because of an excitement you see me express.
Seeking?
No.
I am addressing a reality I have found.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mrs. Hitchcock
Hello Mrs. Hitchcock
I hope truly you are doing well
I hope life has been very good to you
But that as time, someday it will tell.
And how are your beautiful daughters
I hope too they are doing fine
I hope they became wonderful women
I hope too they are gentle and very kind.
I hope they are seeking their destiny
In this hard world which we know as life
A hard journey for either woman or man
Or maybe, they became a mother and a wife.
Tell me do they have the beauty of their mother
And also do they have the eyes of their dad,
Do they both like to joke and laugh and enjoy life
And do they cry, when they are very sad.
Do they help others when they are in trouble
The way that you also had taught them to do
And do they sing when they are very happy
And are they virtuous, and also so very true.
Tell me do they also believe in heaven and God
Knowing that he is the reason that they are here
And do they thank him for the mother he gave them
Maybe their life someday, will be someone's mirror.
So once again I hope you are doing very well
I truly hope you have found in life what you sought
Also I hope everyday for you, it is a beautiful day
So again I wish you well, Mrs. Hitchcock.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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My Choice Is to Make History
I'm one to adventure life.
Accepting it as a process.
I feel blessed to be granted it to bloom, flourish and grow.
Seeking purpose.
And when that purpose is fulfilled,
It then is time to move on!
Like each season that acknowledges the next.
Never to overstay a visit!
I too have those same wishes.
To remain unchallenged,
I know is not my mission.
And as long as I am blessed with my life,
I will seek the unknown.
To uncover it.
To leave behind for someone to discover I existed.
My choice is to make history.
Not relive it!
At times it can become uncomfortable.
But no learning I've ever achieved,
Came easy.
Or resulted from a path cleared of obstacles.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Gifts to Deliver You From Inner Conflict
You can not undo misfortunes done.
However...
You can ease the affects of them,
By not having them revisit in your mind.
Or share with others,
A wish to spread your darkness.
Not having that which had been in your possession...
May be a needed lesson learned.
And you refuse the method taught,
By this teaching done you did not seek.
And the diminished options,
Now out of materialism sought...
And easily once reached!
Eventually you will begin to see them,
As gifts to deliver you from inner conflict...
Sitting with you to torture!
When you loosen your grip.
Accepting the reality that now exists.
If you choose to grow and bloom!
To fulfill a happiness sought,
Without boundaries brought.
Or limitations...
You envisioned,
And once 'assumed' are requirements...
To nourish and feed an unending need,
To keep you wealthy in such gloom!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Grown to Bloom
In the days gone,
When I took for granted...
My life.
And the ease of complicity,
I had accepted nature...
As it surrounded me.
I've grown to bloom!
I've grown to comprehend...
What begins ends soon.
To feed a process,
I am blessed to experience.
And...
I have learned to enjoy whatever it is,
I do!
More than any time before!
Now that I know I can open doors!
And not be concerned how it was done.
That task...
I leave in the hands of a mind,
Far greater than mine.
I've grown to bloom...
To wither.
To feed a process,
I am blessed to experience.
Until I have finally come to rest,
In the nest of eternity!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Process continues
All the eggs don’t hatch.
All the seeds don’t burst.
All the loves don’t spark.
Yet the process continues.
All the chicks don’t live.
All the sprouts don’t grow.
All the loves don’t bloom.
But the process continues.
Pest takes toll of the siblings.
Drought takes the toll of the seedlings.
Fate stalls many loves in making.
Still the process continues.
The process spurts the hope.
The process spurs the heart.
The process thrills the senses.
Evolution, thus, continues.
03.10.2000, Pkmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Something Keeps Me in High Hopes
Something keeps me in high hopes
Carefree, happy, free from thought
And nothing do I want more
Relaxation: all I've sought
Still, yet still, I'm bound to earth (and can't untie the knot)
Could Not Possibly Be Done Without Them
A persistent consistency isn't resistent to critique.
No!
Even though this may be believed.
There is a shared interdependency,
That benefits as a gift.
One who has been focused with purpose,
Has become accustomed to this deed.
And determined to use criticsm,
As a sign of something done...
That is appreciated but not by everyone.
And this continues with a seeking of critique one does,
As a method to keep critics feeling instrumental...
To what is needed to achieve what one does to do,
That could not possibly be done without them...
To ignite that inspiration kept and sought,
For a motivation that sparks one's drive to succeed.
'You could have used another line to rhyme with the other.
Why didn't you do it? '
~It's for the critics I exist.
But 'this' I keep them unaware of it.
I like to refer to this done,
As a mutual benefit of applied irritation.~
'But...
