Be it exact
Don’t exaggerate a thing.
It will leave an image
Less than its life size,
Defeating your very purpose.
28.06.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Defeating...That Beast
You've begun...to defeat,
That beast that's come to be.
You've become...to defeat it!
You've begun...to defeat it!
You've begun...to defeat,
That beast that's come to be.
You've become...to defeat it!
You've begun...to defeat it!
Think about the distance you've come,
Defeating...the beast.
Think about your decision not to run,
Away...from the beast.
Think about those knees on the ground,
Weeping for the beast.
Think about the dirt you ate,
Fed...by the beast.
Think about celebrating...
Those days ahead awaiting!
You've begun...to defeat,
That beast that's come to be.
You've become...to defeat it!
You've begun...to defeat it!
You've begun...to defeat,
That beast that's come to be.
You've become...to defeat it!
You've begun...to defeat it!
No longer the martyr,
Defeating...that beast.
Get up...and strut about.
You've defeated...that beast.
Let those words come out of your mouth,
'I've defeated...that beast! '
Let the people see and believe it,
You've defeated...that beast.
Whoop...and hollar about,
'I've defeated...and done feeding it!
That beast is outta my house.'
You've begun...to defeat,
That beast that's come to be.
You've become...to defeat it!
You've begun...to defeat it!
You've begun...to defeat,
That beast that's come to be.
You've become...to defeat it!
You've begun...to defeat it!
More than a piece of cake!
Defeating...that beast.
Gone and eliminated.
Defeating...that beast.
Much more than a piece of cake.
Defeating...that beast.
But gone and eliminated.
Defeating...that beast.
More than a piece of cake.
Defeating...that beast.
Gone and eliminated.
Defeating...that beast.
Much more than a piece of cake.
Defeating...that beast.
But gone and eliminated.
That beatened up beast to beat!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Purpose of Living
The master of purpose does not
respect certificate or degree;
He only respect people
with purpose in life.
Purpose is the gate fee
to success land.
Purpose is your direction.
Purpose is an objective in life,
dream, and what you are here for.
You cannot move on in life
until you have discovered
your objectives in life,
which is your purpose of living.
poem by Franca Kenneth
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When and Where Did They Leave Behind Their Minds
I have been blessed to be in the presence...
Of those obsessed with the purchasing of things.
Themselves and what they possess.
And have them profess to me,
What 'I' could be and 'things' I could have...
IF I just put my mind to it!
So glad I endured such ignorance.
Little did they know,
I thought people like that were ridiculous.
And in time they would come to think of themselves,
That very same way.
It happens.
It pays to be observant.
What I have today and have had most of my life,
Is a sense of my own self worth.
What I have today and have had most of my life,
Is identity and self respect.
What I have today and have had most of my life,
Is my faith and gratefulness...
To know from where my blessings flow!
And the source of my insight.
And those folks...
Wouldn't leave from their doorsteps,
Without making sure their pretensions were intact.
But then again...
Times have changed!
And maybe some of them are scurrying around,
Trying to discover...
When and where did they leave behind their minds.
And what had been their purpose?
What purpose do they serve?
And how is that purpose felt?
Where is that purpose at?
Especially those clinging onto materialistic notions!
Believing themselves to be...
'Blessed and highly favored',
To have acquired positions of status.
With bling and other things to flaunt,
An eroding way of life that has them entrapped.
And I wonder...
Is 'this' a purpose?
Or is this,
A sad act!
God...
I thank You,
For showing me how to lead.
And not follow.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Their Main Focus And Purpose
Their main focus and purpose in life,
Is what's between somebody's legs.
Up their rear ends, in their mouths...
Size of chest, arms, thighs,
And caring less what is in their heads.
The outsourcing and downsizing done,
Effectively started with a dumbdowning first.
And for some reason,
The dysfunctions of the people have become prioritized...
As a way of perceiving themselves as normal 'creatures'.
With concerns as to who is straight giving that image,
And not one of them capable of providing proof...
A thought they have in their heads,
Originated as a result of their own initiative.
But quick they are to accept anything heard,
Or thrown in their faces as evidence that qualifies them...
As being no lost relative of Einstein.
Their noses are too smashed in the cracks,
Of other people's business.
So much so that trash has collected in stacks,
In their own homes.
With a cleaning of a stench that reeks as if,
Someone inside of it doesn't know a thing about hygiene.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One is valued for its future
Upcoming train is growing in size;
Down going train dwindle in size.
