With A Defying Against Any Of The Evidence
To do something done unconsciously to another...
And to have that act returned with a consciousness delivered,
As intended!
Says this as witnessed...
There is no sense made in a display of one's offense.
And yet offended people become,
When given exactly to them what they had initiated.
And done.
With one thing missing.
A lack of acknowledging their involvement.
And an applied selective memory,
That removes them from the scene of a crime committed.
A common hit and run done claimed by someone caught,
To have known nothing about what has happened.
With a defying against any of the evidence.
Pictures, fingerprints...
Food stains and crumbs on lips.
And the habit of their daily routine.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Fundamental of Liar Chapter CXV: Common Thing
It’s not a kindness of heart
It’s not strong solidarity
It’s just a common thing
It’s not local wisdom
It’s not old tradition
It’s just a common thing
It’s not call of duty
It’s not sense of right
It’s just a common thing
It’s not formal greeting
It’s not automatic response
It’s just a common thing
It’s not a matter of guessing
It’s not a part of instinct
It’s just a common thing
It’s not natural reaction
It’s not act of compassion
It’s just a common thing
It’s not regular news
It’s not lack of awareness
It’s just a common thing
It’s not general knowledge
It’s not piece of memory
It’s just a common thing
It’s not statistic range
It’s not operational standard
It’s just a common thing
It’s not moral excuses
It’s not people ignorance
It’s just a common thing
It’s not public secret
It’s not rhetoric question
It’s just a common thing
It’s not different mindset
It’s not basic solution
It’s just a common thing
It’s not absolute law
It’s not blind obedience
It’s just a common thing
It’s not sweet revenge
It’s not getting even
It’s just a common thing
It’s not constant worry
It’s not planted fear
It’s just a common thing
It’s not usual bickering
It’s not daily fight
It’s just a common thing
It’s not die hard habit
It’s not strange behavior
It’s just a common thing
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Loss of Eye Contact
You and I have one thing in common!
We both are attracted to exit signs...
Without a need to ask for direction.
Unfortunately...
Some folks are so hypnotized,
By their own ego...
They believe the display
Of someone's lack of attention
And loss of eye contact...
Is a signal for them,
To produce pictures of ugly children!
'I'm sorry!
I didn't know those were 'not' pictures,
Of you taken at a petting zoo!
Ooooohhh...I see,
They are your grandchildren? Well...
No offense, but can you point out which
Ones are which! ?
Will you ever forgive me? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Too Trite to Feed One's Appetite
Unfortunately there can not be,
A transfer of insight.
Nor a capability to deliver another,
From emotional pain or heartbreak felt.
But are observations witnessed that different,
That two people will interpret the same thing seen...
As if neither had been there on the scene at all.
Is this called selective eyeballing?
I've been in the presence of someone,
Who tried to convince others who were present...
As to what took place.
With a look on the face that defied dishonesty.
However...
To announce an understanding and defend it with empathy,
Is believable as a performance and delivered from a stage.
But too trite to feed one's appetite who knows a real touch.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What For Them Was Isn't
What for them was isn't.
Like the taste of a lollipop,
That has faded from one's memory.
The activity is remembered.
But the flavor of it is gone.
And many are trying to hold onto it.
With a savor craved...
That brings them to the edge,
Of a tantrum fit!
Since what sits in their minds from yesterday,
Hasn't for them really gone away.
They want it returned!
They want it to stay!
They feel betrayed by an enslavement made!
What for them 'was'
ISN'T anymore.
Or will be again.
For anyone else to be explored!
Those heard droaning in a whining moan...
Are lost and locked in a consciousness,
Soon to be all their own.
What for them was isn't.
It's never coming back!
That's a fact they wished attacked.
But from a clock that has stopped its tick tocking...
The hands on it sit!
And there is no movement witnessed from this.
There is no movement witnessed from this.
And there is no movement witnessed from this.
There is no movement witnessed from this.
No movement,
Is witnessed from this!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Twice Becomes a Habit
Doing what we please.
