When Vanity Becomes One's Face
Unfortunately,
When vanity becomes the face...
Of one parading that around others.
A charading done that has taken place,
Becomes the accepted familiarity.
And when the time does come,
For that one to reveal underneath a mask...
Worn to masquerade reality.
What is seen is regarded as fake.
Leaving one without choices or options to make.
Unfortunately...
When vanity becomes the face,
Of one parading that around others.
A charading done that has taken place,
Becomes accepted familiarity.
When vanity becomes one's face,
Escaping these presentations...
Is difficult to erase to replace with truth.
Since deceivers only deepen,
A distrusting of them and whatever they do.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There is No Place Like Home
Not being themselves,
Or feeling the need they can be
Is difficult today,
For those who have charaded.
And afraid to reveal a true face.
Opinionated from behind masks,
They have hidden tasks and agendas.
With pretentions more accepted,
By those who have adapted
To false identities from safe,
Although fake
Places.
So difficult it is today,
For those to charade.
And
For those who have charaded,
With feelings fake that are fading
There is,
No place like home.
There is no place like home.
There is no place like home.
There is no place like home.
Once 'home' has been felt,
With a comfort known
From within!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Masquerade
Im here , laying underneath
But there is nothing left to say
You slowly went your way from me
Felt your softness fade away
Who am I ?
To make you stay
Oh , here we go again
Entering the masquerade
This is the place
Dreams will shatter
Cover your face and care no more
She dont care no more
These narrowed eyes I dont know
Nothing is there behind
The mask you wear
Now it feels so unreal
Cold as ice
This face I see
Masquerade , masquerade
Let me out
Masquerade, masquerade
Care no more
Masquerade
She dont care no more
Masquerade, masquerade
Let me out to save her
song performed by by Xymox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh Vanity
Oh vanity oh vanity
You only like to read
About beauty
Little about pain
Or hateful disdain
Am I so vain
Am I so shallow
To refuse a
Dark place to go
I'll lend a hand
To those in need
I'll give my love
While looking up
Is this not positivity
Not vanity
poem by Harriet James
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Vanity Kills
Have you heard the latest? (you love you)
Have you seen who just walked in (vain vain vain vain)
(uh huh, you love you) right over there
Shes so vain vain vain vain
Vain vain vain vain
Im glad youve found someone who loves you
But sad to say that someone is you
And now perhaps youll both be happy
Guess that makes two just you and you
Someone who cares so much about you
But does that someone have to be you
Bom bom bom bom bom bom bom bom yeah
Bom bom bom bom bom bom bom bom yeah
Vanity kills, it dont pay bills
Vanity kills, you love you
Vanity kills, it dont pay bills
Vanity kills, it kills
So glad I found you glancing in the mirror
Gazing deeply at loves patron saint
Admire the frame, survey the scenery
Or are you just inspecting the paint
Temptations strong modestys so weak
High on yourself humble you aint
Bom bom bom bom bom bom bom bom yeah
Bom bom bom bom bom bom bom bom yeah
Vanity kills, it dont pay bills
Vanity kills, you love you
Vanity kills, it dont pay bills
Vanity kills, you love you
Vanity kills, it dont pay bills (no way)
Vanity kills, you love you
Vanity kills, it dont pay bills
Vanity kills, it kills
So vain, vain vain vain
You love you (yeah)
Give it, give it us, give it us
So vain, so vain, so vain
Vanity kills, it dont pay bills
Vanity kills, you love you
Vanity kills, it dont pay bills
Vanity kills, you love you
Vanity kills, it dont pay bills
Vanity kills, you love you
Vanity kills, if the blast dont get you
Then the fallout will
You love you
song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Permanently Affixed
Too many people seek distractions.
Hoping facts never to face.
Praying for a deceit that fits.
Too many people seek attractions.
With a hope to distract facts,
That someday from them will be erased.
And those masks worn to replace,
Faces charading become permanently...
Affixed.
Leaving distacted faces masked,
Never again to face facts with hopes...
Delusions will never from them be erased.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Treading Lightly
I lather up all my memories
and shave my face at its edges
utilizing blade and steel
to cut tiny hair stalks
away
underneath to
reveal
a new me
with perhaps also
tiny blood stains
etched into that new face
and braced
in the mirror-glow
I look at the new me
there
making my daily vow
to make the newly-shaven me
shine this day
better than yesterday
and I part the new day
with the sideways slant
I recognize as my smile
and conclude
sure each day
someone
or something
has given me morning sun
to do something with.