Incoming things look more than life size.
Outgoing things fade less than life size.
23.11.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Don't Act Like That
Don't act like that,
Don't!
Don't treat me like
You think I need defeating
'Cause you're the one who's getting it.
Inflicting it with wickedness.
Don't act like that,
Don't!
Don't do it.
Don't do it!
Don't act like that,
Don't.
Don't criticize,
To hide your pack of lies.
Don't act like that,
Don't!
Don't do it.
Don't do it!
Don't act like that,
Don't.
Don't come to me
Like a game to beat.
Don't act like that,
Don't!
Don't do it.
Don't do it!
Give me something I can believe.
Like more love.
Like with you...
In it!
Give me something you want to leave.
Like a kiss to show
That when you go
You might miss me.
Don't act like that,
Don't!
Don't treat me like
You think I need defeating
'Cause you're the one who's getting it.
Inflicting it with wickedness.
Give me something I can believe.
Like more love.
Like with you...
In it!
Give me something you want to leave.
Like a kiss to show
That when you go
You might miss me.
Don't act like that,
Don't!
Don't do it.
Don't do it!
Don't act like that,
Don't!
Don't do it.
Don't do it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Keep The Intent Of Your Purpose
Although there seems to be,
A slowing done of your focused flow...
Keep the intent of your purpose.
Don't let that motivation go.
Stay true to yourself,
Knowing your beliefs do not deceive.
Keep the intent of your purpose.
Do not let that purpose leave.
It is difficult enough,
To constantly be bombarded...
From those events,
That fuss things up.
It's enough to want to cuss,
Everything believed to be corrupt.
But that 'outside' stuff that is happening...
Has a meaning that should awaken all of us.
Although there seems to be,
A slowing done of your focused flow...
Keep the intent of your purpose.
Don't let that motivation go.
Stay true to yourself,
Knowing your beliefs do not deceive.
Keep the intent of your purpose.
Do not let that purpose leave.
Each day collect pieces,
Of your sanity.
Keep the intent of your purpose.
Be gentle and easily allow yourself to breathe.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Party leads to vicious, corrupt and unprofitable legislation, for the sole purpose of defeating party.
quote by James F. Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Remaining Happy
No stories left,
Do I have an urgency...
To compare in the telling told.
About confronting and defeating,
Those impossible obstacles.
No stories left,
Do I have a need or wish to recall.
To relive to captivate,
With a leaving of others enthralled.
Or with shivers to deliver.
Whether or not others make claims I exaggerate.
I am more experienced today with a faith I did not fake.
And a taking for granted each step I make.
Is not a welcoming activity,
I greet with an anticipating to partake.
I felt a cold brick wall up against my back.
Frightening enough,
I could no longer fantasize a trapping done like that.
Especially with exits closed.
To rely only on my faith to provide an escape.
Now with remaining happy and sustaining that on my mind,
No stories left...
Do I have an urgency to compare in the telling told.
About confronting and defeating those impossible obstacles.
Nor do I have a need to be teased to emotionally relive them.
I've unloaded and left behind,
Those winding roads I never chose to twist my mind.
Remaining happy and sustaining that,
Has come to please my every need.
No matter if that's judge as a selfish act...so be it judged!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Villanelle
A dainty thing's the Villanelle.
Sly, musical, a jewel in rhyme,
It serves its purpose passing well.
A doublc-clappered silver bell
That must be made to clink in chime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And if you wish to flute a spell,
Or ask a meeting 'neath the lime,
It serves its purpose passing well.
You must not ask of it the swell
Of organs grandiose and sublime-
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And, filled with sweetness, as a shell
Is filled with sound, and launched in time,
It serves its purpose passing well.
Still fair to see and good to smell
As in the quaintness of its prime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle,
It serves its purpose passing well.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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A Dainty Thing's The Villanelle
A DAINTY thing's the Villanelle,
Sly, musical, a jewel in rhyme,
It serves its purpose passing well.
A double-clappered silver bell
That must be made to clink in chime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And if you wish to flute a spell,
Or ask a meeting 'neath the lime,
It serves its purpose passing well.
You must not ask of it the swell
Of organs grandiose and sublime--
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And, filled with sweetness, as a shell
Is filled with sound, and launched in time,
It serves its purpose passing well.
Still fair to see and good to smell
As in the quaintness of its prime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle,
It serves its purpose passing well.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Youth And Age
Verse, a Breeze 'mid blossoms straying,
Where HOPE clung feeding, like a bee--
Both were mine ! Life went a-maying
With NATURE, HOPE, and POESY,
[Image][Image]When I was young !
