With a Weakness of Mind and Physicality
Rising above criticism and self critique,
May be a little easier...
For someone accustomed,
To living a life that is public.
And not discreet.
Some habitually hide themselves,
Under layers of choice and voices selected.
And choose words heard,
That flatter as preferred.
It takes courage to step out in front.
To confront opposition and be blunt.
People who fear to have their feelings hurt,
Are usually those,
Who spread gossip with a thirst.
Rising above criticism and self critique,
May be a little easier...
For someone accustomed,
To living a life that is public.
And not discreet.
Some habitually hide themselves,
Under layers of choice and voices selected.
And choose words heard,
That flatter as preferred.
With a weakness of mind and physicality.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Can't Get a Night of Peaceful Sleep
Isn't it much easier,
To sit back and critique?
Than it is,
To have your neck on the chopping block...
And your name going defenseless,
On the streets?
To be tossed about,
Like hair dropping out.
From an ill fitted weave.
And flying through the air,
With the greatest of ease.
Without anyone to retrieve it,
In the free flowing breeze.
Isn't it fun to enjoy with everyone...
Picking on people behind their backs.
And when in public they are seen...
You snub them when they speak.
Knowing there is no reason,
For you to be that mean.
And when adverse reactions,
Come to confront you.
Isn't it wonderful to know,
Those who choose to do it...
Were friends you knew who screwed you too.
In ways you reminisce...
You made a choice to do this.
But now a forgiveness wished,
That your feelings could be spared.
But no one is there,
To show a caring that is shared.
Isn't it much easier,
To sit back and critique?
Than it is,
To have your neck on the chopping block...
And your name going defenseless,
On the streets?
And no one is concerned,
Your lessons have been learned.
Leaving you to toss and turn...
From nights spent trying to get some sleep!
Haunted by those memories,
Of how you hurt innocent people so deep.
And you're left alone to moan.
To do your boo hooing on your own.
With an empathy felt,
That attracts no help...
To come soon to relieve.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sinking From the Weight
Sinking from the weight of,
Denial.
We put on trial,
People we choose to deceive.
And...
Sinking from the weight of,
Denial.
We put on trial,
People we choose to deceive.
Is it an offense or a needless crime,
To defy fighting against...
Your own kind?
With selected ones chosen,
To occupy our minds.
For purposes to protect.
Their interests kept.
Even though we who are selected...
To do these deeds,
By those in sheltered discreet...
We remain despised,
By those who disrespect.
And fed from birth,
To know when to cheat...
Spy, lie and use alibis.
Is it an offense,
To not follow rules...
That make no sense.
As we must listen to 'authorities'
Who attempt to convince.
If a certain status given,
Is that of a minority....
Concerns of the majority,
Is a worthless expense.
And given less attention.
Is any seriousness mention.
Since no rights have been given,
A worthiness to drive 'unimportant' lives.
You may ride as a passenger...
But not permitted,
To make decisions from front seats.
And to speak,
Only when spoken to!
With a preferred silence.
To make what is done...
Even sweeter to complete.
Sinking from the weight of,
Denial.
We put on trial,
People we choose to deceive.
And...
Sinking from the weight of,
Denial.
We put on trial,
People we choose to deceive.
Is it an offense or a needless crime.
To defy fighting against,
Your own kind?
Or abandon ship,
Sinking from the weight...
Of evidence there is ignorance.
Sinking from the weight of,
Denial.
We put on trial,
People we choose to deceive.
And...
Sinking from the weight of,
Denial.
We put on trial,
People we choose to deceive.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Choices
One should feel lucky
If one gets choices in the life
It can make one happy
Throughout the life
Choice in love
Friends and relations
Work, career, city and country
Is the dream of every living soul?
Living the life with choice
If one doesn’t get things of choice
One should be contented
With what he gets
Too many cooks spoil the dish
Too many choices
Makes it difficult to choose
One is lucky
If one gets chance to choose
If one’s got a life there is no choice
One has to live the way it comes
Throughout the life
Keep on trying,
For better choices
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Antics Fat Cats In Silk Suits Choose
So far to the right,
They are out of their own focus.
And inspite of what they say and do...
Only criticism of what is done,
On the left side...
Is what they pursue,
To keep the public confused!
