Whetting of Appetites
Once the teaching of feeding greed,
Becomes the feeling of an entitled addicted life...
The concept of sacrifice initiates the starting of a fight.
As a dimming of an insight,
Struggles against the aspects of this vision.
And those who have been fed they have rights to feast,
Will do their best to keep a diminishing of resources...
Flowing as if warnings of an ending that comes,
Is interpreted to mean...
A different chef has been hired with a fresh menu.
And...
Will be making a presentation of a new buffet,
Needing opinion.
With a hopeful collected approval.
And a teasing meant to make the whetting of appetites,
With anticipation...
A delightful surprise for the eyes when it has arrived.
Any other concept that introduces a dwindling of supplies,
Becomes immediately denied as an impending reality.
Since greed and the ending of it has never been fed to accept.
Or the paying of a piper to play individual requests.
When the piper appears no requests are accepted.
The piper appears to get paid.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Piper At The Gates Of Dawn
Piper at the gates of dawn
The coolness of the riverbank, and the whispering of the reeds
Daybreak is not so very far away
Enchanted and spellbound, in the silence they lingered
And rowed the boat as the light grew steadily strong
And the birds were silent, as they listened for the heavenly music
And the river played the song
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The song dream happened and the cloven hoofed piper
Played in that holy ground where they felt the awe and wonder
And they all were unafraid of the great God pan
And the wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
When the vision vanished they heard a choir of birds singing
In the heavenly silence between the trance and the reeds
And they stood upon the lawn and listened to the silence
Of the wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
Its the wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The piper plays his clans lament.Story poem
On cold grey days, a piper plays
his pibroch on the battlements.
Clad in the garb of bygone days.
He proudly plays his clans lament.
From down below he can be seen
but no one knows who he might be
A misty figure on the scene
Bewailing his clan’s history.
The swank young men who fought and died
in foreign wars far from their home
their sacrifice can’t be denied.
He bids their long dead spirits come.
Come back braw lads where ye belong
Ye have been far too long away.
He guides them home a mighty throng.
His bounden duty is to play.
Should you attempt to draw too near
all you will find is empty space.
The piper simply disappears.
No one has ever seen his face.
The locals know and understand
He too is dead another ghost
Who still obeys his last command
a phantom who sticks to his post.
A sight the tourists come to see
and vainly try to photograph.
of course they cannot possibly.
Their efforts make the locals laugh.
On certain days the piper plays
the tourists have to make their choice
Though most arrive on sunlit days
if he appears they will rejoice.
They have more chance on sad grey days
to see the piper through the mist.
the locals know the piper’s ways.
The legend cannot be dismissed.
The experts may explain away
the ghostly figure. which appears.
But can’t account in any way
for the lament which they can hear.
So they pretend it is the wind
a rather silly thing to do.
All experts have a tight closed mind
and can’t accept the story’s true.
I disregard the experts view
for I have seen and I have heard.
and know that others have done too
Expert opinions are absurd.
Why can’t the learned fools accept
the piper’s presence as a fact.
Their explanations are inept.
Forgive me for my lack of tact.
I can forgive stupidity
Ignorance is an excuse.
I state my case with clarity
most experts are of little use
Outside their field of expertise.
I much prefer the locals view
The piper’s visits will not cease
until he has good reason to.
17/06/2009
Http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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For Shrill The Piper Plays His Tune
When thoughts are idle wanderings
Words tumbled round and round
When feelings they turn inwardly
Still I hear the piper's sound.
When happiness is broken
And the Kings and Queens are gone
The piper's tune keeps playing
And I hear his victory song.
For even when awoken
From the sleepiness of time
There's a distant music playing
Heard clear within my mind
For shrill the piper plays his tune
That beckons every day
And when his tune is full played out
He carries us away.
No-one has seen this piper man
And no-one has seen him play
But we all can hear his mournfulness
And fear for what he'll say
No folds of fathered cornfields
And no breaking of the bread
The piper's tune keeps playing
With his words as yet unsaid.
For shrill the piper plays his tune
That beckons every day
And when his tune is full played out
He carries us away.
We can all hear if we but try
The piper's song so sweet
The musings and meanderings
Of souls lost whole complete
No piper plays before we're born
Before we touch the earth
The piper's tunes they all begin
From the moment of our birth.
For shrill the piper plays his tune
Like happiness disease'd
And all the notes that he plays out
Are our moments ill at ease.
