Who Writes The Pages Of These Scripted Fantasies?
What is it that people expect,
From those they have outwardly offended?
A warm and loving embrace...
And tears dripping from eyes,
From those finally getting a reception...
They have been secretly wishing?
Who writes the pages of these scripted fantasies?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Wishing You Were Here
I'm writing letters and your candle is burning
Things could be better, can't handle this yearning.
Can't stop my head from spinning,
wishing you were here.
Look at your photo but it still can't hold me,
I just recall the things you never ever told me
Like you're the one and I am
wishing you were here.
Wish you were here
to see the moon in the sky
Oh here, to see the light in your eyes
Looking at the stars and
Wishing you were here.
The clock is ticking but the time moves slowly
The weeks go quickly so you just won't know me
I'm writing love songs and I'm wishing
Wish you were here,
to see the moon in the skies
Oh here, to see the light in your eyes
Looking at the stars and
Wishing you were here
To put a smile on my face
Oh here, to get caught in my
warm embrace
Looking at the stars and
wishing you were here
Bridge:
To calm the restless nights
To kiss my fears away.
Here, to make this wrong seem right
To start our lives today.
Wish you were here,
to see the moon in the skies
Oh here, to see the light in your eyes
Looking at the stars and
Wishing you were here
To put a smile on my face
Oh here, to get caught in my
warm embrace
Looking at the stars and
wishing you were here
song performed by by Debbie Gibson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wishing Death
u've left me w nothing more
wishing death
i feel these hurts
they are my own
wishing death
i cry silent tears
they dnt come out down my face
they come out in anger
fear
silence
this desolate place i call my own.
i'm wishing death
it's calling my name
i shall never forget its lasting voice
the tears are finally coming
i've decided
wishing death
tht u will remember my face
red and angry
with silence all around
my eyes a glassy stare tht penetrates ur mind
makes u think
wishing death..
poem by Musicland Suicide
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Most sought After...Least received
Soft arms wrap around you
In friendly warm embrace
Gesture without words
A smile upon one’s face
No charge…no love lost…
No obligation, no reservation
Freely given, no fee or cost
Warm reception, no hesitation
Not asked for… yet freely given
Rush of sensation, so warm, so snug
The most sought after thing…(for me)
is a warm friendly hug
poem by David Whalen
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People Expect Too Much From Me
aug,11,2010
people expect me to be perfect,
because i'm smart,
people expect me to get good grades,
because of all the hard work i put in,
people expect me to have my own business,
because i can be talented and creative,
people expect me to be a push over,
rather than a girl who speaks her mind,
people expect me to be something i'm not,
but all i can be is only myself,
people expect me to deal with life,
i can only deal with it the best i can,
people expect me to handle more than i can,
but who is it really for or what do i have to prove?
people expect me to be who they want,
but did they ever stop to think of what i wanted?
poem by Mona Martinez
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Little Lies
wash away my pain
discovering its in my veins
I smell the lilacs in my hair
I'm wishing I was not here
always takes me back to this dark place
suddenly fills me I feel insane
I feel the warm sun from your embrace
Wishing love will take my place
Take me away from this moment
Run me away from these tears
Dragging my heart into this moment
I wish this moment was never here........
Disappointment from me again
Did you think I was your friend
But from a distance you stand cold and silent
but with your words you hit the target...
little lies, you promised you always love me................
wash away my pain
discovering its in my veins
I smell the lilacs in my hair
I'm wishing I was not here
always takes me back to this dark place
suddenly it fills me, I feel insane
I feel the warm sun from your embrace
Wishing love will take my place
poem by Sita Cabrera
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Must
She writes as if there’s not much time.
She writes to pain, to happiness,
She writes to every remote detailed thought.
She writes to the departed,
to the extant,
to poverty,
to wealth.
She writes to mourn, and grief.
She writes to the wind, the rain,
forest, the desert, and mountains.
She writes to her pouring tears,
to her grateful moments,
She writes because really what she has is time.
She has no little ones to feed, or bathe,
nor a husband to make happy. To write is
to escape- to her. Time is not a problem, time
is just a killing system, she needs to kill in many words.
She writes as if there’s not much time.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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The offender writes in dust, the offended writes in marble.