With a merry-go-round of antics,
Fat cats in silk suits choose...
To demoralize correctness.
And leave many singing the blues.
Since they see themselves as 'chosen'.
And the folks who they ignore,
Are used and accustomed to being abused!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Only Voices I hear Are On The Inside
I was born not being able to hear
Born not hearing my mother tell me I'm dear
Born never listening to anyone who spoke to me
Born not enjoying music
Born without the ability to gauge sound, unable to hear the clock tick
But since the day I was born
Since before I could talk, I could scorn
There was one thing I always did hate
And that was the thing deepest inside of me,
The thing for which I cursed fate
Worse than deafness or being unable to see
Since the day I was born I heard voices
Not when loved ones talked, but voices that weren't my choice
To hear, voices that were inside my head
Voices that nobody else heard, but I didn't know if they were lying
Because my hearing has always been dead
I'd hear screeching or dying
When none was there
Those voices they'd tell me what to do and how could I deny them?
They were, they are, and they will be the only ones who care
Because they're the only one that speak to me, I can't find the sin
That I committed to be born like this, to be born broken
I've heard more conversations than any other man
And yet I've never heard man utter a word, through my whole lifespan
The only voices I hear are on the inside
And it's the greatest torment that I hide
They'll just tell me I'm crazy, well in writing
But these voices, they accept me, they sing
These voices they know because they've talked to me
These voices are the only I've ever known the
The first voices I've ever heard
Like a mother, I've never listened to a singing bird
But I've listened to a cacophonous symphony of arguing inside my head
These voices are like the woman I did not choose, but wed
I can't separate myself from them
The only time I hear anything, it's torment to condemn
Me, it's funny that I could never speak to anyone but myself
But I guess I've never, ever, been lonely... not ever.
I
Have
Never
Been
Alone
W ho could save me from myselves?
poem by David Knox
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Without That Kind Of Interruption
I've had those in my life...
Who believed,
I should be fulfilling 'their' dreams.
I should be acting on stages.
Or be seen on movie screens.
I've even had those,
Who have heard my compositions.
And thought I should sing.
Or because of my voice...
I'd make a great announcer,
On a radio station of my choice.
But,
I've always been a writer.
And that few people knew.
Although I am surprised by that...
Because for years my comments have appeared,
In local newspapers for anyone to view.
And that's a fact.
There is not one talent I have,
That I have not exposed.
And I still have my own dreams to pursue.
While those passing judgement,
And offering their nonsolicited critique...
Have yet to succeed.
Because they are in the business of others,
Like most gossip driven nonproductive folk.
And most of my life I have been quite happy,
Validating my skills.
With a doing of it,
Locally.
Nationally.
And internationally too.
But I must admit I am uncomfortable,
Bragging about what it is I do.
And many people do not have this as an issue.
With the hope that only a few 'selected' knew.
'IF I had your talents,
The whole world would know who I am.'
~Maybe that is the reason,
I have been given them.
To let them evolve...
Without that kind of interruption.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Accustomed To Opposition
I've grown accustomed to opposition.
As well as foolish maneuvers.
And those who object to those positions I have taken.
Nor will I apologize with regrets for those forward steps,
I chose to make that tested my faith.
And admit I do,
To the making of mistakes!
But obstacles and the fear of them,
I could not allow to slow my pace.
And those who choose to procrastinate,
With a hesitating done?
Well...
I perceive as being committed to wasting time.
And time as we live it as lived is not guaranteed to anyone,
To just sit back to see it come to leave.
I've grown accustomed to opposition.
But you know what?
I am here to participate and experience my life.
What others choose with a priority to do with their own,
I refuse to let their choices made get in my way.
I am not prone to the seeking of acceptance.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Choose To Fly
Choose to fly!
Choose to soar...
Above the clouds,
And touch the sky.
Choose to spread your wings.
And with praises choose to sing...
To end limitations.
And what to you those limits bring.
Choose to fly.
Energize with the Sun.
Have fun.
Begin what is wished.
Do not undo that which has begun.
Choose to fly.
Look up.
Around and down!
Can accustomed conflict mixed with confusion...
Be heard from anyone?
Can it be found?
As you lift your disconnectedness,
Higher off the ground?
Can you feel a peace?
