With No Where But Lower To Go
You haven't dished anything on me,
I haven't dished on my self.
Or left spilled milk left to dip.
I'm living my life with a faith I believe.
And not doing it passing judgement,
As many do...gleefully!
Those who hide and backbite too.
Are accustomed to slither the way they do.
Some of them want an attention they get.
And some no one can befriend!
They perceive this as a weakness.
With a disrespecting they begin!
Anyone that hasn't been mentioned,
In enviroments where snakes reside...
Are not the ones that are decided,
Their lives are to be criticized.
Only the ones who attempt to get things done,
Are subjected to some dirt thrown to appease for fun.
With something,
Whatever it is...
To malign and despise an affliction on someone.
These are the times and the days of our lives.
And those living 'downlow' are the most miserable.
With no where but lower to go.
And tears to cry to expose and show.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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Laugh If You Want To
I don't care what that outside looks like.
Or that picture painted they want you to believe.
I've been living on the inside,
For years!
Day AND night.
And nothing about my life,
I will allow deceivers conceive for you to perceive.
The ones who have been smiling in your face,
Are the very same ones who slither around like snakes.
And they know I know them too well.
I've only recently begin to live a life,
Protected by faith and a happiness within that dwells.
Shocked they are,
I have survived going through their hell.
And that's the only reason why...
They have chosen you their next victim,
To smooze with a feast...
Before they sink their teeth in you,
With a demoralizing to then eat you alive.
And if you do survive...
You too will have that same story to tell.
Laugh if you want to!
That's exactly what they want you to do!
Laugh if you wanted to!
But don't come to me,
When they begin on you to chew!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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Days Of Our Lives
How many times have you walked through my door
How many times have you heard my song before
How many lines until the end of time
These are the days of our lives
How many times did you hear mother say
You would do fine if you didn't sleep all day
Oh mother dear, I'll get a job next year
These are the days of our lives
How many times did you walk down the street
Avoiding cracks that were thrown at your feet
These rainy days were sent to make us pay
But these are the days of our lives
How many roads must a woman walk down
How many walls will surround the town
All that I am could get us out of here
These are the days of our lives
Did you believe in the stories at night
Weren't you afraid when they turned out the light
Oh, such a gas, I'm sorry it won't last
These are the days of our lives
These are the days that some of us regret
These are the days we learn to forget
These are the days that turn us out this way
These are the days of our lives
Of our lives
song performed by by Travis

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Over Our Heads
I don't think you love me
Confusion settling in
I don't think I'll be staying
Around here, anymore
There's no question that I love you
But I'm living in my own time
And here I am debating
Whether I'm wrong, or right
Who am I
To make a judgement of
Your life
I'm only
Passing by
Passing by
All the promises I gave you
Helped me to survive
And all the times I wished you'd save me
You were the love of my life
Who am I
To make a judgement of
Your life
I'm only
Passing by
Passing by
Who am I
To make a judgement of
Your life
I'm only
Passing by
Passing by
Who am I
To make a judgement of
Your life
I'm only
Passing by
Passing by
I'm only passing by ...
song performed by by Zero 7

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who's Living With That Mission?
Who here,
Lives to dance and sing?
Who here,
Lives to hear the birds singing?
And who here,
Lives their life just to give?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who here,
Wakes up to give a damn?
Who here,
Demands to give a helping hand?
And who here,
Knows that peace has a chance?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who here,
Thinks about their fellowman?
Who here,
Gives their neighbor understanding?
And who here,
Wants the bleeding done by man...
To end and please them?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who here,
Thinks about what is right?
Who here,
Wants to do that day and night?
And who here,
Prays conflicts and fights
Would end!
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who here,
Lives to dance and sing?
Who here,
Lives to hear the birds singing?
And who here,
Lives their life just to give?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
And who here,
Wants the bleeding done by man...
To end and please them?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that,
As ambition?
To live to give as a mission?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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Julia
Danger
I've been told to expect it
I begin my descent
Down the cold granite steps
And who could have turned among those I confide in?
I think that I know what I haven't known yet
'Cause a week is a month
and an hour a day
When your reaching just pushes it further away
With your past and your future precisely divided
Am I at that moment?
I haven't decided
And stretching out into the sea... Aquitana
Is that what the prophet told me he saw?
You gave it to me but I really don't want it
I came out on top by the luck of the draw
'Cause a week is a month and an hour a day
When your reaching just pushes it further away
And what's the return on the faith I've provided?
I think that I know now but I haven't decided
song performed by by Phish

