When I Discovered My Given Name
When I discovered my given name 'is' Lawrence...
(Named after my father.
Who on 'his' birth certificate says Lawrence 'A'.
And I'm suppose to be a junior with no 'A' attached.
Go figure!)
...and not 'Larry' as I am still called by family members,
And very close friends.
People who 'knew' me became upset,
When I began calling myself 'Lawrence'.
Saying I thought I was better than the others.
And that I was not 'real' OR down-to-Earth!
'Does this sound a bit crazed?
I wanted to call myself by my 'real' name...
And folks who didn't have my name,
Became upset!
Pure insanity...
Isn't it? '
There's more...
But my parents did not name me Larry.
They named me Lawrence.
And my father everyone called Lawrence...
Decided he was going to be called 'Larry'.
I'm not going to say he was a jealous man.
That's a different story!
And I decided to become as REAL as possible!
Even adopting an African name, Suhuba...
Of the Yoruban language.
Meaning 'laurel' or of the Sun.
And 'that' made some folks furious.
Family members became outraged...
Because I sought 'identity'.
And I was accused of wanting to be 'white'.
These are the same folks who call for unity of all kinds!
But they don't know 'who' they are to unify.
And 'why' or for what!
That's how ignorant some environments,
And the people can be!
Divided into segments of conditioned realities.
God bless 'em!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Poopey PooPoo
My grandmother,
Was not into calling her children
By nicknames.
In fact she once said to my sister...
'I gave my children the names they have!
Each was given with a special meaning.
To identify and dignify that which has been given.'
I often wondered...
Had my sister and I been,
The only ones listening?
With comprehension?
Over the years...
It just appears that way!
Today...
Grown folks are known better by their nicknames.
Than those names given.
Poopey PooPoo. BeBop. Slice and Dice...
BooBoo and Drooper!
What 'energies' have they called upon themselves?
And their children have no idea who their parents are.
Their real names.
Or their purposes.
I remembered when I began calling myself Lawrence...
My birth name.
Lawrence, Junior in fact.
Named after my father.
We were both called Larry at one time.
I decided I would become Lawrence S.
After discovering on my father's birth certificate,
His name was listed as Lawrence A.
And I wanted to be 'AS' much as Lawrence as possible!
Can you guess...
I am between poeticness.
As I share a bit of 'personal-ness'.
Folks got upset!
Guess who smiled?
Clara Louise Countryman Pertillar.
She was very strong and dynamic.
She was pleased to know I was daring!
And the leaves upon the trees,
Begin to bloom in Spring.
As I reminisce those things I miss.
Taking trips back through time.
Those things impressed upon my mind.
And finding me feeling blessed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Happy Birthday Daddy Larry
86 years old,
Today my Daddy Larry...
Would have celebrated on this day.
He and I had a unique relationship.
We weren't particularly close.
And yet,
A closeness existed.
He and I were so much alike.
But he never did scold me,
Since my mother Edna did that...
To keep my steps on a path walking right.
When I was young,
My daddy was called Lawrence.
I was then Larry junior...
With my own presence known.
Then when I became of age,
He wanted to be called 'Larry'.
And I thought, 'How could he do this to me?
Moving in to claim 'my' territory.
I became Lawrence 'S'...
Back in 1971.
And when I discovered on his birth certificate,
He was Lawrence 'A'?
I had not known that up until that day.
And AS I grew...
Knowing my daddy would soon pass away?
I told him I loved him.
And he looked at me as if to say,
'I wish I had more time! '
That was back in 1988,
Days before my Daddy Larry...
Would from us pass away.
And on this day, December 11th 2010...
I miss my daddy very much.
With a more understanding of him,
And who he was.
Feeling his presence is near.
And we are closer now than ever.
Just because...
That is the way it is!
Happy Birthday, Daddy Larry!
Dedicated to the memory:
Lawrence Pertillar, Senior...
My father.
'Miss you, daddy.'
Love,
Lawrence ('Larry') ...lol
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Only Then to Find Myself
When I made a decision
To use the name I was blessed with
Adding a second name that meant exactly
What my first name means in a different dialect...
Folks got upset.
Because I wanted to perfect my identity!
Lawrence S. I was going to be!