Not one of us pays him to play
Nor gives him any score
For every note that he blows out
Is fully paid before
We entertain our wanderings
And confusion in the mind
For the piper's very soul turns out
To be both yours and mine.
For shrill the piper plays his tune
That beckons every day
And when his tune is full played out
He carries us away.
poem by David Keig
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Pay The Piper
There comes a time
when all of us must pay
the piper so they say.
Pay for all the wrongs
credited to our life,
pay for all the things
we should have done,
but never got around to do.
Pay for any hurt we’ve caused
when came to call
and we never did respond.
No one is ever perfect,
we’ve all got our crosses
that we have to bare.
So when it comes to paying
the piper so they say.
I guess we’ll all have to pay.
21 January 2008
poem by David Harris
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Pipe Piper
The Pipe Piper blows a lively tune,
Melody so rich, you will surely swoon,
Through the narrow street and alleyway,
The rat did not come out to play
The cat did come and it did sat
I bet curiosity kills the cat.
Listening, a pair of furry ears,
Piper boy takes away its fears.
An audience of one may not be dandy,
However, the cat will come in handy.
He sends the cat to hunt the pesky rats
They hide in the sewage and in the gaps.
The Pipe Piper work will soon be done,
He and the cat has become one.
Oh! I lost the bet, He didn't kill the cat!
Pibroch Dhu For Jim Hogg
The piper plays his sad lament
Alone upon the bleak hillside.
A bitter hymn of discontent
recalling those who bravely died.
A living breathing testament
to regimented homicide.
The piper plays his sad lament
alone upon the bleak hillside.
This world is not as it was meant
The ten commandments are defied
as warfare rages far and wide.
As in the past and the present.
The piper plays his sad lament.
poem by Ivor .e Hogg
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Better Get Back In Bed
(pied piper)
(Id better get back in bed)
(hope Ill see you again)
(pied piper)
(Id better get back in bed)
(hope Ill see you again)
(pied piper)
(Id better get back in bed)
(hope Ill see you again)
(pied piper)
(Ill be running along)
Thirty seconds after he was in bed
He fell back to sleep
The next morning
He had forgotten all about
What had happened the night before
But when night time came once again
His thoughts somehow found their way back
To remembering the fascinating episode of the night before
He he turned out his bedroom light
And sat in his favorite chair
Thoughts danced in his head for a while
Suppose I went to check and see if my transistor is still down there he
Said I wonder what would happen
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Piper And The Prey
this is how friday ended
a little bit hard to believe
my perception slightly bending
as the piper came on the scene
it was something so hypnotic
the music even changed
the crowd got up and got chaotic
and they paid so they could play
the pied piper played
the pied piper pushed
songs to make them crave
songs that seemed so good
songs that made it easier
songs down in their blood
songs that take, steal the love
until the song has had enough
at first, the dance was hesitant
not long before everyone knew it
the music spun them 'round and 'round
then it pulled the dancers into it
i danced my dance at my own pace
he laughed, knowing i would change
it took all i had in so many ways
saw others dance until they fell on their face
and still the piper played...
the pied piper played
the pied piper pushed
songs to make them crave
songs that seemed so good
songs that made it easier
songs down in their blood
songs that take, steal the love
until the song has had enough
bodies on the floor
unconscious and awake
the piper gave them more;
they took all that he gave
he played a new illusion
while the world began to sway
the dance became delusion
our hearts became the prey
and i danced as he played
and i danced as he pushed
songs that made me crave
songs that seemed so good
songs that made it easier
songs went down in my blood
songs that took, stole all the love
until the song had used them up
until that song had had enough
saturday was forgotten
by closing out the early sun rays
many dancers have fallen
lost, forgotten, thrown away
the music was their everything
but again they stayed to late
the song kept them spinning
dancing into a darker place
giving in without hesitance
hypnotized by the pipe's melody
until all became the song and dance
the piper was the only one to play
the piper and the song had demands
but they'd nothing left to give away
all that was left was the pipe's trance
and the dancer became the slave
the pied piper played
the pied piper pushed
songs that betrayed
songs not to trust
songs that got heavier
songs itching in their blood
songs that demand the dance
until the song has had enough
that was how sunday ended
and it took several years
now the song gets in my head
and sometimes brings me to tears
now i chose to stand so still
not to give in to what i hear
the song can not destroy my will
the song has nothing left i fear
(2008 & 2010, new orleans, la, usa)
poem by Thomas Quentin Sims
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The Piper (#2)
When I'm confused and wandering
On a journey with no end
My feelings they turn in on me
Uncertain who's my friend
It's then the piper plays his tune
That beckons every day
And when his tuned is full played out
He carries us away.