When I was young ?--Ah, woful WHEN !
Ah ! for the Change 'twixt Now and Then !
This breathing House not built with hands,
This body that does me grievous wrong,
O'er æry Cliffs and glittering Sands,
How lightly then it flashed along :--
Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore,
On winding lakes and rivers wide,
That ask no aid of Sail or Oar,
That fear no spite of Wind or Tide !
Nought cared this Body for wind or weather
When YOUTH and I lived in't together.
FLOWERS are lovely ; LOVE is flower-like ;
FRIENDSHIP is a sheltering tree ;
O ! the Joys, that came down shower-like,
Of FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, and LIBERTY,
[Image] [Image] [Image] [Image] Ere I was old !
Ere I was old ? Ah woful ERE,
Which tells me, YOUTH'S no longer here !
O YOUTH ! for years so many and sweet,
'Tis known, that Thou and I were one,
I'll think it but a fond conceit--
It cannot be that Thou art gone !
Thy Vesper-bell hath not yet toll'd :--
And thou wert aye a Masker bold !
What strange Disguise hast now put on,
To make believe, that thou art gone ?
I see these Locks in silvery slips,
This drooping Gait, this altered Size :
But SPRINGTIDE blossoms on thy Lips,
And Tears take sunshine from thine eyes !
Life is but Thought : so think I will
That YOUTH and I are House-mates still.
Dew-drops are the gems of morning,
But the tears of mournful eve !
Where no hope is, life's a warning
That only serves to make us grieve,
[Image][Image]When we are old :
That only serves to make us grieve
With oft and tedious taking-leave,
Like some poor nigh-related guest,
That may not rudely be dismist ;
Yet hath outstay'd his welcome while,
And tells the jest without the smile.
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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You can tell the size of a man by the size of the thing that makes him mad.
quote by Adlai E. Stevenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The size of a man is measured by the size of the thing that makes him angry.
Unless you're involved with thinking about what you're doing, you end up doing the same thing over and over, and that becomes tedious and, in the end, defeating.
quote by Sol LeWitt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Infestation
From birth to achieve one's purpose,
Is that what it is one's life should be?
Or are we given this experience...
To exist to witness others succeed?
Are we to take life as an expected gift?
To sit in anticipation...
As life should come to us,
To breeze through easily.
From birth to achieve one's purpose,
Like steps come in increments.
First there is a crawling done.
To stand up tall to fall.
Ignoring to stall these as minor incidents.
Is not this life to live with such a preference?
No flying from a leap...
Some believe taken in clean sweeps,
To not repeat...
Incompleted lessons.
From birth to achieve one's purpose,
In sessions God dictates.
Although some prefer to stay whining like babies.
Hoping an empathy negates their impatient wait.
And some are often praised,
When they leave implusive scars...
To leave marks condone!
By others shown...
They too were raised to be just as crazed!
With the effects of this to go unquestioned.
Since their beliefs are released...
For a complete infestation for others to reap.
As reality takes a backseat...
While continuing to be depleted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dreaming is one thing, and working towards the dream is one thing, but working with expectations in mind is very self-defeating.
quote by Michael Landon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All passions exaggerate; and they are passions only because they do exaggerate.
quote by Nicolas de Chamfort
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That' Once Found
After many years of declaring my identity.
With an opposition to be 'me' on occasion.
I set out on the pursuit of one thing.
And one thing only!
That...
'Was' my purpose.
That...
'Is' my purpose.
And 'that'...
Once found,
Can not be reversed.
I have never had the option,
Of a practiced rehearsal.
Or a flaw I had to welcome,
To live with and overcome.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To A Teacher
Hurt once and for all into silence.
A long pain ending without a song to prove it.
Who could stand beside you so close to Eden,
when you glinted in every eye the held-high razor,
shivering every ram and son?
And now the silent looney-bin,
where the shadows live in the rafters
like day-weary bats,
until the turning mind, a radar signal,
lures them to exaggerate mountain-size
on the white stone wall
your tiny limp.
How can I leave you in such a house?
Are there no more saints and wizards
to praise their ways with pupils,
no more evil to stun with the slap
of a wet red tongue?
Did you confuse the Messiah in a mirror
and rest because he had finally come?
Let me cry Help beside you, Teacher.
I have entered under this dark roof
as fearlessly as an honoured son
enters his fathers house.
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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