People could not pronounce 'Suhuba'.
Thinking it was something like scuba diving.
And when I told them the name was Yoruban.
From true Egyptian/Yoruba tradition...
You would have thought those of colonial understandings,
Had thought I lost my ancestral mind!
I've known who I've been all this time!
I am defined and proud,
To announce my heritage out loud.
Originality?
Being free of subservience,
I imagine that is what is seen in me.
I have an integrity with dignity.
And could care less who is lost in distress.
I was there...
Before I awakened,
To remove someone else's brand!
Only then to find myself...
Disrespected by my own kind,
Whose minds had been completely brainwashed!
And free to think of themselves as insignificant.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Not Afrocentric Enough
Years ago...
They acted as if,
I was an embarrassment to them.
Not Afrocentric enough.
Even though I had identity,
Branded on my 'strut-and-stuff'!
My name, Lawrence Suhuba
Yuroban selected.
Doubling the meaning of my given name.
Suhuba (Lawrence) now Lawrence S.
Proud of my heritage and having no shame!
None to confess.
Today I 'strut' with my stuff all over the internet.
Doing what I've done most of my life.
And that's write.
And I might have been an embarrassment to them then...
But 'them' not feeling comfortable to be who they are now,
Should embarrass them more!
Since having no identity today,
Makes little sense since everything folks have lived for...
To impress with materialism has diminished in value.
And everything they are has been invested in it!
My head is held high...
Most times.
If I am not in deep thought!
And...
I might not have a dime in my pocket.
Most times,
My mind tells me I'm worth millions!
And I look to the ground,
Just to make sure I'm not dropping any of it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Totally In Twilight
Some folks actually insist...
What is going on today,
Isn't going on.
And that we should pray...
To avoid the realities!
There are folks like that...
Totally in twilight!
With minds dimmed.
And a thought process completely off!
And people like me are called heathens...
Because I am against being on my knees,
When the basement of the church is on fire!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nuts' Are All Over The Place!
I'm not going to tolerate anyone's nonsense!
#1...Because I don't have to!
#2...Because I choose not to!
And...
#3...BS and I are not related at all.
So I do not have to pretend there is a bond!
Some folks put up with others just to get along.
'Why can't we 'all' get along? '
Why?
'Cuz one bed will not accomodate all of us,
That's why!
Some like to pout and roll their eyes.
Gossip and backstab.
And they do it to family members AND close friends!
Can you imagine?
And where I live,
Close friends and family members kill themselves...
Over a slice of toast!
Or something else LESS 'urgent'!
Folks are 'nuts'.
Even the squirrels will have nothing to do with them.
And when squirrels are seen turning their backs away...
An investigation is needed.
With an immediate assignment given!
But...
To 'who'?
'Nuts' are all over the place!
I'm not going to tolerate anyone's nonsense!
#1...Because I don't have to!
#2...Because I choose not to!
And...
#3...BS and I are not related at all.
So I do not have to pretend there is a bond!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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From A Racist Point Of View
If I was a white man,
My intelligence...
Would not be considered arrogant.
Nor would I be noticed flaunting my pride.
Or be thought of as a novelty!
But because I am black.
And factually identified with a liking of it.
I am thought to be a fool.
Because I have multiple experiences.
And most folks who like their perspectives kept,
From a racist point of view...
Think all black folks they call niggers are fools.
With a proudness to display their ignorant redneck status.
And being called a cracker they love.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Squeaky Clean and/or Bleeped
Why do folks play childish games to pest?
Those older ones play them,
And should give them a rest.
You would think by the time some one is 55,
They are more interested in being 'real',
Than handing out a bunch of old tired 'jive'.
No wonder the kids have lost all respect.
There are adults who still think,
'They' are the ones breasting feeding home in nests!
There are more mature children than there are grown 'peeps,
These days.
And maybe that's why those accused of being molesters,
Aren't!
When the 'children' are the ones stalking older folks...
And they are the ones who should be charged,
For being the sleazy, sneaking creeps!
The 'real' old people are home alone and jealous...