We can all hear if we but try
The pipers song so sweet
The musings and meanderings
Of souls lost whole comlete
No piper plays before we are born
Before we touch this earth
The pipers tunes they all begin
From the moment of our birth.
For shrill the piper plays his tune
Like happiness diseased
And all the notes that he plays out
Are our moments ill at ease
No-one it seems pays him to pay
Nor gives him any score
For every note that he blows out
Is paid for by that war
The one that's fought in solitude
And in that loneliness we find
That the pipers very soul turns out
To be both yours and mine.
For shrill the piper plays his tune
That beckons every day
And when his tune is full played out
He carries us away.
poem by David Keig
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What I Want For You to Do
I am asked to do 'this'.
With a request to do 'that'.
I am even asked to rate a significance...
Upon completing those tasks that I'm asked.
To accomplish every one I get!
Folks could care less when they make requests.
And I can perceive how some are caught up in it!
Believing that an attention given...
Will keep me interested and content!
As if what I do is not a sacrifice.
But comes from a natural 'oozing' done...
From some 'other' source,
That's an outside device.
'And...hmmm,
That could be a possibility.
Now that 'that' has now occurred to me.'
I sometimes will read those requests I get.
But no one has yet to answer my questions...
'What's in it for me?
What do I get?
What do I receive as my benefit? '
Love?
And don't say you'll do for me,
What you've requested me to do!
And yet have I had a delivery,
Of freshly minted one hundred dollar bills.
To pop out of a box over stocked.
Not once!
Besides...
I am more original than that!
I want returned to me...
The time taken away from what I love.
Since it took me quite some time,
To find myself quite in love with it!
And not a response do I get!
Except the usual...
'But you're already doing,
What I want for you to do for me too! '
EXCUSE ME?
And those requests,
Get my silence at its best!
Since I recognize...
There is no shortage or famine,
Of this kind of selfish greed.
From Sunset to Sunrise!
It is as 'if' my eyes are 'theirs'...
And will supply them vision.
With a clarity I can provide.
And if that's the case...
Someone should get me 'booked'
On Oprah!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Suffering From The Exhaustion
Suffering from the exhaustion,
That has eliminated the feeding...
Of their own gluttonous greed,
Is not the fault of those...
Who have been hired to service,
Their needing to feast.
Or those who came to warn,
Of leaner days ahead.
Suffering from the exhaustion,
That has eliminated the feeding...
Of their own gluttonous greed,
Has been self inflicted.
With a sweetened ignorance,
All fed upon to do to choose...
A doing exactly what they pleased.
No matter who was stepped on or over.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dwindling Supplies
If no one else has made attempts,
To what was perceived was there
And did not replenish it.
No one person alone can restore
That which is gone.
And isn't there anymore.
If it was not prioritized,
With an inventory taken of dwindling supplies
No one should be surprise,
The diminishing of it
Has vanished from all eyes.
No one can have what is not given right back.
That is not the way,
A feeding comes to stay.
No one can have what is not given right back.
That is not the way,
A feeding comes to stay.
If it was not prioritized,
With an inventory taken of dwindling supplies
No one should be surprise,
The diminishing of it
Has vanished from all eyes.
That is not the way,
A feeding comes to stay.
If no one else has made attempts,
To what was perceived was there
And did not replenish it.
No one person alone can restore
That which is gone.
And isn't there anymore.
No one can have what is not given right back.
That is not the way,
A feeding comes to stay.
No one can have what is not given right back.
That is not the way,
A feeding comes to stay.
No one can have what is not given right back.
That is not the way,
A feeding comes to stay.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ivy Leaguers Who Cheat
Ivy leaguers who cheat,
To increase their chances of feeding greed...
May deceive,
But...
Don't they reflect a society,
Promoting feasting greed?
Integrity...?
Where is at?
And honesty...?
Where is it at?
Respect has gone.
And that's a fact.
Thieving is on!
And...
Taught when one is born.
Integrity...?
Where is at?
And honesty...?
Where is it at?
