Whatever It Takes To Participate
Fed to greed.
That's it.
Not to solicit with a consciousness,
To correct with a higher learning...
A resolving of any conflicts that today exists!
Fed to self indulge.
Spend and waste.
Whatever it takes,
To participate.
And the later time gets,
To correct what misfits...
Minds will find they are addicted,
To whatever it is that keeps them unfit.
Fed to greed.
That's it.
Not to solicit with a consciousness,
To correct with a higher learning...
A resolving of any conflicts that today exists!
And the later time gets,
To correct what misfits...
Minds will find they are addicted,
To whatever it is that keeps them unfit.
Fed to self indulge.
Spend and waste.
Whatever it takes,
To participate.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Politically Correct
If you sing out Baa Baa Blacksheep,
It will have a terrible effect,
Who tells us that this song is bad,
The Politically Correct.
Enter our country illegally,
Then show us no respect,
Will we send you straight back, no,
It's not,
Politically Correct.
We're told not to smack our children,
As their minds it will affect,
That is why they run amok,
Thanks,
The Politically Correct.
If you have a criminal mind,
Then join a violent sect,
We won't hold this against you,
We're,
Politically Correct.
If you break in to a house or bank,
Your booty to collect,
We'll put you up if you get caught,
That's,
Politically Correct.
If you're addicted to illegal drugs,
We'll rush in to protect,
We'll say you are a poor wee soul, why?
It's,
Politically Correct.
You can take cocaine and smoke your hash,
Illegal drugs you can inject,
We're not allowed to stop you because,
It's not,
Politically Correct.
If you say Shhhh! Black or White,
Then I'm afraid you can expect,
To be told you're out of order by,
The Politically Correct.
How dare you celebrate Christmas,
That's a time we must all reject,
All Christians are now redundant,
Who says?
The Politically Correct.
We must now rewrite our history,
Our past must now be checked,
We cannot say we won the war,
It's not,
Politically Correct.
Politicians the world over,
Have their fiddles go unchecked,
Why? Because they make the rules,
They're,
The Politically Correct.
Terrorists murder ever day,
On our system this does reflect,
Are we allowed to hang them, no,
We must be,
Politically Correct.
If we try to deport these murdering scum,
We're told we must not neglect,
The fact we're placing them in danger,
That's not,
Politically Correct.
If we hurt their feelings and make them cry,
We must forget those lives they wrecked,
Try to be understanding,
It's,
Politically Correct.
We spend millions on interpreters,
But we're not allowed to object,
We can't force them to speak our dialogue,
Say,
The Politically Correct.
The government now want to seek me out,
I know now that I must defect,
For what I've put in writing's not,
‘' Politically Correct''
If That Is Done Now
Today...
Be aware of time,
As it is now.
Be conscious and forgiving,
Of what is done.
As if you have only one opportunity...
To escape, correct or ignore what takes place.
Tomorrow...
Be aware of time,
As it is now.
Be conscious and forgiving,
Of what is done.
As if you have only one opportunity...
To escape, correct or ignore what takes place.
Yesterday...
Wasting it wishing,
You had been more conscious...
Is why you have today.
There is always time to mend and correct...
If that is done now!
Since there is no other time like it is right now.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Would You Like to Participate With Us
Would you like to participate with us,
During our global meditation?
Many of us are striving for a higher consciousness!
And we are going to do this the first of the year.
At 12noon!
'Excuse me?
A higher what?
Consciousness.
Oh, I'm conscious all right.
Ain't nuthin' wrong with my mind!
Naw...
Ya'll go 'head with that mess!
Since...
That's yo thing not my thing and my thing ain't yo thing.
And you and them that do those things think ya'll all that!
Well..
My feet is on the Earth,
And I ain't got time to waste on nonsense!
I ain't 'bout to raise 'nuthin' no time soon!
I ain't got time to waste on that! '
So, that is a no?
'That's yo thing not my thing and my thing ain't yo thing.
And you and them that do those things think ya'll all that!
You better come down to Earth and be real! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When a Consciousness Begins to Lift
When a consciousness begins to lift...