Seeking ways to get reality,
Squeaky clean and/or bleeped!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Larry L. Graeber........Memorial Address
August 28,1938 - September 3,2012
Delivered
September 25,2012
At
Michael Mondavi Family Estate
Napa, California
I was born and reared in the rolling hills of Southern Illinois. In 1956, after a four-year stint with the Marine Corps I decided to settle in San Francisco. Come the last week of next month, I will have lived in California fifty-six years. Outside my immediate family, the majority of my relatives are still concentrated in Mid-Western States.
I visit them from time to time. Not as often as I should. Still I think of them frequently, and miss them dearly. Those reflective moments always lead me back to those magnificent days of my childhood, where the whole world it seemed knew me simply as the roly poly little boy named Jimmy.
Much has happened since those days of yesteryear. During the intervening decades, death has laid claim to family. My maternal Grandfather, both my parents, and five of my siblings. Faith leads me to believe a spiritual rebirth awaits, and that one day in that sacred future we will all be re-united...bound together...forever. And through that faith I've come to appreciate that death and dying is a necessary passage through which we all must travel. There is reassurance in the realization that death is merely a finality of the body, but not of the spirit. And in that fashion the dead are destined to live on in the memory, ever closer than before. Within that glorious significance dwells the continuum of life itself. For in that divining moment perception does in fact become reality. One afternoon while exploring, and appreciating the depth of this poignant revelation, I was moved in a fit of anguish to compose the following poem: 'Reality says they've passed away...Is not perception reality..for I feel a living presence...as though they stand...right next to me. Those guiding hands...of long ago...so firm against my brow...as strong, yet gentle...as yesterday...is the warmth...that I know now. That legacy of the distant past...still a mighty roar...memories sustain my soul...and on whose wings I soar...reality says they've passed away...silenced in death and then...perception says they're just as close...and real as way back when.'
I was 21 years Robert Mondavi's driver. A time that brought me intense satisfaction, for I found within the Company an extraordinary sense of family. That association with Mr. Mondavi afforded me the opportunity to meet and greet...getting to know, and becoming friends with scores of folks where otherwise life would have simply passed them by.
As the keeper of the Company Limousine, I was assigned on rare occasions the task of driving varied members of senior staff. It was during one such engagement that I met Larry. From time to time I'd chat with him at the office, or maybe during the random encounter somewhere along the street. I learned to appreciate his radiant sense of life, his wit and intellect, his pride of work, and hearing him speak longingly of avid love of family.
A couple weeks ago Anna informed me of Larry's passing. I messaged her back, offering condolences, and shared this personal story...that excluding family, few folks have ever called me Jimmy. Larry was among the few. Not once asking my permission, it was Jimmy from the moment we first met. And from that day forward, the mere sight of Larry approaching, brought with it an intoxicating sense of pure invigorating joy. That very presence returning me ever nearer.....to home.
poem by James B. Earley
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It's a Cartoon
He revealed a cartoon of his birth.
Meant at a conference to be a joke.
Since there had been such a controversy,
If, indeed, he was qualified to lead!
And where he was born,
Had been the focus of 'certain' folks.
However,
Just to be sure those observing knew,
The cartoon was not real...
He thought it was in the best of interest,
To announce to those watching...
What they viewed,
Was in fact...
A cartoon.
And 'not' a real depiction!
'Comeon!
Seriously.
It isn't real.
It 'is' a cartoon.'
Yet...
There they sat.
Some questioning and unconvinced.
Since a few wanted to use it,
As a news broadcast exclusive...
To prove finally there was evidence.
'Honest.
It is a joke.
It isn't real.
The producers of it are in our presence.
And they will confirm what I say is true.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Setting a Precedence
I am not hardly the one,
To play ignorant for fun.
Or become upset,
Over a pettiness done.
Although in some environments,
These acts are witnessed...
As if setting a precedence.
By those in and seeking predicaments!
Those who are the ones conditioned,
To be part of the creation of them!
Those who argue and fight each other...
With an unending quest for a unity to begin.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Indoctrinated Through Ancestry
They are here in droves...
Those me-me-I-I folks.
The ones who have been told they are attractive.
Those with slave mentalities,
And still trying to please their masters.
And I can not say how many folks there are...
Who are afraid to express too much 'identity'.
For fear they will upset someone else's wishes!
And they know what on me they can kiss!
Anyone who has a mind like this!