Time To Get Alone
I looked at you baby
And what did I see
I saw love in your eyes
Made me feel so warm inside
Now look at me baby
And what do you see
You see love in my eyes
Gleaming just for you
And now we know its
Time to get alone
To get alone
And just be together
Well only be together
Come and do a couple days
Just a ways
Away from the people
And safe from the people
The pine-scented air
Smells so good in the snow
In our toboggan well go
Screaming down the mountainside
The touch of your cheeks
When theyre rosy and cold
Feels so cozy to hold
Just to take you close
And make you warm and
Time to get alone
To get alone
And just be together
Well only be together
Come and do a couple days
Just a ways
Away from the people
And safe from the people
Lyin down on our backs
Lookin at the sky
Looking down through the valley so
Deep and wide
Arent you glad we finally got away
Glad we finally got away
Arent you glad we finally got away
Now I looked around baby
And what do I see
I see love in your eyes
And Im so glad that we
Finally had some
Time to get alone
To get alone
And just be together
Well only be together
Come and do a couple days
Just a ways
Away from the people
And safe from the people
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Invisible Ink!
the invisible man
writes with invisible ink,
the pages of the book,
seldom turned...
often writes with hammer and nails,
sometimes shovel and plow...
sometimes a cigarette bummed,
a cup of coffee and a sandwich!
a small child's eyes,
or an old man's eyes,
a patchwork heart,
and a spirit that soars...
the invisible man
who stands beside,
and never backs down...
never walks away!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Fantasies Oversold When Told
Fantasies oversold when told,
Have a tendency to be difficult to re-tell...
With bits and pieces of truth injected.
A clinching to them begins.
And people become offended...
When storylines being changed,
Affect what they accept...
Has been 'common' sense.
Or different versions of them...
Are suddenly making appearances,
To convince.
Fantasies oversold when told,
Start to crack foundations...
That are molded in isolation.
And divisions of faith,
Begin with to subdivide.
And people are afraid to call fantasies lies.
The marketing of them has been too fantastic.
The ridding of them would be too drastic.
And minds confused will seek higher doses...
Of an assortment of medications once illegal,
Now obtain in beverages that attract children...
Quick to be addict to products with cute names.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Must You Throw Dirt In My Face
What is it that brings you to this part of town
Curiosity, conscience or fate
I know its not love
Cause I once gave you love
And all you showed me was the gate
I got a feeling youve come back
To just rub it in
And to really put me in my place
Youve already but big old tears in my eyes
Must you throw dirt in my face
Must you keep telling me that youve got a new love
I dont need you to remind me
Must you keep telling me how I look so lonely
And my better days are behind me
Must you keep showing me pictures of him
Boasting of his warm embrace
Youve already put big old tears in my eyes
Must you throw dirt in my face
Youve already left me
And broken my heart
Told me how much you dont want me
Believe me Im happier when were apart
Why must you come back now to haunt me
Must you keep showing me pictures of him
Boasting of his warm embrace
Youve already put big old tears in my eyes
Must you throw dirt in my face
Youve already put big old tears in my eyes
Must you throw dirt in my face
Must you throw dirt in my face
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tears Of Pain
Tears of pain stream down my although I know you're in a better place
Wishing I could see your face..,
Tears of pain stream down my face, I know you won the race.
All your pain finally ends, you and I were close friends,
Tears of pain stream down my face, I'll still be here in the end,
Tears of pain stream down my face this is something I can't take.
It wasn't fare for you to go; I have never felt a deeper hole.
Tears of pain stream down my face I feel
Your presence, in my place
I sure do miss that smiling face,
Tears of pain stream down my face,
You were the brightness to fill my greys,
Tears of pain stream down my face
I miss the feeling of embrace,
When looking at your wonderful face
Tears of pain stream down my face.
It came to soon, but your alright I try to talk to you every night.
now I know you're in a better place, The tears of pain have withered away.
poem by Raeanne Runyemba
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Sweet Embrace
I scream and scream
People don't notice
I feel like I'm trapped
In a never ending nightmare
Feeling sealed in, alone
No one to hold on to except
Death's sweet embrace
Wishing I would
Wishing I could
Trying to reach for something
That's not there
So close but, not
So far but, near
Trapped in my own
Personal, never ending hell
Wishing you were here
But you've left me
To face this one
My own
All I have left,
To look forward too
Is Death's sweet embrace
poem by Autumn Winds
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We'll See How That Goes
Had you ever felt offended,
By receiving an invitation from an enterprise...