To leave behind foolishness that exists.
There seems to be an acceptance of it.
As if one realizes,
A birth has been committed.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
A release of limitations,
Easily takes a shift.
No longer is one concerned,
About winning conflicts with enemies burned.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
It becomes easier to observe,
Those disturbed and their afflictions addicted.
Enjoyed and unrestricted.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
It is best to rest.
And let it accept the truth,
That comes with it.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
Expect a shock and some loneliness.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
Those experiencing this,
Are left to feel estranged!
Alienated,
From that...
Which one had thought,
Was sane!
When a consciousness begins to lift...
Enjoy it as a gift.
Unveiling an abundance of understanding.
Connecting a peace that can be reached.
With a wish to share and treat.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
From those taught they should live,
With lives accepted in self defeat!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Typographical Errors
Typographical errors,
I try to avoid.
Some I leave,
To create their own noise.
And something suspected,
To be out of place...
Usually gets more attention,
Than something correct...
One wishes to say.
And there are times it takes me,
All day to imperfect what is correct.
Especially if I want to emphasize,
My own perfection has defects.
I know! I know, that's hard to believe...
That I would take 'all' day to imperfect what is correct.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Thick At that! ...And Glossy!
How much admitted,
Actually exists?
If you talk about someone
In a negative light,
What makes that which is expressed,
Alright to dance on gossip licked lips?
Thick
At that...
And glossy!
How much admitted,
Actually exists?
We know of no one's true feelings,
But our own.
No conflicts inflicted will be felt,
With a depthness known,
No one knows...
Who's in bed with who,
And who is left alone.
But there is no stopping,
Having a fling or two
With someone new.
Who knows what to do,
With a stiffened bone!
How much admitted,
Actually exists?
How much has been changed
To arrange point of views,
By those who discreetly
Do what they do!
How much admitted,
Actually exists...?
Has driven misfits
To even more exposure.
And Rod Sterling has passed...
To worlds beyond Twilight Zones.
And he was very comfortable,
With discussing 'possibilities'!
If it is worthy to admit
Situations believed to be unfit...
One must sit and evaluate,
Being in someone's business not theirs...
How much actually exists?
And whoever committed an admission...
Please admit it!
So we can move 'that hell',
Away from here and us.
And perhaps that 'thick-and-glossy' act
Has been given to attract minds,
Off course!
And all the time.
Will be chased to another place.
And heads here can begin to erect first,
With perception.
Instead of inflated egos wishing to sweat.
How much admitted,
Actually exists?
Well that all depends
On how well the re-enactments
Are delivered in a heightened freshness!
And the staleness is forgiven,
Of prior performances claimed.
Thick at that,
And glossy had more rumors to spread.
That's how she kept her lips supple!
And prepared to use if she had to!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Confrontations
Not into confrontations.
Especially with those
With nothing more than hollowness to share!
I'm on a flight to seek a higher consciousness.
To expand a vision...
Clearly not with
Those who enjoy sitting,
And exchanging twisted affairs...
Solicited and dared!
Not into confrontations.
Or molestations of my thoughts!
I want to comprehend,
More of this life I am blessed to be given.
I've lived with conflicts and emotional misfits...
Who sat around nitpicking in backbiting fits.
And that is not the trip for me I wish!
Not into confrontations.
Especially with those
With nothing more than hollowness to share!
I might participate...
But I am not one to attempt to bait,
For an opinion of someone else...
To induce continued ignorance!
Or become intimidated...
By those who chose to defend,
A limitation that is comfortable for them...
To use and abuse,
As if adrift on a ship with losers!
With choices there but few they choose.
Not into confrontations,
Or boring conversations...
That offer nothing to uplift,
The curiousity of my consciousness.
I want to expand,
And not just in limits am I here to exist!
I'd rather be with those who 'see' this,
And 'get it'!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Some Folks Find That Comforting
Anyone who tries to correct,
What they have already done...
Should be applauded for making the attempt.
Somehow my experiences,
Have assisted in my acquiring this philosophy...
