Quotes about destruct, page 6
And What of Me, If I should Fall.
And What of Me, If I Should Fall
What more can I say to thee, on wounded heart and bended knee,
October winds caress my hall, and what of me, if I should fall.
The yellow photo that cannot talk, the cup of wine now turned to chalk, summers touch the king of Saul, and what of me, if I should fall.
Distant echo from the past, love so true on blood stained glass, that frozen kiss at the midnight ball, and what of me, if I should fall.
House of paper and cotton buds, beating heart and mental thud,
My name on red and cindered walls, and what of me, if I should fall.
The old church on that windswept hill, Heathcliff shivers with frowning chill, swallows song and sky so tall, and what of me, if I should fall.
My blue sea with its whitewash foam, October streets and home alone,
Unto the breach with yelling call, and what of me, if I should fall.
Cloudless forest on barren land, self destruct by noble hand, my sword is sharp and steely raw, and what of me, if I should fall.
poem by Fergus Michael Condron
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Oh! ...Those First Amendment Rights
The advocates of free speech!
And, oh! ...those first amendment rights they seek.
With a doing to smear beliefs of others.
Don't you just love the way they use the media to do this?
To express the freedoms to address their druthers,
And at the expense of ruining lives.
So refreshing isn't it?
To know someone can dispense their wickedness.
And use the 'LAW' to get away with it.
To invite a manifesting of worldwide animosity,
Should be a goal and a priority...
Everyone self-righteous should want to achieve.
Free speech speakers on their soapboxes 'miked'...
Feel an entitlement to do what they please and like,
To destroy and destruct over the airwaves or in movies...
Day and night to incite humanity and collect abundantly,
From unknown donors with an inflicting of this mental disease.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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God Is Not Some Mindless Creation
On these battlefields they leave no triumphs.
They leave no scars or wounds to pride!
Heartaches are collected,
Within memories devastated.
To understate this need to destruct...
Reveals a thirst,
For blood and guts!
By those mentally and morally corrupt!
Those who blindlessly march into war...
Will regret what they've done on innocent shores.
They will regret their ambitions,
To disguise their intentions!
No peace will come to rest on their consciousness.
No forgiveness comes to sit.
For those who willfully inflict this brand of evilness!
No one's way of life is rewarded,
By creating strife for another's life of blight!
It is just not the way,
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Turned Cheeks Still Do Bleed
No evil is equal...
To end a conflict,
With a settlement that is gained.
Turned cheeks still do bleed.
And the pain inflicted...
May swim in a forgiveness.
But emotions are there...
In a memory that feeds.
It's kept inside,
To one day be ignited.
That feeling masquerades and hides...
With silent cries.
Sheltered in denial...
And never subsides.
Pain felt deep...
Seeks the surface to be released.
Like a gas that has to be passed...
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Deceit Can Not Keep Them Hidden
Losing is not born from honesty.
Those who are honest...
Realize they can not always win.
Those who do anything to win,
View themselves as losers.
They blame others for their failures.
Provoked fights are started.
Lies are told.
They ban together...
Sometimes in darkness.
With attacks they wish to feed their greed,
And insecurities.
They have needs to prove their superiority.
They will do anything to be believed!
Deceit can not keep them hidden.
Everything is lost!
Even a pride and dignity once had,
Becomes worthless!
They wish for happiness.
But 'that' within them,
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Devi Mahakaali
Hey Prakriti, Brahmani, Parasakthi
In the depths of the perpetual cosmos
Thou be the conscience and reality-ultimate
Thou be the spirit of creation and cessation
Thou be the genesis of affluence and refulgence
Thou be Durga, Lakshmi, Saraswthi
Yet what Thou be
To the ogrish panic of recurring atavism
What Thou be to the chaotic terrorism
Hey Devi
Invigorate macrocosmic to boom out
Fierce, black, multi-headed, multi-handed
Huge and dark like ageless kala(time)
Attired of demonic arms severed skirted
Ornately garlanded with demon-heads slayed
Edacious, quivering tongues of smoking fire
Terrifying with intensive swift blood-plops
Thine audaciously to destruct satanic devils
Munitioned whole of thine mighty dynamic
A dreadful persona handling a demon-head
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poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Wind is Free
Wake from your nightmare, shut your eye, let life begin
With the cock crow and traffic flow the nightmare begins
The struggle the hustle nothing but pain and strife
What would I do to make it last forever
To spread my wings soar from the worlds dread
For I am soar brake-lights, red-lights the organized restraint
Whatever my threat unchain me before I self destruct
I am The Wind, let me be free
Free be me, the wind I am let me be
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poem by Dave Harry
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Wake Up Call
Wake up call?
What wake up call,
Is going to cause someone to perform...
Premeditated cowardly acts?
What wake up call,
Is going to snap the mind of someone,
Prepared to attack with a striking back!
Derogatory name calling to shame another,
Is kid's play.
A childish display of one's desire to have things,
Done their way...
To produce attention without seeking comprehension.
With an excuse to use...
Is a refusal of common sense.
With a follow through one chooses,
To retaliate like most fools do.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Which Definitions For Them Have Changed
Who knows what's on their minds,
Or which definitions for them have changed...
To fit their disloyal temperaments.
They wish to be so far on the side of right,
It is amazing they still stand tall...
On the edge of a cliff that clearly crumbles.
Too many of them now are showing signs,
They are insane; out of their minds.
With permanent stays.
And finding the act of blaming each day lived,
On decisions they consciously make...
To lay on the back and shoulders of someone else.
You name it.
It is not theirs to claim,
If it reveals irresponsibility or lacking accountability.
Are you kidding?
That would be the mature way to approach life.
Then they wish to seek counseling,
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Can Not Call These Folks Mentally Sick
They can not get enough,
Of being in someone else's business.
And since they evade truth...
They create their own.
With initiated lies they are quick to tell.
Seeped within embellishment,
To entertain anyone listening.
And they wonder why their children...
Occupy jail cells and juvenile detention homes.
These folks are never home,
Building anything on foundations of strength.
They are too busy seeking to destroy and destruct.
And with 'that' they have found success!
Then they campaign to gather loudly...
To strain the ears of anyone,
Who will give them time.
To hear their voices wail and cry!
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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