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pastime Paradise
Theyve been spending most their lives
Living in a pastime paradise
Theyve been spending most their lives
Living in a pastime paradise
Theyve been wasting most their time
Glorifying days long gone behind
Theyve been wasting most their days
In remembrance of ignorance oldest praise
Tell me who of them will come to be
How many of them are you and me
Dissipation
Race relations
Consolation
Segregation
Dispensation
Isolation
Exploitation
Mutilation
Mutations
Miscreation
Confirmation...to the evils of the world
Theyve been spending most their lives
Living in a future paradise
Theyve been spending most their lives
Living in a future paradise
Theyve been looking in their minds
For the day that sorrows gone from time
They keep telling of the day
When the savior of love will come to stay
Tell me who of them will come to be
How many of them are you and me
Proclamation
Of race relations
Consolation
Integretion
Verification
Of revelations
Acclamation
World salvation
Vibrations
Stimulation
Confirmation...to the peace of the world
Theyve been spending most their lives
Living in a pastime paradise
Theyve been spending most their lives
Living in a pastime paradise
Theyve been spending most their lives
Living in a future paradise
Theyve been spending most their lives
Living in a future paradise
Weve been spending too much of our lives
Living in a pastime paradise
Lets start living our lives
Living for the future paradise
Praise to our lives
Living for the future paradise
Shame to anyones lives
Living in the pastime paradise
song performed by by Stevie Wonder

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Over Medicating With A Self Importance
We can't imitate the living of life.
We can,
However.
Prevent others from doing so.
To limit eventually,
Our own growth process.
And the evidence of that,
Does not need a tour guide.
We can't imitate the living of life.
Nor can we insist what is not visible exists.
But so much of life lived is not visible...
To expose to anyone to prove it being done.
Most of life lived when given,
Is based on sheer faith and confidence.
Patience and the giving of sacrificial time.
With the knowing in one's mind.
Something divine is keeping track of the mess,
Human beings have made in attempts to perfect nonsense.
We can't imitate the living of life.
Once one has been blessed with it.
There is something genuine and real,
About the feelings one has.
We can,
However.
Prevent others from doing so.
To leave them to live their own lives.
And allow others to learn and grow,
For the sharing of those experiences.
But many don't get this!
Without that interdependence.
We limit eventually,
Our own growth process.
And the evidence of that,
Does not need a tour guide.
We would rather destroy other lives,
With the enforcement of values and standards...
We perceive with beliefs are best for others,
When in fact.
We are hard pressed to show any evidence,
To convince within our own minds.
Of that working for ourselves.
But an over medicating with a self importance?
We can do with the right prescription.
Not to take but to test.
With the observing of the affects on others.
To arrive at a feeling of perfection.
And that,
As of yet.
Can not be found.
However.
We can always say,
What we believe has been achieved.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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In Far Too Many Numbers They Rise (In Answer To Maya Angelou)
There are many facts in history
of people both ignorant and wise;
at times I look with incredulity
at how people multiply to rise
having as many children as they can do,
with diarrhoea, living in gloom,
with blown up bellies where food run through,
living in the very red-brown dirt in doom
without a look of hope in their eyes
where president-for-life dictators govern
with an iron rod, not hearing weakened cries,
while for civilization, for food they yearn;
where platinum, gold and copper mines
are sold to the Chinese, are from the country apart,
while parts of Africa goes into total decline
and to make a living is extremely hard.
Does this poem of mine offend you?
Unfortunately I do not deal in lies,
unfortunately these facts are very true
and to some people it’s no surprise
as AIDS, poverty, pestilence runs as a black tide
that comes in unstoppable waves of pain
from which very few of the poorest people can hide,
as far too many deaths happen again and again
and from this destruction very few get clear
while for something better they constantly crave
as their daily lives are always lived in fear,
as far too many go to a very early grave.
Still people multiply to rise under blue harsh skies
in far too many numbers, to never be free,
from lives that many of them do despise,
from lives lived in constant poverty.
poem by Gert Strydom

