Without Intercepting With Attempts
To say that something had been known.
Prior to it affecting with dire results manifested.
To sit and have this pondered...
As a study of it was being done to process its effectiveness?
And how it would be digested in its detriment?
By those affected when it is infested!
Without intercepting with attempts,
To deflect the devastating onslaught that could exist?
Is purely someone's negligence and neglected expressed BS!
And further confirms,
The heightened acceptance...
Of approved incompetence!
Since no one with 'validated' common sense,
Would admit they are this ignorant!
Unless people had grown accustomed,
To dancing with it in comfort!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
WHERE Is The Common Sense?
If there were degrees awarded,
For those earning diplomas in 'Incompetence'...
Few would question its existence.
It would be an established acknowledgement.
And since incompetence does exist,
WHERE is the common sense?
And at whose expense are those with degrees,
Trying to convince they now have achieved it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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
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People Who are Ignorant
People who are ignorant,
Have invested valuable time...
And money spent.
To prove their foolishness and ways,
Makes a difference.
Although these folks within their minds,
Have an absence of common sense.
And, are noticeably self destructive and crazed.
People who are ignorant,
Spend every dime spent...
Revealing their incompetence.
And taking direction from those who are right,
Is something they've never done.
Since deceit and decadence has been their main appetite.
People who are ignorant,
Believe an ability to thieve makes them great.
They believe their disasters started,
Shows their expertise and them being able to create.
But people who are ignorant,
Like these folks show they are and can be?
May seek an empathy from others for their stupidity.
But sincerity shown these empty headed 'entities'...
Is a waste of time.
Unless one wishes a suffering done endlessly.
However...
People who are ignorant,
Have been convinced their way of life...
Is one pursued by those who are jealous.
And are threaten because they are envied!
And standards they value,
Reflects upon them in a 'special' light.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Accustomed To An Irrational Way Of Life
A common sense,
Directed to someone accustomed.
To an irrational way of life,
Deluded and fantasized.
By the existence of praising myths,
Will begin unending arguments.
Over expenditures that exist,
On the feeding of a feast on the ability.
To maintain one's credit standing.
Especially when one's standing,
On debts owed.
Requires one to pay up,
For an out of control feasting to be paid.
As a 'sensible' way to pay for it with 'cash'.
Something demanded that one does not have.
And to state with a dignified presence,
That those awaiting to be paid for those losses generated.
Should be the ones already suffering,
From those mistakes made by those who fed at the feast.
To leave it in shambles,
And the ones left starving and homeless.
Are responsible and accountable to pay for a mess,
While those greedy keep.
Not only what they have hoarded,
But also the resources stuffed in their overflowing pockets.
A common sense,
Directed to someone accustomed.
To an irrational way of life,
Deluded and fantasized.
By the existence of praising myths,
Will begin unending arguments.
Over expenditures that exist,
On the feeding of a feast on the ability.
To maintain one's credit standing.
And
They have no intention to pay a cent,
For what has been spent.
To sustain their lofty positions,
Because they have been hypnotized.
On rights of their entitlements.
A common sense,
Directed to someone accustomed.
To an irrational way of life,
Is like introducing a reality never known.
Nor will that reality expressed be accepted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Slow To Self Detect
They are doing their best to see him defeated.
He does not represent,
Their interests with intention seen that's meant.
Nor has he given them any attention sent.
And with the lack of his wisdom,
As their guide...
They will witness their own demise,
To no one's surprise.
Those who can separate the ignorant from the wise.
Since in their eyes they find themselves,
Uncontested and bitterly incensed.
Although their madness has been slow to self detect.
A consciousness absent...
Of a common sense witnessed that is in effect.
With an incompetence effective as incompetence can get,
And stirred by a rowdy madcowed crowd.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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Requiring Scrutiny
A nonthreatening reverence,
Is encouraged with support...
Much quicker.
Without hesitation.
Than those requiring scrutiny.
A process that requires common sense.
With a procedure that connects to thought!
Often solicits debated forums.
To intellectualize in mindless babblings.
By those accustomed to comfort zones,
Set in the limitations of a proud and isolated heritage.
And condoning an ignorance of familiarities shared.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mixed Signals
The onslaught of truth,
Is not a perceived activity to pursue.
It is there for those aware of it!
It is there not to be abused to undo.
No need to look from the corners of your eyes,
At me or anyone else believed can be easily deceived.
The onslaught of truth,
Is not a perceived activity to pursue.
It is there for those aware of it!
It is there not to be abused to undo.
Look into a mirror.
The hour for self examination has arrived.
The results are clear.
Do not be surprised.
When one is accustomed to sending mixed signals...
The consistency of this,
Achieves results that are the quickest.
And one should come to grips with it.
Inconsistency begets distrust.
And any signs of loyalty disconnects quickly...