Respect has gone.
And that's a fact.
Thieving is on!
And...
Taught when one is born.
Ivy leaguers who cheat,
To increase their chances of feeding greed...
May deceive,
But...
Don't they reflect a society,
Promoting feasting greed?
Thieving is on!
And...
Taught when one is born.
Ivy leaguers who cheat...
Are honored and promoted to feed greed.
This is success for those who seek the best.
No matter if a quality of life...
Bleeds.
Ivy leaguers who cheat...
Are honored and promoted to feed greed.
This is success for those who seek the best.
No matter if a quality of life...
Bleeds.
Integrity...?
Where is at?
And honesty...?
Where is it at?
Respect has gone.
And that's a fact.
Thieving is on!
And...
Taught when one is born.
Ivy leaguers who cheat,
Reflect...
A people who've been taught,
To feed greed.
And feeling they're entitled to feast,
Greed!
And feeling they're entitled to feast,
Greed!
And feeling they're entitled to feast!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Radio King Dom
A few days later the king and queen of the castle were invited to a ball
As they were leaving that evening the queen said to the young prince
Who was the eldest of the children
Take care of the other ones tonight
And dont try to find that radio
We have it hidden away
Well be home by midnight
And then she said goodbye
The childrens mother left
And the party had begun
And the children looked everywhere
High and low
Checking to see if they could find that transistor radio
They couldnt find it they couldnt find it
They looked upstairs and downstairs
All through the castle and finally
All of a sudden they heard a sound
What is that sound is it possible
Could it be the pied piper himself
Coming out of the magic transistor radio
Or was it just the wind whistling by the castle window
No one knows if the mysterious pied piper of night
Was the one who came back to visit the princes and princesses again
But if you have a transistor radio and the lights are all out some night
Dont be very surprised if it turns to light green
And the whirling magic sound of the pied piper comes to visit you
(bow bow)
(Im the pied piper)
(bow bow bow bow bow)
(in the radio)
(bow bow)
(Im the pied piper)
(bow bow bow bow bow)
(in the radio)
(bow bow)
(Im the pied piper)
(bow bow bow bow bow)
(in the radio)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr Piper Is Death
Today the piper is death, he left before now the sweet aroma of our belove model
The arches of our trumpet voices
Today the piper lay waste among garbage
The exit of this departed fellow
Smuggle among the flames only but a rubbles of roasted soya remain of he
Today the sensless crowd went so wild
Today the forest creatures roar in anger
Today they drove him across the sand
Today they deprive him of his flute
Today they mocked him to his ancestors
Today he was humble among the living
Today the nation mourn her piper
Today we scold through pains of exit
The talent lost through this ashes
Mothers lost to rivers of tears
Fathers remorse with pain of exit
For the door of justice still hang on air
The days of our number piper yet among all was his flameless fate
poem by Onoja Anthony
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(Further Away) From The Year Two Thousand and Eight
As we move further away,
From the year two thousand and eight.
As is the custom to celebrate it.
There will be more who will come,
To appreciate the year...
They were shakened awake.
Realizing they were not forced,
To participate...
In satisfying a temporary greed,
Nibbled with a teasing eventually satiated.
And...
Many caught up in the feeding of this feast...
Wished they had more patience and waited!
To examine the crooks who gleefully stuffed them...
With a wonderful presentation of deceit on their plates!
'Hmmm...
Would you pass me more lies, please!
What do you mean 'which ones'?
The best ones,
Of course.
What do you mean...
You've 'run out' of 'those'?
They were delicious!
I demand an explanation.