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I Choose To Heal
I've decided not to be reminded of my griefs.
I've learned that carrying a baggage of sorrows,
Only weighs on my back...
Unhappiness to be left to be repeatedly monitored.
Tears cried as others measured my pain,
On a scale from one to ten...
Are days I've chosen not to live.
Again!
And again.
AND...again without end.
Why should I celebrate my agony,
On a regular basis?
What does doing this for me achieve?
A hatred and bitterness I pray from me will leave?
Or a constant search to seek validation,
How miserable my life lived can be?
NO!
For others that may be so,
To acknowledge without a letting go.
But for me...
My happiness comes with the knowing,
I can forgive.
Not forgot!
My mind wont let me do it.
But make attempts to forgive I can do.
I've decided not to be reminded of my griefs.
I've learned that carrying a baggage of sorrows,
Only weighs on my back...
Unhappiness to be left to be repeatedly monitored.
I choose not to keep my healing wounds,
Left to pick to bleed repeatedly in anger.
I choose with faith,
That God will handle my business.
I choose with faith,
God has my back.
And will correct all that has gone wrong,
To make right for my life.
I choose with faith,
That God will handle my business.
I choose to heal,
Not to relive moments of my agonies.
I already know what it takes to moan.
I already know that process.
I've renewed my commitment to living.
And give my deepest respect,
To those who had experienced...
Untimely deaths.
I've decided not to be reminded of my griefs.
I've learned that carrying a baggage of sorrows,
Only weighs on my back...
Unhappiness to be left to be repeatedly monitored.
I choose not to keep my healing wounds,
Left to pick to bleed repeatedly in anger.
I choose to heal.
Not to be left,
For the rest of my life dropping tears wept.
To spend in the process of mourning.
Riding high on the shoulders of grief.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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Under Duress
It is getting increasingly obvious...
The difference between,
Those who are comfortable in their skins.
And those trying to fit in,
To get paid some attention.
Those attached to life,
From a perception of limitation...
Are made easy to believe,
A presentation that attracts...
The physicality of things,
Is how life should be lived.
And those faith based beings,
Seem to be spiritually encouraged.
They are the ones motivated first,
By an inspiration to create...
From a place innovation is born.
To allow others to plagiarize to live easier lives.
It is getting increasingly obvious...
The difference between,
Those who are comfortable in their skins.
And those trying to fit in,
To get paid some attention.
They become frustrated by another's success.
They believe they are entitled to be self centered,
With an expression of selfishness.
They perceive those homeless and hungry,
As the ones unlucky who became suppressed.
But the ones wishing to impress,
Are the ones self destructing...
From a lack of consciousness they do not possess.
Those attached to life,
From a perception of limitation...
Are made easy to believe,
A presentation that attracts...
The physicality of things,
Is a quality of life to live as addressed.
And if it is?
Why are people like this,
So unhappy...
With themselves?
And if it is the kind of life to live,
Why are people living lives like this,
Finding more and more...
Their beliefs being dismissed?
And they find themselves,
Living under duress.
Which is under the rest,
Of those historically oppressed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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Left To Examine
People seldom select rebellion.
From a truth spoken and understood.
Yet those upset and labelled rebels,
Know too well...
They've been deceived and meant to be.
With perceptions shallow and kept to believe,
And fed to a consciousness deluded to depths.
And difficult it is to keep people like this,
Conformed to accept values distanced from reality.
Realities often thought to be militant with intent.
And long mentioned by the ones...
People decided they would choose to shun.
But themselves left to examine and now have begun,
Analyzing traditions and values with a doing done.
With a wondering of which standards to use.
Where to go and who to question,
To release them from confusion.
And self inflicting mental abuse.
Protected in historic denial hypnotized to seduce.
Left to examine...
These times.
And how will they be...
Redefined.
How will that begin to be done,
These times.
And how will they be...
Redefined.
Left to examine...
These times.
And how will they be...
Redefined.
How will that begin to be done,
These times.
And how will they affect,
Minds!
Left to examine...
In the coming of the changing times.
And...
How will that begin to be done,
In minds,
Left to examine...
In the coming of the changing times.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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Regardless If Being Assessed
I have never been curious of those,
Who have a lot to say about others.
But keep themselves hidden behind masks,
As if afraid to show their own faces.
Or have I been interested at all in those,
Who introduce what they do...
As if to do this puts them high on a judgement list.
I can tell in a minute who is ambitious.
And who lives to experience life without it being a task.
But those who live just to be pretentious,
Aren't as interesting as the ones...
Who seem to be unafraid to walk upon an unchartered path.
To be who they are and say whatever they like.
Regardless if being assessed by others addressing it.
'Did you hear what was said about you? '
~Of course I did.
They are not the only ones here assessing too.
Feeding imaginations I find exciting to do.
I've grown accustomed to being stripped naked,
Without being asked!
Or being in the presence of those disrespecting!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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Freed To See Others Not As Equals
There are times I'd like to confess,
My wish to address those professed...
To be selected 'blessed and highly favored' folks.
The ones who set themselves aside,
As having more knowledge to know...
How to live their lives as The Almighty has decided.
As an excuse to live their lives,
Isolated and divided.
Everyone living is a work-in-progress.
No one lives perfectly in a world beset with temptations.
Struggling to survive these days is an everyday test.
And to claim to be favored from the rest who are tested,
Is the height of a self centeredness...
One believes is freed to see others not as equals.
But as those who 'sin' doing things they pretend,
Separates them with an advantage to pass their judgements.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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I Haven't Forgotten
I haven't forgotten when I meet you first!
I haven't forgotten when I greet you last!
I haven't forgotten your pretty face!
I haven't forgotten your smile and grace!
I haven't forgotten how we started chatting!
I haven't forgotten when we started dating!
I haven't forgotten our last walk together!
I haven't forgotten how I became a loser!
I haven't forgotten how it became too late!
I haven't forgotten when I understood fate!
I haven't forgotten that summer's northwester!
I haven't forgotten and won't forget ever!
poem by Asif Andalib