I'm not having none of it.
There is an addicted sickness inflicted.
Alive and well.
And profiting the few,
Who have so many messed up in their heads!
The more pretentious the folks...
One can find them driven to play charades,
On all coasts.
Wherever they are found 'coasting' and cruising!
It just seems that way.
Those on escapades and away from their identities.
And ready to please.
As if indoctrinated through ancestry!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Heffa
'Don't let me chase you...
Heffa! '
My mother would say this,
Before she did my sister's hair.
And I would sit in a chair...
To watch my sister.
And she would cry and I would stare.
'What you looking at? '
My sister Mimmie would say!
I'm looking at you!
What you gonna do?
'You kids better not start nothing with me.
Hold your head still, girl!
And don't you say another word, Larry! '
I would think to myself...
'Is Mimmie a 'heffa' when she gets her hair done?
Why when I called her that...
She would chase me,
And I would run?
Then my mother would say,
'Would you kids stop that!
Both of you get on my last nerve.
Stop that fighting crap.'
Ma, what is a 'heffa'?
And why is Mimmie one?
Is it the way she looks...
When her hair is undone?
If I called her that,
She wants to fight with me.
Daddy don't call her a heffa.
Why do you...
Exclusively?
My mother would look at me,
As if I was crazed.
I could tell in her eyes,
She was trying for 'something' to say!
I never heard my mother curse.
She didn't have to back then.
But I grew to understand...
'Heffa' was a word,
Black women shared between them!
And my sister Mimmie...
Thought she needed to keep me in 'check'!
And 'if' I didn't leave her alone...
A grown man I would never become or get!
I grew up in a family of very strong willed 'heffuhs'!
Dedicated to:
Those women in my family whom I love dearly.
And I have learned what they say to each other,
And amongst themselves...
Is between them as women!
And they have provided me with 'much' wisdom!
I know now...
What is said 'endearingly' between them,
Is not for a man to repeat!
Even though they can say what they wish,
About us!
'Right, fellas'?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In Their Own Way They Get
I've been called all kinds of ITs and THATs
Throughout my life.
And I remembered being bullied...
By those who have done prison time.
To be released quoting scriptures...
With a sense of being close to God,
Now...
All the time!
But I've always discovered others,
Who pass judgements on family, friends...
And their sisters and/or brothers,
As some of the most insecure people...
Walking the face of the Earth.
They would not know what to do,
If left alone for five minutes.
Or can sit in quietness to pray.
These busy bodies have been spoiled,
To have things go their way.
Until in their own way they get!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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People Who are Ignorant
People who are ignorant,
Have invested valuable time...
And money spent.
To prove their foolishness and ways,
Makes a difference.
Although these folks within their minds,
Have an absence of common sense.
And, are noticeably self destructive and crazed.
People who are ignorant,
Spend every dime spent...
Revealing their incompetence.
And taking direction from those who are right,
Is something they've never done.
Since deceit and decadence has been their main appetite.
People who are ignorant,
Believe an ability to thieve makes them great.
They believe their disasters started,
Shows their expertise and them being able to create.
But people who are ignorant,
Like these folks show they are and can be?
May seek an empathy from others for their stupidity.
But sincerity shown these empty headed 'entities'...
Is a waste of time.
Unless one wishes a suffering done endlessly.
However...
People who are ignorant,
Have been convinced their way of life...
Is one pursued by those who are jealous.
And are threaten because they are envied!
And standards they value,
Reflects upon them in a 'special' light.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I've Heard Those Old Stories Told
'Everything' about me you see...
My Father God,
Has taught to me.
I've heard those old stories told,
About what folks have done...
To make my life easy and comfortable.
Especially told to others who did not know.
And who did what...
When I got myself into ruts.
'God...
I am so glad You know the real deal! '
And I wonder 'who' that might have been?
That came to my aid when I needed them.
Hmmm...
It's true,
I have had folks give me 'things'.
And money loaned I paid back.
I've had people to me make promises.
And I remember every one of them broken...
From the time I was a kid!
Hmmm...
I can't remember anyone,
Motivating my moves!
Only You,
My Father.
I could say my entire life has been spent...
With me doing the giving.
And to a degree that would be true.