Does it work? '
~We've been irritating each other for years.
So I would think that it does.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Kill As A Rooted Weed
Even from its birth,
What is accepted has to be allowed to grow.
To bloom as it is encouraged with a nourishment.
Influencing the environment...
With a benefit that returns.
Profiting mentally from a steadfast accountability.
To leave it believing it should remain as is...
Without guiding its potential or assist an ambition,
Will kill as a rooted weed restricted to limits.
And a sharing of disappointment sought to escape,
As one tries to run away unsuccessfully...
To free from responsibility.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Where Has That Quality Of Life Gone Today?
Those that grow old but not 'up',
Live lives in recycled patterns.
A process that benefits routine...
Within set limitations,
That have come to demean common sense.
Those living to break away from those 'molds',
Had been referred to as nonconformists at one time.
Now the 'mavericks' have replaced them,
With no concern for the quality of life.
And when nonconformists were shunned...
They sought a better way of life for everyone.
And many attempted to do this,
Without the purchasing and selling...
Of illegal weapons such as guns.
And where has that quality of life gone today?
To the pleading of the needs of those greedy...
Who have left that quality of life stray,
Into corrupted decay.
With other 'necessities' politically and religiously valued.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Caress
I used to be careless
Then I longed for the sweet caress
The freedom, the release
The end of me
It was what I ate every morning
That thought... dying didn't matter, no mourning
What is there to mourn when there's no value?
And what can you value in brokenness
In deceit, in hatred, in lust, in loneliness
All I valued was the caress,
The lovely dark touch
The release, the purpose, the crux
I earnestly waited
I ardently longed
I deeply desired
But one day my whole life changed...
I saw value, I felt value, I saw love, I felt love, joy unfeigned
I cant quite describe it, certainly not it all
It was the day He stopped my fall
But I still longed for the caress
The end to the pain, the end of suffering
I had new reasons now I must confess
But the old remained too
I still earnestly sought to escape, but this time to You
I sough the seemingly easier way out.
Let me just say it outright
I've always juts wanted to die, desired death, eternal night
I sought death, sometimes it was all I thought about...
But today (3-23-12) I finally felt fear
Not only did I not desire death
But I was afraid of it I could not just let
My life go, and I knew You were near
So I didn't want to die, I felt fear
I wanted to give my friend a gift
With hopes to encourage and uplift
I wanted to free my friends from the lie
With truth, love, faith and hope
Not be remembered as 'there for them', just to help them cope
But to free them from bondage
From death so they might have life, no cage
No prison, no lies, no fear, no shame, no death
I want to see them live, I want to live with them
I don't just want to know when
I want to be there
I want to be there when it happens
So I cant die... I won't die, not yet
Not till they know life.
Sorry God if it
s a selfish request or thought
But I fell like this is kingdom You brought
So now I want to bring them in
Please help, I cannot do it alone, not in my sin
But with You I'll take them back
So for the first time in my life I
I don't want to die
Help me show them Your love, let it overwhelm
All of this from a bee
That landed on me
You could say I'm allergic, I could go in a coma or die
I wished that ti would just fly
Away... but in that moment I caught
Myself fearing death, desiring life, I haven't fought
The good fight, I'm fighting
I'm loving
I'm seeking
I'm praying
I'm finally...
Finally
Living
poem by David Knox
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Take My Life
I think that we've come to under-estimate the phrase
Take my life
It carries so much weight?
Take my life
It means kill me
Take all that I have
Take my life
It means everything I am, everything I was, everything I will be
It's all yours
Take my life
It means surrender
Absolute surrender
Take my life
It means it's honestly not yours anymore
That you can't make your own decision anymore
Because it's not yours to live for yourself
Take my life
It's the strongest phrase I think we use
yet it's severly underrated
Take my life
We sing it in songs and then forget what we said
Live like we always did
Take my life
Take my life
I want to mean it for real
I'm really surrendering
Take my life
I'll be the one to lay it down
I finally know Jesus what I mean when I say
Take my life
poem by David Knox
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Not Filled With Depictions Of Angst
There are those who state,
My writing for them is not 'ethnic' enough.
It is not filled with depictions of angst!
Or emotionally committed to keep attached,
To that sought embittered foaming at the mouth.
Like others who look about to remain,
In limitations.
And I have never sought to make excuses,
To live a life I've been blessed to be given.
And many who are disappointed by their existence...
I've never felt cursed to be denied by those wicked.
Those wishing to sell me negativity!
I don't keep myself sold on that.
I've never wished to use my ethnicity...
As a means to gain sympathy,
With beliefs to accpet I was born subservient.