Immediately! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Blindman
(coverdale)
I was dreaming of the past,
Why do good times never last
Help me jesus, show the way
I cant hold on another day
I was hungry, felling low,
I just couldnt make out which way to go
Chasing rainbows that have no end,
The road is long without friend
Be my friend, be my brother,
Be the piper, play the call
Across the seven seas of wonder
Be the guardian of my soul
Just a young man looking homeward,
Watching the sun go down again
Across the water, the sun is shining,
But, will it ever, will it ever be the same
Be my friend, be my brother,
Be the piper, play the call
Across the seven seas of wonder
Be the guardian of my soul
I need somebody, I need someone,
I need somebody to call my own
Like a blindman, I can feel the heat of the sun,
But, like a blindman
I dont know, I dont know,
I dont know where its coming from
Be my friend, be my brother,
Be the piper, play the call
Across the seven seas of wonder
Be the guardian of my soul
I need somebody, I need someone,
I need somebody to call my own
Like a blindman, I can feel the heat of the sun,
But, like a blindman
I dont know, I dont know,
I dont know where is coming from
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter CXXXIV: From A to Z
Affecting heart is never ending zone
Becoming the best is never ending ambition
Collecting money is never ending business
Defining happiness is never ending comparison
Expecting future is never ending dream
Feeling lonely is never ending emptiness
Glittering light is never ending fantasy
Hiding the truth is never ending guilt
Imagining peace is never ending hope
Jealousy rage is never ending inferno
Keeping trust is never ending job
Living life is never ending knowledge
Memorizing something is never ending labyrinth
Not having the ability is never ending misery
Obtaining respect is never ending need
Pursuing love is never ending obsession
Questioning human is never ending paradox
Research and study is never ending quest
Smiling sincerely is never ending river
Telling lies is never ending story
Understanding fate is never ending temptation
Various culture is never ending uniqueness
Watching interest is never ending vision
X factor is never ending world
Years for price of wish is never ending xxxholic
Zipping a flat tummy is never ending yearning
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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When The Money Is Right
Dollar profits gone.
And the purpose of one's life,
Goes misunderstood.
Or never comprehended,
As life should be...
A priority.
And on the top of one's agenda.
If lived and embraced.
When the money is right...
Everybody with it wants to play big shot,
All day!
All night!
When the money is right...
Everybody's ripe,
To splurge and feed their appetites.
When the money is right...
Nobody cares who's homeless or hungry,
With no where to sleep or eat at night.
When the money is right...
Those who have it,
Take delight to see others in blight.
When the money is right...
Greed is hard to fight.
And needs of the helpless,
Becomes an oversight.
Dollar profits gone.
And the purpose of one's life,
Goes misunderstood.
Or never comprehended,
As life should be...
A priority.
And on the top of one's agenda.
If lived and embraced.
But when it fades away,
People feel and looked disgraced.
As if embarrassed and filled with hate.
And with an emptiness inside that takes place...
They then create racist activities,
Seething to draw someone's blood to bleed.
With an irateness baited to please.
Shown with those of insecurities...
Without resources from others to squeeze!
When the money is right...
Everybody with it wants to play big shot,
All day!
All night!
When the money is right...
Everybody's ripe,
To splurge and feed their appetites.
When the money is right...
Nobody cares who's homeless or hungry,
With no where to sleep or eat at night.
When the money is right...
Those who have it,
Take delight to see others in blight.
When the money is right...
Greed is hard to fight.
And needs of the helpless,
Becomes an oversight.
A selfishness bites...
Whether money is right,
Or not!
Oh...oh!
Oh...oh!
When the money is right...
Everybody's ripe,
To splurge and feed their appetites.
When the money is right...
Nobody cares who's homeless or hungry,
With no where to sleep or eat at night.
When the money is right...
Those who have it,
Take delight to see others in blight.
When the money is right...
Greed is hard to fight.
Oh...oh...oh.
When the money is right...
Greed is hard to fight.
Oh...oh...oh.
When the money is right,
Few have sleepless nights!
With dreams of making,
And taking it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Piper's First Bath
I saw you in dream-filled sleep
I could see behind your eyes the golden haze of heaven
Unfolding into a room paved with diamonds
Sparkling so brightly they almost burned your skin
The angel beckoned you to come a calling
To their Wisdom Room
“Fare thee well Piper. Stand strong.
Be as brave as ten men when life gives you a black eye
Until we meet again…”
Piper smiled at the angels
She had known them ten thousand ten thousand years
Even though she had left home
She knew her Earth mother loved her
As powerfully as God himself
I saw her smile behind the veil that separated us from
The Wisdom Room
And the room where I was rocking her
Her father had painted a wise old owl on the wall
Signifying her future
Signifying her destiny for all divine goodness
Evidenced by her most precious face
Evidenced by her most precious manner
The angels stopped talking for the moment
Piper opened her eyes and looked up at me
I wanted to explain the inexplicable world
That she had come to briefly visit
I wanted to hold her for her whole lifetime but
It was time to give her
Her first bath
Written by Sara Fielder © 2012
NOTE: Written for one week old Piper. The daughter of a beloved friend.
poem by Sara Fielder
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