As you release...
From tensions that decrease.
Choose to fly.
Let go of that madness...
Grabbing to entrap.
To have you slapped with unhappiness.
Choose to fly.
Declare your fresh air...
Is absent of dispair.
And all boundaries have cleared for your arrival.
Choose to fly!
Choose to soar...
Above the clouds,
And touch the sky.
Let go...
And take hold of the atmosphere there.
Choose to fly.
Choose to soar.
Choose to live the life you adore,
Even more!
Choose to fly.
And break free to live your dreams.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Technique
I am not perfect.
I have flaws.
And they are there in public view.
I have long been under a microscope.
By those who pass judgement,
And scrutinize too!
What makes you think I wish to hide,
Anything from you?
I've been raised to expect critique.
That's why I don't charade or masquerade!
Like many choose to do!
I live to be 'free'
Of the displeasures of others.
And that is my technique!
That suits 'me' and I use.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Easier to Be Selective
Doesn't it seem easier to be selective,
When one's life has been materialistically blissed?
Easy it comes to pass judgements on others,
As if one has a purpose to do it!
Doesn't it seem easier when one has money,
To do with as one pleases?
To make demands and have them met.
And show disrespect without regret.
Doesn't it appear easier to live life without needs,
Or wants.
To purchase and/or throw away...
And maybe choose some people to taunt!
Doesn't it seem as if those people do what they desire?
Doesn't it seem as if it was just yesterday...
Those same people today,
Have been expose to be the biggest thieves.
Deceitful evil liars.
And now the ones on their knees...
Pleading,
To be forgiven for a world in dire straits.
One in which they participated to diminish...
A quality of life that has no escapes.
With conscious deeds to destroy humanity!
And this has evidence they wish not to admit.
Even 'if' they choose to charade and dismiss...
A degrading of their masquerades.
Much too obvious today...
For anyone not to witness it, .
To deny it does not exist!
With wishes the creation of these conflicts...
Would disappear and go away.
For a return of a selected chosen bliss...
Once loved when it betrayed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Did You Pass or Fail?
Why is it easier to be arrogant?
Why is it easier to be cruel?
Why is it easier to be evil?
Why is it easier to hurt?
Why is it easier to an asshole?
Why is it easier to victimize?
Why is it easier to abuse?
Why is it easier to use?
Why is it easier to be greedy?
Why is it easier to be selfish?
Why is it easier to be self centered?
Why is it easier to steal?
Why is it easier to manipulate?
Why is it easier to lie?
My thoughts is it is a test to all man kind
Did you pass or fail?
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Just Don't Find 'Anything' to Pick
If you want to critique,
At least make some sense of it.
Just don't find 'anything' to pick.
With beliefs you'll get a piece,
Of public attention.
That's if you want to critique!
If not...
Make your comments less dissective.
With a negativity,
That leaves your critique...
And your intentions suspected.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Accustomed To Critique And Darkness
Emotional vampires,
Accustomed to critique and darkness...
I can't afford to have feeding on my consciousness.
The extensive draining done they do,
I wont allow with me to pursue.
And they will do it too!
Emotional vampires,
Limited with negativity.
Upset with themselves.
And surrounded by insecurities.
Despise they do,
Those who choose not to self abuse.
And refuse to listen...
But expect others to.
They are happiest when sharing,
Their blightest insights.
And delight when someone argues,
Against thoughts they have...
Others feel for them aren't right.
And pained by youthful injustices to them done,
These emotional vampires...
Solicit to undo,
The peace of mind of someone.
Emotional vampires,
Accustomed to critique and darkness...
I can't afford to have feeding on my consciousness.
The extensive draining done they do,
I wont allow with me to pursue.
And they will do it too!
If given one's time.
And...
Empathy.
'I'm a Scorpio.
What are you? '
I'm a-Leaving!
Note:
The 'theme' is similar to my other poem,
Entitled: 'Emotional Vampires'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Life roads
We all have different life roads,
we all think which one to choose,
some choose their road and crawl it,
they have no wish to fly.thinking it's a wit.
It's hard for them to learn the truth of life,
such people go with the tide
and fear like a hare living in a form with fright;
their feelings and soul are hidden,
they are always afraid to be bitten;
they take life as a boring groove,
it's so difficult for them to move.