And all my doubts fly
and I say
'whatever that can be will be'
as I close my mirror vanity
leaving through the door
to venture out
to the day's destiny,
treading lightly
in the morning
misty sun.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Have pride and vanity
Service and sacrifice can be the base
For your pride and not your caste or creed.
Have pride that you have helped someone rise
And not that you have conquered someone.
Pride is that one feels about oneself high.
Show vanity for your simplicity;
Show not vanity for your affluence.
Show vanity for your affinity;
Show not vanity for your elegance.
Vanity is that one shows oneself high.
11.07.208
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Attributes
Tears of sorrow and tears of joy,
Highly recommended to overcome your broken heart;
However, some people put the best outside while,
Others put the best inside! !
Vanity upon vanity!
And like the muse of a Virgin Park and a Virgin River;
But to conduct s surveillance on my mind is like,
Knowing the number of the bones and sinews in me.
He's got my face and my light!
She's got my blues and my light,
You've got me muse and my light,
They've got my work and my light;
But, don't let the steps you make with your sole hurt your soul.
First time with the story and second time around with my attributes!
But, the desire of my love is replayed again and again;
And this very stone shall be the head of this place.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Night Will Soon Be Lost
THE NIGHT WILL SOON BE LOST
The night will soon be lost
Another night of so many already gone
Who knows how many left?
I have seen far more nights
Than I will ever see again
Mostly it’s done
I have some nights left
But not so many
That I should waste it wholly
On frivolity
I’ll try now
To write a poem down
So this night
Will not have been wholly in vain
But who knows
Vanity of vanity of vanity
Perhaps for all nights and all poems- vanity
I am writing this poem down nonetheless
It flows as if it knows it has real life within it
I don’t know now how long this night will last
Or how many nights I have left
I have written a poem
Will G-d save it as if it were not vanity to vanity?
I do not know.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Take Vanity Away
Oh take vanity away from me.
Make pure only my heart.
For vanity takes away from me
the most important part.
Let him that sees me, see past my form
and concentrate on my soul.
For that is of my body
is never the starring role.
What lies within the strength of my mind
is what should be possessed,
not the image I show to you,
not the way I'm dressed.
For outward appearance cannot compare
to the inner beauty inside.
Please let vanity be cast away
and take away my pride.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Escaping Through A Defense
They wish to monitor,
The ones who are open...
With an honesty expressed.
While those dressed in masquerade,
Charading!
Are the ones escaping,
Through a defense...
To cause them heartbreaking.
Making fools of those who choose to abuse,
Themselves.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Did We Get Here?
Some people will go to the extreme,
To get an attention...
Even if the getting of it,
Demeans acceptable standards meant.
And degrades what is valued with intent.
To then dress in costume to heighten the event.
Never to know or grown into adulthood.
And those who eventually become selected to be victimized,
Are usually those who closed their eyes...
Believing themselves unaffected by this.
While innocently allowing the ones to select and pick them,
As dispensable objects to disregard and perform...
Actions to define,
As a sickness a normal mind would not permit.
Then out of the woodwork unsolicited opinions come.
From those intellectual to separate themselves from those,
Created from the same fabric.
'But...
How did we get here? '
~Charading and afraid,
To reveal a parading of masquerades.
With a cherising to protect pretentions made.
And finding it acceptable to mask what is inevitable!
'Seriously...
How did we get here? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If I Could Only Bear My Own Silence
IF I COULD ONLY BEAR MY OWN SILENCE
If I could only bear my own silence
If I could only be quiet and still
If I could only let the world say itself
Without my commentary,
If I could only be wise enough
To know all my words
‘Vanity of vanity of vanity.
’
Oh again and again and again
As now
I must say that I am -
But in this world of billions now
And billions more before
And billions more after
Why me?
Why my name?
‘Vanity of vanities’
All aloud again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Have Become Lazy In My Old Age
I HAVE BECOME LAZY IN MY OLD AGE
I have become lazy in my old age
I find it hard
To ‘screw my courage to the sticking place’-
I want to wander and dream-
It somehow seems less important
To do, to make, to achieve
To get somewhere
To make my name great-
Vanity of vanities I tell myself
It will all be vanity –
And yet my conscience says:
If God has given me more time than most
What right have I to waste it?