I'm not going to spend a minute trying to correct,
What I have done.
It has been done.
However...
I will do the best I can,
To be more conscious of that which I am doing...
In the moment I am doing it,
As to not to wish to make changes,
To that which I've already done.
If in the doing of 'that' was a possibility.
In other words,
I am not living to make excuses for myself.
Some folks find that comforting.
I don't.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Postmodern Light
If you don't support ‘progress’
You're not politically correct
Though often it is pure foulness
A perfect product of the imperfect.
If you believe in freedom
Yes, you're politically correct
But one's liberty is another's serfdom
Power in the hand of the elect.
If you're not a feminist
You're not politically correct
So do not swing your fist
Even when you are erect.
Your values and tradition
Are politically correct, perhaps,
If your divorces keep going on
Imbued with other family mishaps.
If you're not a ‘postmodern’
You're not politically correct
So just raise high your lantern
And irradiate for stage effect.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Before I Know It
I just can not do it.
Nor can I sit back,
To have it seen done.
I am not addicted,
To being politically correct.
And today as far as politics goes...
Everything political is affecting those upset.
I am a writer, a poet...
And I've been known to wear a few creative hats.
But I can't sit back and deceive anyone.
Not even if they are accustomed,
To a way of life that is attached to that.
I just can not do it.
Nor can I sit back,
To have it seen done.
And negotiating,
With others...
Whose minds are made up!
Is totally out of the question!
And before I know it...
I've offended someone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Keep Protected and Intact
What's found socially acceptable,
And academically correct.
Has changed in its effective etiquette.
And has been dissected as suspect.
A higher state of consciousness,
Has arrived in minds to detect...
An awareness intentionally hidden...
Discovered by nonbelievers,
Who now 'see' and are upset.
Yet...
Their fantasies they wish to keep,
Protected and intact.
They wish to keep these fantasies,
Living to breathe as facts.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Not Everyone Is Polarized
Not everyone is polarized,
In disguising of their racist and bigoted fits.
It is those with the smallest percentage,
Who declare they represent the interests...
Of the majority of people,
Who resent the attempts made...
To solicit divisions to keep a society,
Split into pieces as if this has benefits.
And those who are adapting,
To have none of this...
With a higher consciousness,
Are the ones perceived to be misfits...
With voices that are silenced,
By those on the left AND right...
Doing their best to protect their dim-witted insights.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In The End
Everyday and in many ways,
Our lives lived is another test to pass.
Like a taking of a quiz.
With answers heard that are daily given,
For a patience to wait to escape from reality.
And every few years people solicit...
With expensive campaigns,
In the supporting of a leader politcally correct...
Who will correct those sorrows and pains,
To remain us all who benefits and gains.
And in the end,
We get more accustomed...
To the bending of our backs,
With complaints of who is not delivering...
That accepted touch that does not affect delusions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Feasting In Dubai
Mile high structures soon to be built.
A quality of life free of strife.
With a peace on Earth...
Those affording it can buy!
A love of life finds it quite right.
For those feasting in Dubai.
No conflicts sit in this paradise.
Those enjoying it,
Discover themselves...
Experiencing a higher consciousness.
One who wonders no longer questions 'Why'?
A quietness restricted to those misfit.
Will not be permitted...
Or know that this today exists!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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That Is Not the Diet We Are Fed
It would be wonderful to recognize our failings,
And immediately correct them.
Or face the truth and deal with our insecurities.
But we are suspended within mentalities to react,
Too quickly!
We are prepared to defend such conditions...
We find ourselves in,
Much too fast!
Offended we are and preconditioned to attack,
And not listen.
Becoming less respected because we disrespect.
For purposes that generate a reflected unhappiness.
Handed down from one generation to the next.
To annoint our fears to the innocent.
Hardening their hearts before they are ready to speak.
And when someone is 'intentionally' like this,
Who cares how the bleeding is done?
Or how it has come to manifest.
Why bother to empathize with this stubbornness?
One in which an attraction for habitual lies,
Cries foul constantly to themselves in active denial.
Taught to whine and complain.