As if rushed.
To dissipate from expectations.
With debates of this then hushed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Unified By Their Nonsense Making
When people become offended,
By someone expressing an identity...
There is an acceptance of an unconsciousness,
That has become collectively defended,
By overwhelming ignorance.
And no one has to go to a mall,
To shop for the proof of the evidence.
A blindness is preferred by those following,
As if addicted sheep...
Down a road where the process of thinking,
Independently or not...
Is regarded as a threat to those easily upset,
By those they overhear communicating...
With a maturity expressed.
And not a sign of an argument building up,
Between them addressed with...
The spewing of cuss words heard.
This is a dangerous environment,
For anyone with intelligence to live in!
People with intelligence are suspicious,
Of making attempts to be 'better'...
Than everyone else.
Especially those,
Who prefer to live their lives...
Down to Earth and as foolishly as possible.
When people become offended,
By someone expressing an identity...
As a choice of one attempting to think,
With common sense...
Is not a recommendation,
For anyone choosing to separate themselves...
With a maturity,
From this kind of accepted behavior...
Chosen by those unified by their nonsense making,
And faithfully tied to rituals...
They neither understand nor respect with depth.
'If it was good enough for my mama and her mama...
And those 'mamas' known before that,
Well...
It is good enough for me!
And I will take that with two hamhocks,
Yams dripping with butter and gravy smothered chops.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When Greed Is the Issue
Well...
There is one thing he needs not try any longer,
To convince others he can do.
He is one of the biggest liars on Earth.
No certification is needed to prove that's true.
Everything he has done is evidence.
He carries that in his attitude.
Someone inept ever given authority...
Never disappoints,
They have incompetence they wish to prove.
Implusive and self indulgent.
Insecure and intelligence free.
People like this seldom admit...
Listening to others is at the top of their list.
They find that demeaning,
Since they would have to sit...
Through a learning process.
Of course he is ignorant.
But having wealth doesn't make one smart.
And obtaining that all one has to accomplish...
Is to know the art of conniving.
And enlist others to take part.
Especially when greed is the issue...
With deception in one's heart!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Process Isn't As Simple
I find it pointless,
To discuss how a process is done...
And takes place,
To anyone who has not expressed...
Just more of an interest.
If anyone has never been on stage to act.
Or has picked up a pen or a pencil,
To write...
Generating that kind of motivation in one's head...
Is to me like asking,
What does it take to lay an egg?
There is 'nothing' here to work with.
Neither is the person asking this queston a hen...
WITH a pencil OR a pen.
Nor has any attempts been made...
To lay that egg!
I am one of those people,
Who has to see some effort being achieved!
Especially if my assistance is requested.
The process isn't as simple,
As that hen may make it look!
'How is the rooster involved in all of this? '
Trust me.
Once you 'really' get a bonafide interest...?
You will begin the process of research,
On your own.
That 'desire' will be there.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Doing Something On Their Own
I can find the restrooms in my home,
Blindfolded.
There are two.
And I know what to do and how to use both,
For purposes to address an agenda.
I do not need a tour guide,
To make clear my familiarity.
Some have a need to have their hands held,
During a repeated process.
To feel a comfort in this repeating...
Something they do is correct.
And does not offend...
If they should be caught alone,
And doing something on their own
That may not be condoned or accepted.
Hoping that what is done...
Is approved by everyone!
Even if what they do,
Captures no one's attention.
With or without...
Making attempts to apply imagination.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Prized and Forbidden
There are those who prefer,
Their ignorance corralled.
Limited to a certain space.
As if keeping what they have is prized...
And forbidden.
While those who have expressed intelligence,
Enforce upon them a real threat!
This feast has infested,
With a manifestation of multi-leveled addictions!
Those showing signs of a thought process...
Should be warned to watch their backs.
As well as the amount of nonsense swallowed.
The squinting of eyes IS approved! But, don't shut them!
There are those expounding their beliefs.
And thumping on 'their' Bibles.
As if a keeping of an ignorance represents,
The intention of God's wishes...
That all mankind display depths of stupidity!
With an addition of more contradictions...
In direct conflict with hypocrisies.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Protesting In The Nonsense Called Denial
Like it to accept or not,
But those sharing deceits...
Are people of equal mentalities.
To gather together to make claims of being neglected.
And those looking for physical differences,
To live one step above the other...
Forget,
On which common soil...
There is a placing of similar footsteps.
With the going through the same process.
To gather together to make claims of being neglected.
And to make accusations they do,
That are seen to be reflected and familiar...
Only upsets the ones refusing to see themselves.
And those who refuse to see themselves,
Are all over the place...
Protesting in the nonsense called denial.
And...
To gather together to make claims of being neglected.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Process
Leave them alone!
You pose a threat,
To their process.
'Huh?