Some people think that happiness -
living in a golden cage.
They speak with rage about freedom;
the golden cage is their stage.
In relation to some of those who get freedom:
they fuss, they dash about,
don't know what to do with it
and their life also becomes a rut,
they step on their own foot.
May be Shakespeare's famous words were true
'Life is a stage, and we are all actors'.
We all have entrances and our exits,
we take them as facts and persist.
But I would like to sing a song for those
who were not afraid to fall
but did everything in their power,
strained themselves in the utmost.
They had enough courage and strength
to get up and go on up the hill,
having their greatest will
they can surely pay for their life bill.
The science of life is so complicated
and only by God it can be rated.
But the roads of life are all self created.
Larisa R(Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Try 4 (A Happy)
In my mind happy is a choice
You either choose to be happy or
you choose to get by
A life of horror's ritual or
a simple joy's choice
All held by the type of smile of nature's will
Lonely has a hold
Life never travels right
Yet what always stands, is choice
Never too late, the choice to try
Also is the choice to be happy
poem by Kelvin Owusu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Is That Connected to The Topic?
When public options are questioned,
In a society when one is said to have the right to vote.
And restricting limitations are accepted without hesitation.
The choices of heard voices are as effective as empty promises.
'I don't have to define what's on my mind,
If I know what I'm doing from time to time.
And explanations I need not to find! '
How is that connected to the topic?
'I am not the one in this conversation,
'Promising' to be understood.
I am not seeking others to provide my level of comfort.
I've already made my choice...
Regardless of who decides I should choose from options.
I've disconnected myself from that confusion.
Basic, simple and direct!
That's how I like it.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Criticism alone can sever the root of materialism, fatalism, atheism, free-thinking, fanaticism, and superstition, which can be injurious universally; as well as of idealism and skepticism, which are dangerous chiefly to the Schools, and hardly allow of being handed on to the public.
Immanuel Kant in Critique of Pure Reason
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Be Cautious When Treating People With Respect
Be cautious when treating people with respect,
Especially those that are not accustomed to it.
They begin to expect,
Anything they do to be acceptable.
Being direct and factual...
When and if pointing out a shown irresponsibility,
Upsets their track record of being negligent.
And your outspoken candor,
Can and will offend them to no end.
You will be the first one they accuse,
Of abusing their insecurities...
Others ignore,
But choose to talk about this and them...
Behind their backs.
And whether this is known or not...
Those actions of others are preferred,
To keep their egos intact!
And you may be the first to express...
You will have none of that!
Never stop respecting,
But choose not to be a welcome mat!
And everyone knows what they are used for!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Choice
People carry so much hate in their hearts
It is like, they are filled with venom
Never did I try to actually hurt them
Hate, they are filled with.
My silence often everyone interprets as my weakness
They think they can just dominate me in the manner they desire
However, that is certainly not true
As I choose to be silent and calm because it is my choice
It is a choice which I have made, in order to live happily
Messing up with others is not what I do want
I just wish that things forever remain calm
Never, do I want to harm anyone, even with words
My choice is love, rest depends upon you.
poem by Rohit Sapra
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Their Closest Relatives
People hypnotized and transfixed,
Have grown more accustomed
To their movie productions.
And those creative emotional TV shows.
So accustomed to myths,
People are.
And the praying to what is believed,
To what has been embedded
In their minds,
Exists.
People do not wish to be told,
About the thought process of Nature.
And how that goes.
Or about Earth and Mother Nature.
The relationship between them.
How that works and what they know.
People wish and desire to accept,
They are more powerful
Than that which 'allowed' them life,
And gave to them breath.
People reject with a dismissing of this,
That which gifted them and permitted their lives.
People have grown more accustomed,
To their movie productions.
And those creative emotional TV shows.
Yet,
Give zero respect to their closest relatives.
The Sun, The Moon
And how together,
They affect their lives lived here on Earth.
People have chosen to become accustomed,
To ignoring as if they do not hear or listen.
Or are aware of them with comprehension.
People choose not to accept this as is.
People choose to believe from that which exist,
They are not born from it.
People choose for themselves to believe,
For them
There is no connection to perceive.
Even though what is they can not conceive,
Flows through their veins and bleeds!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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