You Seem To Have The Whole Pot Of That To Yourself!
How utterly preposterous you are...
To be consumed of thought that my thoughts,
Are of your making.
That my desire to express my understanding...
Would be a point of view,
Of your...
Point of view explored.
How boring can you get?
To 'assume' that is my quest.
Your limitedness is not my goal at all.
How utterly preposterous you are...
To be consumed of thought that my thoughts,
Are of your making.
You must have learned that from some historical teachings.
Something that assured you with ego and overconfidence.
Something to you that only makes sense!
As for me...?
You are just an obstacle on my journey.
An issue like baggage,
Dealt with and ignored!
How utterly preposterous you are...
To be consumed of thought that my thoughts,
Are of your making.
Self destruction is not my cup of tea.
You seem to have the whole pot of that to yourself!
And it appears you find it quite delicious?
I have no taste for that kind of waste!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Something You've Done
You know what you are.
Did my validation,
Confirm your findings?
Did you take a survey...
From those whose opinions you trust?
Was there a collective thought about you...
That boosted your ego up?
Or was any reality gained...
To refrain from making excuses?
Something I was never taught to do,
While living in the projects.
And in poverty too!
But you know what you are!
Unfortunately you don't like what you see.
And what is observed is of your making!
A sense of living out your own fantasies.
Something you've done and now can not believe.
It will help if you awakened from your faking.
Your dramatics have bored,
And have become ignored!
Although that task of hiding behind a mask,
May for you be heartbreaking!
But removing shallowness from your mind,
Will not be shattering or Earth shaking...
At all!
Not for those who have not overdosed on you.
And can see right through,
That crumbling wall you seem to think
Some can not see you for you!
And those tired attitudes you cling to!
It's about 'life'!
And how others are living theirs...
Is not being consumed by thoughts of you!
This too I am sure you will not believe!
No one I know think of you as their dependency!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Global Freedom Trending Point
make the comment
mark the thought
make it like you like it
marking thoughts
marking presence
marking opinion mind
to read or not to read
is not the point
point is to comment
point is opinion expressed
point is freedom of speech
point is feel free to express
importance is making the point
social spectrum compass point
global freedom trending point
poem by Terence George Craddock
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My Thoughts
Thought in the eyes,
The ears.
Thought in mind,
The brain,
Thought in heart,
The soul.
Great thought is great
when it becomes great deeds.
With my thoughts within
Building my world within
Learning with thought;
Is great learning wisdom.
Learning without thought,
Is opportunity lost.
Thought for others
Thought for God
Thought for good
Thought for God’s blessing
Thoughts teach me,
Thoughts educate me,
Thoughts clarify me,
Thoughts enlighten me.
Thoughts make me wise
Thoughts make me patience
Thoughts make me trust others
Thoughts make me clam.
Thoughts before act
Is smart and wise
Act before thoughts
Is stupid and foolish
That’s my thoughts
They make thinking clear
They make belief deepen
They make confidence high.
In thoughts, my world
In my world, make my thoughts.
In thoughts, my words
In my words, make my speech
It’s my thoughts count
Counting my thoughts
To endless counting thoughts
Thinking the thoughts endlessly
My thoughts and thoughts again.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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(Disorder Poem) A Man With A Million Thoughts - Attention Decifit Disorder
A man with a million thoughts.
How does he bring organization to them all?
This chaos is where I have began.
So a solution lies in the end.
Reworking it.
Reworking it
I missed something their
I missed something here
How do I perfect so many thoughts all at once
It is add to the extreme.
I can't focus on just one thing.
I must express every view point thoroughly.
Yet with it misses nailing it exactly as I thought.
With errors I am riddled.
Like a man playing twenty fiddles
How do I edit my own craziness?
~this is describing how I feel at times with all my thoughts.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Just the Thought of You
When days like these...
Come and go to leave me feeling drained,
And weak.
Just the thought of you,
Brightens my point of view.
Giving me a strength to endure.
Just the thought of you,
Helps me through...
When days like these,
Traps me inside to welcome despair.
You may be there and not here,
When days like these...
Seem to come along with a mission to squeeze,
Every breath I breathe.
Just the thought of you,
Unclouds my view.
When days like these...
Come to pursue those moments I am alone.
And subdued in wishes I desire to exist.
But you give me reasons to remember,
I am loved!
And I choose those thoughts of you,
To keep me lifted.
When days like these insist to visit me.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Consumed Within the Process
Consumed within the process
That process we call life.
Immuned? Not from this process.
It keeps the vision near yet uncompromised.
And far enough to become realized.
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed within the process.
That process we call life.
Immuned?
Not from this process!
It keeps the vision near yet uncompromised.
And far enough to become realized.
Closing its eyes only when it wishes,
To call itself out!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
It keeps the vision in precision,
Until it's in 'all' sights.