And what too do I give
To the work of the years
Half- done-
Needing correction.
‘Focus make the good fight’ My Conscience says-
But I escape and dream another small poem-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Complaints Return Upon Themselves
THE COMPLAINTS RETURN UPON THEMSELVES
The complaints return upon themselves
There is only old age under the sun.
Vanity of vanity of vanities
I am the greatest vanity of all.
Even the morning light
That usually wakes my soul
Cannot break the dim foreboding
Of Hell on the horizon.
I will die
I will go down
I know.
But my People
This Land
Will You Save us?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Will Never Be Accepted As A Replacement
To locate those more qualified,
To sweep away and hide...
Lives accustomed,
To criticize others...
Yet deny they pride a taste,
For the slime side of life?
This search is going to take,
A face to face with reality.
And a stripping of a masquerade.
Needless to say...
That will never be accepted,
As a replacement for an addicting charade.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nothing so soothes our vanity as a display of greater vanity in others; it make us vain, in fact, of our modesty.
quote by Louis Kronenberger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Comfort of Familiarity
The comfort of familiarity,
Should not give some license
To disrespect openly!
Or disregard others living lives,
As they choose their lives to be.
Who gave who rights to be the mortgagor
And the mortgagee of this 'property'!
The comfort of familiarity,
Imposes on those with opinions expressed.
To feel accepted by a few,
Many drool to impress.
Dressed they seek with pretentions shown,
Just to be suppressed by intentions known!
The comfort of familiarity...
Looks for similarity to address!
To produce annoying conflicts enjoyed,
By those addicted to live with unrest!
Instead of encouraging themselves...
To live no less than their best!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Anne Allen
The wind blew keenly from the Western sea,
And drove the dead leaves slanting from the tree--
Vanity of vanities, the Preacher saith--
Heaping them up before her Father's door
When I saw her whom I shall see no more--
We cannot bribe thee, Death.
She went abroad the falling leaves among,
She saw the merry season fade, and sung--
Vanity of vanities the Preacher saith--
Freely she wandered in the leafless wood,
And said that all was fresh, and fair, and good--
She knew thee not, O Death.
She bound her shining hair across her brow,
She went into the garden fading now;
Vanity of vanities the Preacher saith--
And if one sighed to think that it was sere,
She smiled to think that it would bloom next year!
She feared thee not, O Death.
Blooming she came back to the cheerful room
With all the fairer flowers yet in bloom--
Vanity of vanities the Preacher saith--
A fragrant knot for each of us she tied,
And placed the fairest at her Father's side--
She cannot charm thee, Death.
Her pleasant smile spread sunshine upon all;
We heard her sweet clear laughter in the Hall--
Vanity of vanities the Preacher saith--
We heard her sometimes after evening prayer,
As she went singing softly up the stair--
No voice can charm thee, Death.
Where is the pleasant smile, the laughter kind,
That made sweet music of the winter wind?
Vanity of vanities the Preacher saith--
Idly they gaze upon her empty place,
Her kiss hath faded from her Father's face--
She is with thee, O Death.
poem by Edward Fitzgerald
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The Dream Land
I
To think that men of former days
In naked truth deserved the praise
Which, fain to have in flesh and blood
An image of imagined good,
Poets have sung and men received,
And all too glad to be deceived,
Most plastic and most inexact,
Posterity has told for fact;
To say what was, was not as we,
This also is a vanity.
II
Ere Agamemnon, warriors were,
Ere Helen, beauties equalling her,
Brave ones and fair, whom no one knows,
And brave or fair as these or those.
The commonplace whom daily we
In our dull streets and houses see,
To think of other mould than these
Were Cato, Solon, Socrates,
Or Mahomet or Confutze,
This also is a vanity.
III
Hannibal, Cæsar, Charlemain,
And he before, who back on Spain
Repelled the fierce inundant Moor;
Godfrey, St. Louis, wise and pure,
Washington, Cromwell, John, and Paul,
Columbus, Luther, one and all,
Go mix them up, the false and true,
With Sindbad, Crusoe, or St. Preux,
And say as he was, so was he,
This also is a vanity.
IV
Say not: Behold it here or there,
Or on the earth, or in the air.
That better thing than can be seen
Is neither now nor e’er has been;
It is not in this land or that,
But in a place we soon are at,
Where all can seek and some can find,
Where hope is liberal, fancy kind,
And what we wish for we can see,
Which also is a vanity.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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