Since several people I have known...
Have told lies.
That's all they did and still do.
And I use to listen to a whole lot of BS.
With attempts I made to correct some mess.
Do I now?
No!
'Everything' about me you see...
My Father God,
Has taught to me.
And the biggest lesson I have learned to date?
Do not hesitate in the waiting of others to approve!
You'd be a dried up old prune in the doing.
If you've been blessed with a gift,
You better give it and be done with it!
And let whoever say whatever!
Give folks who gossip some fuel,
To keep their lips moving.
And doing something bizarre...
While you're at it!
Learn to live without restrictions and limitations.
You and your time are not defined by those mindless.
Unless you let it!
Then whose truth do you ultimately live?
It wont be mine because I have my own to live!
Although I do give folks credit where it is due.
Like being witnesses...
To the gifts God has given to me.
That's it!
Anything else folks would like to claim...
Did not occur on my watch.
But I do understand,
Why some folks like to associate themselves...
With those who struggle through and win,
Their battles and conquer over grief!
Thank You God, Almighty!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Soldiers Family Heritage
Every family member had served this nation
He looked forward to it with anticipation
Every member had left their mark
And on this road he would embark.
Members had served since the civil war
It was a desire, not a chore.
With pride and determination he knew
What he had to do.
He had to defend the red, white, and blue.
He decided to try for the navy seals
It was a desire which he did feel.
He had to be the best that he could be
For the honor of his family.
The training for the seals is really hell
After the first week he could tell.
Most of the members of his platoon
Decided to give up much to soon.
This was the biggest challenge that he would face
And his name he would not disgrace.
He thought of his family and what they went through
And he knew what he had to do.
He called and asked his family to come down
And seeing them, new strength he found.
His father held the civil war flag
And for that he was glad.
It had been passed down from generation to generation
And this sight was his salvation.
A new inspiration arose in his chest
And he would give his very best.
The family gave him the strength he would need
For in him they had planted the seed.
he would awake with his mind crystal clear
And achieving his goal he had no fear.
Now he was a navy seal, so much pride he did feel
He had achieved not one goal but two
And of this his family knew.
There is now another generation on its way
And to the lord he does pray
Let this continue down the line
For when it becomes my sons time.
poem by Louis Rams
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Every Hour I Have Is Precious
You said you would be here.
And gave a time when you would arrive.
That time passed.
I did not get upset.
I elected to believe you had other priorities.
Since you did not call me to confirm that!
A week had gone by...
And you left a message on my answering service.
I did not call right away,
Since at the time I had priorities.
I called you when I could.
And when I expressed that...
You believed I was upset!
I was not upset at all.
At least I did call!
I spoke the truth.
I had something else to do!
And you weren't on the agenda!
There is nothing in my life,
I have put on hold...
For anyone to make a decision,
How best to use my time!
Certainly not to play tag!
Every hour I have is precious.
Obviously...
I am the only one that feels that way!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Looking Better Than Ever
How can anyone take you seriously,
When you are not punctual?
This meeting started three hours ago.
And there is not going to be a review,
Just for you.
We are doing our best,
To put unity and family togetherness
At a test.
And it is obvious that 'discipline' is needed,
To proceed with this effort...
If any of us expects success!
Don't show up late as a favor.
Be on time as an obligation!
How can we as a family,
Make attempts to move forward...
If we all decided to go shopping,
To find something new to wear...
Just to look good to make that impression?
When you could have been here on time...
Looking better than ever like everyone else!
Dedicated:
To my huge and tremendous,
brilliantly talented family!
And to other families the world over,
who have come to realize 'tomorrow' is 'now'
for that unity and family togetherness to begin.
'We are going to do this!
AND with you.
So get over 'yo'self'!
There is too much to get done.
And taking time to look gorgeous,
With a radiance that stuns...
Will defeat the process of what has started.
Especially when everyone,
Already looks good enough to eat!
So get over 'yo'self'!
Sit down and let us meet.'
Love you,
Larry
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Effectively
SOME people,
Have such a hatred for those of color.
To the extent of destroying THEMSELVES!
Effectively.
With such a demonic disconnection from humanity,
They will take their revenge out,
On their own friends and family members...
With a public display of insanity.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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