Why commit to be placed on trial by nitwit misfits...
Socially unfit?
Where is the benefit of it in this process?
Tied to become unified with an ignorance...
That desires to incite conflict.
And resisting the agony,
That comes with enticing more of it!
It would be wonderful to recognize our failings,
And immediately correct them.
But that is not the diet we are fed!
And we even get upset...
When placing an order for fast food to infect us,
That it does not come fast enough to do it...
Upon command.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Everything Today Is In a Collective Bin
What is the argument?
And why are those hidden sentiments...
Trying to find a purpose.
That attracts to their past actions.
Everything today is in a collective bin.
The selfish can not see it,
Because of the mindsets they've lived in.
A greed has intoxicated them into beliefs...
Everything they've gotten,
Has not been produce by those...
They've disregarded and forgotten.
What is the argument?
And why are those hidden sentiments...
Trying to find a purpose,
To regurgitate from an hypnosis done.
That has enraged the minds of the blinded ones!
Everything today is in a collective bin.
The selfish can not see it,
Because of the mindsets they've lived in.
A greed has intoxicated them into beliefs...
Everything they've gotten,
Has not been produce by those...
They've disregarded and forgotten,
Just to indulge themselves in entertaining whims.
Not caring about others...
But them, them, them!
They wish to conquer and win.
But what?
Is the argument?
And from where was this insecurity fed?
That jeopardizes a security,
To bring upon their chosen soil...
Blood donated and shed!
'They fight to incite their on insanity,
Without consciousness or insight.
To where would they flee...
When the poisons have worn off,
Of their bitter thoughts.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sonnet: God Is the Most Perfect Judge
What happens to the man who flogs people?
What punishment awaits the man who hangs?
What happens to the judge who’s culpable?
What happens to the one who prisoner bangs?
Is torture correct to get at the truth?
Is he correct to shoot criminals to death?
What can be done to drug-addicted youth?
What shall be done to one who cuts one’s breath?
What happens to the practicing harlot?
What happens to the one who sells his wife?
What happens when you kill self due to debt?
What happens when you take away kin’s life?
The perfect judge is God who judges fair!
He knows our part in every act, threadbare.
poem by John Celes (2000)
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Concepts Concrete
On my shoulder was a chip!
Growing to aggrevate others,
As I lived with it.
But learned I did to let it go.
My burdens were mine...
And I could not define them.
Nor could I let others know!
There was a pain I could not show.
Doing my best to hide it.
Deny and alone defy it!
Until a glow of light released me,
Above and beyond...
The agony inside me for years that went on!
To orbit and look upon my own imperfections.
With a power to inspect and correct them.
I knew my conflicts then were self inflicted.
Chaos was an option.
I had become addicted!
This is 'all' I knew.
Many like me believe,
They have to prove 'something'!
Or to grieve in sorrows received.
And I asked myself...
Are my concepts concrete?
And come from God?
I did not find it odd...
There was no response to ponder!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Element of the Task
The need for them to see and do...
To correct what should have been done,
Has passed.
Greed was the agenda that fed and lasted.
And allowed to feed this sickness with,
The aid of loans and rich taste.
Quickly supplied to those who qualified...
For the issuing of good credit.
Raising the noses of those who lived off plastic.
That's how drastic this need became,
To gobble them and their selfish whims.
And now little of it is bearly there for them to sniff a whiff!
As every leader representing them knew...
The ticking of the clock hid a bombshell about to drop!
Is Bin Laden a part of this deception too!
A creation schemed by the flawed minds of a few?
The need for them to see and do...
To correct what should have been done,
Has passed.
Is this yet another strategic,
Element of the task?
Too many in the White House laugh.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Smearing
Reporting distortion,
And smearing one's name.
To gain and claim a personal fame...
Does not undo the shame of it.
Nor correct the affects that exists.
Arguments between classes,
To produce an opinion from the masses...
Is a fact of life,
For those who cling onto deceit and spite.
And delivers to the innocent,
Actions done without defense.
Whether edited to correct or not...
A suffering is experienced,
At one's expense to be expected not to stop.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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