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
It keeps the vision in precision,
Until it's in 'all' sights.
Consumed.
Within the process.
Just consumed.
Within the process this process.
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Suffering. (Acrostic)
Suffering internally,
Utterly consumed with pain,
Far from a solution,
Fast to run but not crying the blues.
Even little things annoy you.
Rest assured the tide will change!
Inner pain is what tranforms you...
Never forget that fact my friend-
Get focused now, get on the mend.
Written January 22 2008
poem by Shelley L Baxter Stanley
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Poem: Temptations
Why is it, that the vilest of temptations
seek to violate my mind, during moments…
of weakness, solitude and prayer time?
Is it not enough that my inner person
has been consumed with the filth of my flesh?
How much longer must I wait for the body
of incorruption that will suit me in eternity?
Though I can't seem to stop sinning,
is it wrong to want to curb its unwanted flow?
These temptations appeal to my carnality,
but I find their continuing stream tiresome.
Spiritual perfection is an ideal, that cannot…
be achieved in today's earthly journey.
And yet, to utterly give up and intentionally sin,
will never be an improvement of my fallen condition.
How much training is required to reject ungodliness?
O, Lord, please strengthen my spirit to capture
and discard these thought contaminations…
by making my flesh permanently dead to their allure
and by always drawing me ever closer to You!
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Rom 3: 23; Tit 2: 11-14; Col 3: 1-11
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http: //www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
poem by Joseph James Breunig 3rd
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We Are A People Of Peace
Sir?
There is an elderly woman,
Carrying what appears to be roses...
On the battlefield.
'That's preposterous.'
No sir?
It is not a rhinoceros.
'I said preposterous.
Like a hippopotamus.'
Sir...
What we see is not anonymous.
We all see it is a woman.
What shall we do with the roses?
Sir?
Sir?
'I'm not getting paid enough.'
Sir?
Will you make a decision.
That's all we ask.
'I would love to tell you where to put them? '
We are closing in on a nearby town.
We could ask if the woman would like us,
To locate a vase?
This will prove to everyone,
We are a people of peace.
'What is going on?
WHAT IS GOING ON?
Has EVERYONE gone mad? '
No sir.
We all are very calm.
It is a little hot.
You are the only one shouting.
Maybe the heat is beginning to affect you?
Perhaps you've been on too many missions of peace?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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CareFree~
Come dance me into silly-
Perhaps, a preposterous interlude...
Maybe, even a Devil-May Care attitude
Or a Reckless Abandon altitude;
Fly me to higher elevations -
To the spire of the mount
Where air is lighter than the ether
Where scruples & character don't count;
Let us become just a vapor...
Translucent souls of light, entwined
Dance me into joyful & gleeful
Embrace me with: KIND;
Giggle me into near rediculous-
Numb my worries of this day...
Two-step me into utterly delerious
Turn my December into a full bloom of May;
poem by Theodora Onken
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He asked me if I'd take a penny for my thoughts.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
and I told him the things on my mind.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
I had thought then I'd be paid in kind.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
and the closest friends we came to be.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
I thought then the one he cared for, was me.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
now rich with my thoughts he was.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
I thought his reason was more than 'just because'.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
he's made me rich with a broken heart.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
now my life has a broken start.
Thinking
I think and think
and every single thought
comes into my mind
as if it were caught
in a spidery web
that sticks like glue
until that thought
is finally through.
Some thoughts are happy
and they are most welcome.
Some thoughts are sad
and then I'm overrun
with tears that fill my eyes
like a pool.
I cry out these thoughts,
my number one rule.
For to hold back my tears
and not let them flow
would drown my thinking
and where would they go?
Into a whirlpool
that circles around
making my demeanor
take me down?
No, I say.
Pick up your pen.
Write those thoughts
and say amen.
Read them aloud
for they're now on a page,
not trapped in my mind
like a bird in a cage.
Freedom, freedom
my mind is free.
Oh how rewarding
that can be.
Enjoy it I say
for it won't last long
for I think and I think
as my life moves along.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Poet's Rue
I remember as a young boy
Sitting on top Mount Parnassus
Consumed in writing I enjoyed.
Mostly poetry to express
At the time my innermost thoughts
While below my childhood playmates
Romped and played and most often fought.
And myself trying to translate
Feelings into coherent thought
And writing them down on paper.
I recollect those times that taught
Self- discipline behavior.
Yet if I lived it all again
I would be one of those children.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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It Doesn't Take a Rocket Scientist
The duality of false representation,
Eventually shows the origin...
From where it has been created.
Consumed by ego,
Is their downfall!
And it doesn't take a rocket scientist,
To connect the culprits to their deeds.
Consumed by ego,
Is their downfall!
There is a trail of incompetence,
Wherever they go...
With a wish to get acknowledgement,
And undeserving praise.