With the selling of our embellishments.
Has come under much scrutiny.
And a call to be precise...
Does not sit too comfortably,
With those irresponsible.
And others n'er do well.
Seeking a laziness to entice.
To abuse this twice becomes a habit.
To keep it fed becomes routine.
Some may see this as discrimination.
Not a justification...
To do away with incompetence.
And those who half accomplish...
What their intentions find difficult to finish.
These days a mediocrity,
Is being ushered from the spotlight.
Success comes with applied effort.
Not from those accepted as nice.
But aren't up to the challenge...
To get things done,
With sacrifice.
To abuse this twice becomes a habit.
To keep it fed becomes routine.
Gone are those days of going through the motions.
And adopting the notion,
Procrastination fascinates those with patience waiting.
Time is not a blind date...
Hoping to approve who shows and comes,
Out of breath with expressed excuses.
And annoying the diligent ones.
That tick-tocking on those clocks have stopped!
To abuse this twice becomes a habit.
To keep it fed becomes routine.
And refusing people like this,
From addressed strict agendas...
Keeps a purpose with direction flourished.
As long as it is understood...
They will always be kept in minds respected.
But their absence is welcomed,
When they are far away from strategic scenes.
Not to demean.
But to accomplish.
'No offense.
But we are here to get things done.
You understand that,
Don't you? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If It Made Sense
If it made sense,
It would not be worthy to mention.
The necessity to achieve it,
Would be instilled as a natural acceptance.
Only that which others find uncommon,
Is where those decisions to be offended begins.
With a witnessing of those taking offense,
Not for them being cost effective.
But it is the making of sense,
Many find not to be so common to obtain.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fighting For Their Rights To Be Fools
There is nothing like conditional repetition.
In the doing of something that will never work.
And defying the advice given,
By those who are professional and certified as experts.
A conspiracy is generated to consciously impede.
To ensure something effective does not succeed.
But an intentional application of implemented ignorance...
Says much about a mindset,
Wishing to influence by the lack of experience.
Or pretense of common sense.
There is nothing like conditional repetition.
In the doing of something that will never work.
And defying the advice given,
By those who are professional and certified as experts.
And those who suffer aren't the ones chosen to do so!
They've already identified and decided those who are the jerks.
When it becomes obvious lives are threatened,
By those incompetent and rise in position to rule.
The evidence of this speaks for itself.
The ones protesting with the loudest of voices...
Prove themselves on a daily basis,
Who are the ones truly victimized.
And who are those fighting for their rights to be fools.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Until Someone Is Challenged
It is a place of routines.
A job daily done.
A town...
Where everything done,
Is known by everyone.
And seasons go and they come.
Changing very little.
Accept for the birth of someone's daughter,
Or son!
Or a crime committed that stuns.
The only ones not aware of them...
Are those who are caught up,
In these same scenes.
Both routine and crime...
Over time,
Have come to be accepted
As commonplace as mustard is on a hotdog.
Or someone drinking a diet beverage,
Expecting to burn off fat sitting on wide hips!
In front of a TV with wishes to be slim and lean!
Many of them are frequently seen.
Like the expectation of holidays.
They come when they do...
But few know what they mean.
Anything that comes along,
With a differentness...
It upsets and it is quickly dismissed.
Or sits ignored.
Until someone is challenged to explore it.
Even though this freshness is best...
Folks in one mindset,
Are like eggs in one nest!
If someone sees a few that are cracked...
Eventually those left with shells unblemished,
Will end up at least equally...
Cracked matched.
To be stacked.
Given some applied insignificance.
Or damaged beyond recognition.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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People Do Make Mistakes
Sometimes people do make mistakes.
I've made some.
And who has not made a few?
But not knowingly at the expense of others.
And those who excuse these activities done,
As errors made unconsciously...
With proclamations for a wish to be forgiven,
Need to know how it feels to receive payback.
Directed and unmistakable.
And inflicted with the ease in which they were made.
With a consciousness applied and lessons taught.