Who initially did not seek your presence inside.
Where others who patronize were welcomed to sit.
And the only reason you received an invitation...
Was to assist this enterprise from going out of business?
And it has been requested you assist them to avoid this?
Did you feel offended?
OR has this ever happened to you?
And when closed eyes finally open to a wider view,
Would you rather spend time with people like that?
Or where services are rendered...
And people without exception know how to exchange respect.
Especially when business and money is involved.
'So...
Are you going to accept the invitation? '
No.
But I may offer to buy their business.
We'll see how that goes!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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So What Do You Expect From The Title?
the poet writes the title
first,
he is the messy kind
that writes
whatever comes first
even though
literally each word
seems not to be significant
to the next one
practically like strangers
coming together
inside a train
whose common ground
is only to go somewhere
else
nothing like
care, or affection
they merely stand there
and wait
and then take their
respective
exits
he writes: so what do you expect from life?
changing it later:
so what do you expect
from the
title? trying to conceal the essence
of his question
and then he keeps on writing
like a lost kid
looking for its mother
who seems to be very busy
with her own
kind of obsessive
compulsive shopping
and then you arrive at the
end line which says: hey why are you stalking me?
changes it later to
something courteous: do i know you?
are you following me?
do you like me? funny, but
sometimes it is true
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An Over and Done and An Exit Out
Some people have a tendency,
To embrace nonsense.
As if it is an appendage.
While those who have become offended by this...
Decide to exhaust all tolerance for it's appearance.
The 'nonsensical' then become offended,
When an attention is suspended from them.
But a caring that has lessened immensely...
Is still giving these folks a bit too much respect,
That needs to end...
Period.
With an over and done,
And an exit out!
With no pouting to exchange.
But definitely...
A silent and closed mouth.
Until a point made has been established.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tears
Tears! tears! tears!
In the night, in solitude, tears;
On the white shore dripping, dripping, suck'd in by the sand;
Tears--not a star shining--all dark and desolate;
Moist tears from the eyes of a muffled head:
--O who is that ghost?--that form in the dark, with tears?
What shapeless lump is that, bent, crouch'd there on the sand?
Streaming tears--sobbing tears--throes, choked with wild cries;
O storm, embodied, rising, careering, with swift steps along the
beach;
O wild and dismal night storm, with wind! O belching and
desperate! 10
O shade, so sedate and decorous by day, with calm countenance and
regulated pace;
But away, at night, as you fly, none looking--O then the unloosen'd
ocean,
Of tears! tears! tears!
poem by Walt Whitman
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Dripping Water
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the horizon of heaven,
on the land, on the sand,
makes me happy, and so elated,
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the dark black clouds,
on the leaves, on the tress,
gives them a slow quick bath,
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the thunderstruck light,
on the eyes, on the cheeks,
makes everyone to turn the face up!
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the beauty of sky,
onthe mud, on the rivers,
makes musical splashes when gets strike,
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the love of vast scream,
to the beautiful murmors of land,
makes me sing, and dance.
poem by Tayyeba Mustafa
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The Memory Place
Shelves tower over me; crowed with bound pages
of events, people, places, ideas.
Of memories.
Of captured feelings pressed like flowers between the pages;
for people to be inspired by someone else's words.
My eyes caress the titles printed on bright spines
as I run my fingers across
what holds the memories together.
I pick up a book, turning yellowed pages,
the scent of gentle time traveling to my nose.
I close my eyes and smile:
it brings back memories of my own,
but these pages are not for me.
I put back the soft bundle of pages
and continued to search in the Memory Place
until I find my own belonging among the words.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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Degrees Of Love
When your eyes opened to mine eyes,
Without desire, without surprise,
I knew your soul awoke to see
All, dreams foretold, but could not be,
Yet loving me, not loving me.
When your eyes drooped before mine eyes,
As though some secret made them wise,
Some wisdom veiled them secretly,
I knew your heart began to be
In love with love, in love with me.
When your eyes tawned against mine eyes,
With beaten hunger, and with cries,
In bitter pride's humility,
Love, wholly mine, had come to be.
Hatred of love for loving me.
poem by Arthur Symons
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