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Winter Days Why Do You Came!
Snowy winter days once again came!
Ah Winter days
how did you came?
Haven't you met through your road crying summer days?
Haven't you met through your ways crying Autumn days?
Ah snowy winter days
Haven't you met your friends
Through your road
while you were coming here
Ah sweet summer days
They left us in vain
They Saw our pain
Even the sun above cried for children's ache
First time through my life time
I knew even the sun above has a heart.
While unfortunately human beings didn't have!
Ah chilly winter days how could you come here?
Haven't you met through your road mourning Autumn days.
They were broken when they left
As i know you are friends.
If you ever met them there
They would tell you about our aches.
How pain we've passed through
They saw and they felt
They went home crying all alone
Ah snowy cold winter days how could you come here?
While our world is bared it's clothes
And humanIty is bared of pity as well as the mercy
Poverty huged the cold and has wrapped our world
Ah, how much pain can we bear yet!
Ah, poor souls are in pain till the vein!
poem by Sossi Khachadourian

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I haven't lost faith in human nature and I haven't decided to be less compassionate to strangers.
quote by Armistead Maupin

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home By The Sea
Creeping up the blind side, shinning up the wall
Stealing thru the dark of night
Climbing thru a window, stepping to the floor
Checking to the left and the right
Picking up the pieces, putting them away
Something doesnt feel quite right
Help me someone, let me out of here
Then out of the dark was suddenly heard
Welcome to the home by the sea
Coming out the woodwork, thru the open door
Pushing from above and below
Shadows but no substance, in the shape of men
Round and down and sideways they go
Adrift without direction, eyes that hold despair
Then as one they sign and they moan
Help us someone, let us out of here
Living here so long undisturbed
Dreaming of the time we were free
So many years ago
Before the time when we first heard
Welcome to the home by the sea
Sit down sit down
Sit down sit down sit down
As we relive our lives in what we tell you
Images of sorrow, pictures of delight
Things that go to make up a life
Endless days of summer longer nights of gloom
Waiting for the morning light
Scenes of unimportance, photos in a frame
Things that go to make up a life
Help us someone, let us out of here
Cos living here so long undisturbed
Dreaming of the time we were free
So many years ago
Before the time when we first heard
Welcome to the home by the sea
Sit down sit down
Sit down sit down sit down sit down
As we relive out lives in what we tell you
Let us relive out lives in what we tell you
Sit down sit down sit down
Cos you wont get away
No with us you will stay
For the rest of your days - sit down
As we relive our lives in what we tell you
Let us relive our lives in what we tell you
song performed by by Genesis

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vive La Vida
In this world there is so much anger
Our lives are in danger
We are all living in fears
We've got to stop the tears
Chorus: life is for living
So why must we wait
We all need some loving
So then why do we hate?
In south africa things are still the same
The face of humanity still hasn't changed
People have to fight to live together
And share with one another
Chorus
We can change this to a better place for all
If we listen to others when they call
Give a shoulder to lean on when they fall
Let us bring down the apartheid wall
Innocent people pay with their lives
Cause the truth, it cuts like a knife
Mandela's life is wasted in jail
Raise your voices for freedom
Chorus ( 3 x)
Woza mandela
Sibizi' gama lakho
Woza mandela
song performed by by Santana

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You've Enjoyed
I thought you would stay as dumb as possible?
Where has this test failed?
There is no one else left,
To depict low life and ignorance AND incompetence,
Except...?
Well...
I thought you would stay as dumb as possible?
There is no where else to turn.
To seek a replacement.
Except...?
I thought you would stay as dumb as possible?
Everything to keep your intelligence unnoticed,
We thought had been done.
Tell me...
I mean 'us',
Tell us more embarrassing things about yourself.
Something tells me...
You have not been embarrassed at all.
Your eyes begin to 'twinkle'...
Each time you are sought to reveal some 'dirt'.
Have you done this on purpose?
Believing we would think you to be embarrassed?
In fact...
You've enjoyed every moment of being depicted like that!
Haven't you?
You have...
Haven't you?
Knowing we would find,
That the being embarrassed...
Does nothing to your cost of expense.
Does it?
Why don't you answer me?
'Oh!
So NOW you want to know what my thoughts are?
And who pays me for this admission?
You?
Or 'we'? ...or both? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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September 24th 1945
The most beautiful sea:
hasn't been crossed yet.
The most beautiful child:
hasn't grown up yet.
Our most beautiful days:
we haven't seen yet.
And the most beautiful words I wanted to tell you
I haven't said yet...
poem by Nazim Hikmet

Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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