To awaken anyone daring to use these excuses in the future.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Common Sense Is Missing
Common Sense?
If it is so common,
Why is it so rarely displayed?
People who succeed academically...
Sometimes find it hard to mix
With those who are suppose to lack
A worldly knowledge and quick wit!
Those who spend their lives in books...
May have minds of intelligence,
But few know how to cook!
Or know how to hold a conversation...
Without returning an 'all knowing' look!
With a raised eyebrow...
And a half smile crooked!
And common sense is missing.
That is realized before a word is said!
There is something about spontaneity...
Many find difficult to express from their heads!
Or able to exchange...
When brains are prepared to regurgitate,
Details obtained about 'historical' ancient remains!
And common sense...
If there's any left,
Is not expected to come from the lips
Of minds so far removed, dull and shamefully inept!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mind Fed Rituals
When determined people,
Pray to God to have their way...
And God sends to them messengers,
To scream from bullhorns...
This is not going to happen.
Leave people like this.
Do not attempt to make bargains...
With the use of common sense.
Leave people like this.
These people only value,
The physical aspects of life.
People like this will make their mission,
To enlist others to value their point of view.
Even to select and depict those unknowing,
They have been chosen as culprits...
By someone who did not like,
How they were told...
To remove their rose colored glasses!
Leave people like this.
Do not attempt to make bargains...
With the use of common sense.
Leave people like this.
These people only value,
The physical aspects of life.
And the 'spiritual' side of it...
Is a routine of mind fed rituals,
Outdated by a lack indepth perception.
Leave people like this.
Do not attempt to make bargains...
With the use of common sense.
A common sense for many,
That has been diluted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Entertainment Escapes Made Accessible and Free
Accepting challenges around the clock nonstop...
Defantisizes life for some.
And crystallizes a maturity.
This is not often seen...
Where folks are committed to irresponsibility.
Where folks schedule their activities...
Between being uninvolved and making party scenes.
Entertainment escapes made accessible and free...
Are generally observed,
Where people are not concern.
And quickly display disrespect for themselves.
As they show a lack of discipline.
And an absence of identity.
Those like this often call for unity.
And pray to have their communities monitored...
As they beg for more police.
To keep them protected from themselves,
As they spread more of their mental disease.
And this is done by urbanites,
At a price that is paid by everyone!
Although no one acknowledges a consciousness claimed...
To be seriously considered or concrete of beliefs.
Not when so many have exited from accountability.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fantasized Out Of Reason
The proof is in the evidence.
Accusations end...
When one's lips have been sealed,
To reveal fingerprints.
And only then are confessions,
Reluctantly made.
And when this happens,
A seeking of forgiveness seems shallow.
The act of it expresses one's narrow mind.
With attempts to define the crime,
As not as serious...
If the act itself is admitted!
These folks have been watching,
Too much TV and fantasized out of reason.
Admitting anything makes the act of it okay.
And the logic in their minds has been betrayed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Above all, do not lie to yourself. A man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point where he does not discern any truth either in himself or anywhere around him, and thus falls into disrespect towards himself and others. Not respecting anyone, he ceases to love, and having no love, he gives himself up to passions and coarse pleasures, in order to occupy and amuse himself, and in his vices reaches complete bestiality, and it all comes from lying continually to others and to himself. A man who lies to himself is often the first to take offense. It sometimes feels very good to take offense, doesn’t it? And surely he knows that no one has offended him, and that he himself has invented the offense and told lies just for the beauty of it, that he has exaggerated for the sake of effect, that he has picked on a word and made a mountain out of a pea — he knows all of that, and still he is the first to take offense, he likes feeling offended, it gives him great pleasure, and thus he reaches the point of real hostility…
quote by Dostoyevsky
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Grossly Limited
People claiming to have common sense,
Will make attempts to convince anyone listening.
Raving they wish to the government out of their daily lives.
However...
When trouble arrives at their doorstep,
They do not call upon God to correct their situations...
Or protect them.
They call upon the police to cease their agonies.