Their process?
What Process?
Their process doesn't exist! '
Sssshhh...
Quietly.
That's why you must leave them alone.
They are not aware of it.
And you...
Trying to get them to make some sense,
Is upsetting.
Just go along with it.
'Go along with what? '
The 'process'.
'But it doesn't exist.'
You know it and I know it.
Why can't you just leave it alone...
And let them pretend?
Why is it so important to you,
That they become aware and conscious?
Why?
There are several other charities,
To which you can donate your time and efforts.
In this case...
These minds have already been wasted.
Trust me.
Why do you think I whisper to you?
There are only a few of us left with the power to think.
Trust me?
Why do you think I whisper to you?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Those Inclined To Be Most Radical
Is it possible for anyone to escape,
The onslaught of a marketing of decadence?
Is it possible to ignore,
The mental illnesses...
Of someone who just may live next door?
Intellectuals sitting back,
With theories and graphs...
To compare demographics,
Of those who might be lacking...
In social skills and tasks,
Have no answers when asked...
Why such acts are rising fast...
In their own backyards.
Is it possible for anyone to escape,
The onslaught of a marketing of decadence?
Is it possible to ignore,
The mental illnesses...
Of someone who just may live next door?
And those who pass their judgements,
On those who have less...
Are themselves most emotionally affected.
And yet...
They are the ones,
With their research completed and studies done...
Trying to convince their outlooks on life are practical.
But observation of these disturbing events...
Proves to anyone witnessing,
Who are the ones with common sense...
And who are those inclined to be most radical.
With a rampaging done they do to be excused.
'But isn't what you do a passing of judgement? '
If you and I sat here observing this with silent lips,
Would what is viewed still exist?
Or will our ignoring it...
Assist it in becoming less effective and fade away?
And 'if' it stays and increases...
Will I then be passing judgement?
Or be thought of as less patriotic?
Because it then becomes a condition of society.
You know me!
I only see what it is.
Not what it aint.
With a censoring done by those pretentious.
To claim 'negative' observations,
Are made by those embittered and disgruntled.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Until This Adventure Ends
I have no purpose meant,
To identify and acknowledge...
That which does exist.
With a repeatedness...
That collects dust and sits!
As if I am assigned,
To show others...
How to stunt and rust their minds!
I am only obligated to be aware,
And expand my consciousness.
With an acceptance of a process...
Some who do this,
Have labelled as growth!
With a daring to live life...
And to share the findings that are there.
Until this adventure ends.
Those accustomed to the taste of stale bread...
Seem to always find the time to comment on it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Does Them In
So sad are they with minds limited.
They had paid to obtain an intelligence...
But leave schools degreed,
Without one hint...
Of how to apply common sense.
And they seek employment...
With resumés that say they qualify!
But not a thought connects,
That proves a thinking process.
Although they are selected.
Because of their hair...
And the color of their eyes.
And salaried they are...
To expose their incompetence...
That eventually represents,
A complete ineptness.
But that does not prevent,
A promotion based only...
On their attractiveness!
And they are placed in positions,
To discourage those who are far more brilliant!
Why?
To protect a host of insecurities.
As they try to thrive on greed...
As a bleeding economy dies.
Without an implementation,
Of an embracing did...
With a true diversification done!
And this does them in,
In the end!
Human resources neglected,
Does not lead to one's success.
Regret is what one frets.
Regret is what is left and met.
Regret is what reflects the mess.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Social Illiterates
Why are the people angry?
'Comments made to them,
Were upsetting when expressed.'
But...
Were they true?
And from who?
'All of it was true.
And everyone listening knew it too.
Those who stayed after the booing died down.
And paid attention with a listening done.'
Then...
What is the problem?
'The speaker who spoke,
Came dressed to impress.
And no one expected,
Their delusions to become affected...
By such an effectiveness as to them addressed.'
So what did the speaker say?
'He kept calling them social illiterates.
And many of them began to leave,
Saying...
No one is going to tell them,
They are 'dumb' and do not know how to read.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When Intentions Meant Are Not Mentioned
Can we share thoughts without speaking?
And how can that be validated?
If neither of us are near,
To appreciate what we hear?
No emotion I've known to feel,
Has ever been exchanged.
To have someone understand,
And comprehend...
From the outside to the inside.
Knowing what is felt,
Deep within.
Can love be shared and said is there,
But not expressed at all?
Can a broken heart be spared despair?
To not process pain,
Before any tears begin to fall?
And if those tears should fall from eyes,
Could alibis stop what is shown?
Empathy sent from distances given,
Isn't empathy whispered or a hug to convince.
Can we share thoughts without speaking?
And how can that be validated?
If neither of us are near to appreciate this...
Or witness a difference made.
When intentions meant are not mentioned...
Can relationships mend to save?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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