Consumed by ego,
Is their downfall!
And unfortunate are those,
Committed to follow.
Consumed by ego,
Is their downfall!
And shoulders to cry on,
They seek to weep.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You have no set in my thought
.
The Sun is set;
It slips out of my thought.
The Moon is set;
It slips out of my thought.
When you exited
You stay put in my thought.
When I hear some
By your name, you’re my thought.
You have not set
In my memory and thoughts.
You are not set
To my fervour and thoughts.
When I see some
As lean, you come to my thought.
When some one is
Coy, you strike my thought.
You cannot set
Though there is twilight.
I cannot let
You slip out of my concept.
For you have met
All needs of my amorous thought.
27.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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In a Boast Stayed Boosted
Consumed,
With a self hatred.
And makes more room....
For a mind to sit,
Assuming doom.
Consumed,
With a self hatred.
And makes more room....
For a mind to sit,
Assuming doom.
Eyes on demise!
With fire and brimstone in their sights.
And tantillized by cries of crisis.
To observe with a wish not to grow from it.
That validates misfits witnessed!
Consumed,
With a self hatred.
And makes more room....
For a mind to sit,
Assuming doom.
Consumed,
With a self hatred.
And makes more room....
For a mind to sit,
Assuming doom.
Proud,
To be among those rowdy!
Those who show no benefit,
That comes to those who stir conflict.
And gloom is a boast stayed boosted.
That feeds upon such limitness,
Of those who love it on their minds and lips.
And...
Consumed,
With a self hatred.
To observe with a wish not to grow from it.
That validates misfits witnessed!
And proud,
To be among those rowdy!
Those who show no benefit,
That comes to those who stir conflict.
And proud,
To be among those rowdy!
Those who show no benefit,
That comes to those who stir conflict.
And proud,
To be among those rowdy!
Those who show no benefit,
That comes to those who stir conflict.
And giving up more attitude...
To those who view them useless,
And...
Consumed,
In a boast stayed boosted!
And ready to be roosters noosed...
Plucked to be served after roasting,
With a juice or good brew!
And...
Consumed,
In a boast stayed boosted!
And...
Consumed,
In a boast stayed boosted!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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So Close, So Far
You said they’d never change you
You said they’d never morph you to their own
You said you’d never be a strategy
You said destiny didn’t apply to you
Yet there you lay
Consumed by fate
The moon of your desire
Casts an Eclipse on the
Sunshine of your hate
Overwhelming emotions
Sometimes for the better
Sometimes for the worst
A drawn door
Big enough to let pain leak out
In a river of red
Black your eyes blind
Clothe yourself invisible
They’ll still break into your thoughts
And pull for information
Funny how you thought I loved you
Funny how you thought we’d last
Funny how you heard me screaming
And left me there to die
But now you want me
And now I’m gone
But you’ll be waiting
Not far from the trigger
Because the razor isn’t enough anymore
Don’t think I don’t know that
Because when you’re done that gun is mine
So go ahead and dig my grave
And I’ll dig yours
And we can die together
So far apart
poem by Elizabeth Celestino
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Humanity is consumed by a great desire: to touch the sky.
Camelia Oprița in The wall of thoughts
Submitted by Alexander Ghe
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Existing As Is and Not Wished
I pray everyday to understand the unknown.
To grasp onto sensibilities.
Shown.
Hoping to uncover a hint of relevance.
With a belief something done,
Is making sense to someone...
Somewhere.
In this mental collective,
Referred to as 'consciousness'.
Or an interpretation of it.
Finding an acceptance.
If not present in my own environment,
To exist as is.
Beyond values given,
To preposterous myths.
With an awakening of a consciousness...
Experienced!
And not wished as a possibility.
Many choose to ignore.
But available to those curious.
And motivated with ambition.
Discovered as relevant.
To be explored.
And not chased away by superstitions,
Employed.
To limit a life one decides,
And has a right to live enjoyed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Brephos
Although it is easy for one to think, it is not always easy for one to write
Not all thoughts can be expressed into words, nor should they. Rousseau said in his solitary walks or was it his confessions? That his most beautiful thoughts died in him as quick as he thought them and how he at the time wished he had a pen in hand to write them all down. Those thoughts are dead, but perhaps those same thoughts are born in others written down somewhere in all of infinite time. Some thoughts like some lives are not meant to be born. The seed of this thought, watered by my serene tears, germinates in my soul as I write this letter. Still I can't find the words to express its beauty, its paradox, its mystery. The seed germinates but no plant is born, no flower blooms. For every child that isn't born, for every thought trapped in the moral order nature's thought; the ineffable, the unborn, the unknown, I hope one day you find expression and tell the world what you are and what beauty really is—To eloquence that never speaks, to thought that never thinks, to life that never lives, in my heart you speak, think and live.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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