A service that makles their taxes increase.
And...
If the police are not there within minutes,
A blame of their local government from them is dispensed.
Saying they pay to keep protected.
But the police are not there to do that at all.
They are there for purposes of civil disobedience.
To maintain the public's interests!
And 'that' is the law.
None obey!
From the pulpits to the streets,
Disagreements with mandates delivered from God...
Fall upon deaf ears.
Religiously.
People claiming to have common sense,
Don't listen.
Quick to defend ignorance.
And are pretentious in displaying their offense.
Since this conflicts with discipline!
An activity for them too lazy to inflict.
Restricting their insight!
And manifesting a grossly limited comprehension of life.
'If money is not attached,
No attention is given! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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As Obvious As Trash Cluttered Streets
Insecure people never seem to know,
What it is they want.
Where it is they wish to go.
Or sticking to a thought that is claimed,
To have for them a meaning meant!
And the frightening thing about this is,
People like that somehow influence others...
Through exaggeration,
That the decisions they make are the best choices.
And nothing has been proven by those who follow them...
That this is true.
Or that a benefit from this for them has been obtained
In fact,
The evidence of insecurity and the lack of discipline...
Is not hidden.
This is as obvious as trash cluttered streets.
Leaders elected because they are liked,
But lack competence.
And people seen who are threatened by dignity.
Supported those who protect them by making excuses,
For their actions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Application Of Much Elbow Grease
If I believed everything in life,
Should come to me quick and easy...
I would not have made any attempts,
To accomplish anything.
I'd be more like you...
Complaining and maintaining,
An ability to make new and fresh excuses.
Refusing to listen.
Or accept and move on,
From mistakes I've made.
I'd be like you...
Pretending the only thing I needed,
To boost my self esteem from a routine...
Was a bit of luck.
And a patted stroke on my back,
From someone who offered a shoulder to cry on.
And while you are here...
Let me make this comment absolutely clear.
I will never make it a habit,
To run from one listening ear to another.
Wasting my time or that of others...
Whining about time I don't have,
As I defend every one of my insecurities.
I've witnessed too many seasons,
Hearing how some folks abruptly leave.
To produce nothing but a list of 'what ifs'.
Perceiving they could wish procrastination away.
I've witnwessed too many seasons,
In bloom...
Acknowledging my dreams needed more from me,
Than wishful thinking without sacrifice, dedication...
And the application of much elbow grease!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nomads Free of Self Consciousness
There is a place where excuses are made.
And finding fault with others is condoned.
Children are disrespectful...
Hygiene is neglected, disregarded and rejected
And comprehension of it,
Goes unknown!
People defend their ignorance,
And lack of common sense...
With much protest!
Yet wishes to live like this in bliss
Is sick
Accepted
And shown!
Urban indigestion...
Constipates suggestions.
Blocked they are from knowledge
That acknowledges a cultural lost!
Nomads free of self consciousness,
Resisting attempts to fix...
At any cost!
A collective sanity is missing!
And those who know what it takes,
Are seen with their fingers crossed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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So What Do We All Have In Common?
Thank you class.
I am glad all of us here,
Have agreed to take pictures of ourselves,
As an assigment.
Take a good look at each picture.
Now...
Pass your picture to your classmate.
Everyone do this quickly please.
No laughing.
Now...
With the scissors,
Cut away everything you see...
We all have that is common and familiar.
'There will leave nothing left to our pictures.'
Would you repeated that, Jack.
'There will leave nothing left to our pictures.'
Saying what?
'We all have the same thing in common.'
So what has happened to the picture?
'There is no picture.
There is nothing left to see.'
So what do we all have in common?
'Nothing! '
Well...uh...well...er um...
You've missed my point,
Entirely!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Coincidental
If I had not been there,
For several people...
They would have had different lives.
I know this!
And they...
Well,
Just prefer not to acknowledge it.
Instead...
They would like to classify my involvement,
In their lives...
As coincidental.
IF...
They are not,
In selective memory mode.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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