And to this day I can not perceive,
To whom subservient I would be.
I've never invested my time to accept...
'I am better than you are business.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Delivered To A Place That Dispenses Wings
Let's not carry on our backs,
Accepted agonies anticipated.
Let's take steps to rid ourselves,
Of those deficiencies...
We were led to believe,
Were birth marks to confirm...
As inspected.
And told they'd be there with us,
For the rest of our lives.
With a tolerance of them...
While others kept us suppressed.
As we continue to solicit,
A disrespecting done of our identities.
There is a need to awaken,
From this mental disease.
Let's not carry on our backs,
Accepted agonies anticipated.
Let's take steps to rid ourselves,
Of those deficiencies...
We were led to believe,
Were birth marks to confirm...
As inspected.
Well...
They are not,
Brandings of birth marks.
They are implications we kept...
With an expectation,
That one day if we stayed praying...
We would be delivered to a place,
That dispenses wings!
Dieing is a process!
Living the gift of life is a determination...
Some have refused to do,
Without the approval of acceptance.
From those sought to impress.
And if anyone has a need to ask,
To live a life that has been divinely given...
A praying done,
Is an unconscious routine.
Much like feeding an expectation,
That does not with 'intention' connect to the 'source'...
Through the doing of the process of living one's life!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Is Clear You Are Not Pleased
The moment you let go,
Of what you believe is discreet.
With a keeping to yourself,
Secrets you wished not to be leaked.
You will discover others...
Who once sought to stay unexposed,
Lonely and undercover.
And for what reason?
To obviously treat yourself with treason?
Or become the last...
To pretend you live a life of happiness,
When your sad approach to living,
Is based on beliefs long passed.
The moment you let go,
Of what you believe is discreet.
With a keeping to yourself,
Secrets you wished not to be leaked.
You will discover others...
Who once sought to stay unexposed,
Lonely and undercover.
And for what reason?
It is clear you are not pleased.
With yourself...
Or anyone else who now accepts a life of ease.
You know...
Tension and uptightness free?
Maybe this is what you don't know that shows!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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For Many Life's Road
For many life's road is uphill all of the way
From the moment they are born till their very last day
They know what it is like to know of poverty
To make do on little their life's destiny
I feel that good luck in life has been with me
I never was homeless or a refugee
I never did go to bed hungry at night
For many life it is a much tougher fight
You do not have to go far poor people to meet
There are so many of them on Poverty Street
From where they live 'tis a long road to renown
Their ill luck to be born on the poor side of the town
For to live as a pauper is something most would not choose
Yet in life for one to win many have to lose.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Pre-Conditioned
Most of us,
Have been pre-conditioned...
To find good jobs.
Odd or not...
But that job sought,
We eventually got!
Instead of creating them.
Most of us,
Had been in that position.
And pre-conditioned...
To look for something already there.
Without paving a path with motivation.
Hoping what we did...
Secured us for years,
And would last!
Passing along that abstraction,
To our 'kids'.
Most of us...
Seek approval from some.
To find out from them,
If they accept what we've done.
Most of us...
Live lives confused.
And sit to await...
For that sacrifice to be appreciated.
With a love developed to sing the blues...
Feeling distraught and sometimes used.
And others who seem to fulfill their dreams...
Are often the ones who come to stun,
Some,
Who complain nothing for them changes.
Becoming strangers...
Even to themselves.
While those of us stay pre-conditioned,
To superstitions and beliefs.
And tied religiously,
With pleas to relieve us from sorrow and grief.
Fixed in prayer,
And down on our knees.
Stuck without movement...
As if sealed,
In concrete!
Hoping God...
Will bestow upon us our desires!
With His understanding...
We are obedient as we sit.
To observe a miracle!
And demanding He delivers it.
Leaving God to wonder what it is,
We wish.
Since He has not seen,
Any evidence of those on their knees...
Applying any elbow grease,
And/or working towards it!
Whatever it is that is wished.
Knowing His creations are here to benefit.
With the aid of His assistance.
And He too waits...
To see who takes the initiative!
And most of us,
He knows.
Just don't get,
This process.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If life means..
If life means path of obstecles,
I'll conquer them all
If life means seasons of challenge
I'll accept them all
If life means road of ups & down
I'll enjoy them all
If life means smiling when get hurt
I wont let my tears to fall
If life means giving and forgivng
I'll remit the mistakes of all
If life means realizing ones dreams
I wont compromise at all
If life means to live lively
I'll live it with you all
If life means being kind and good
I'll be generous to all
If life means your dreams, your life and you
I'll shine them all………….
TARA
Will shine always…..
poem by TARA.. Star
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