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Baited By Ratings (The Defamation Game)

Baited by ratings,
And driven to satiate...
The entertainment of news.
And what and who produces the best,
Net worth.
At the sacrifice of substance.
Feeding those obstinate.
With desires that are decadent.

Baited by ratings,
And driven to satiate...
Public revelations,
Of those raise to heights.
Those selected to be judged and smeared.
By those electing to delight from the blight.

Baited by ratings,
And driven to satiate...
On gossip that's dropped.
With nonstop dollars...

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Entertaining the Absence of Logic

There are still those who are amply baited,
Who remain over medicated...
With hallucinations they satiate.
And prescribed just the right mix,
Of delusions to keep them fixed.
With a bombardment of mental distractions...
To ensure denial and truth is resisted.

There are still those who are amply baited,
Who remain over medicated...
With hallucinations they satiate.
The time to awaken their minds has passed.
Addicted to fantasize and this will last.
As they have been treated to dismiss,
All elements of reality in their consciousness.

Confirming with validation the admittance of conflict.
Entertaining the absence of logic and common sense.
Numbed and insisting this existence persists.
Entertaining the absence of logic and common sense.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Stuff Is Blatant

My observations aren't created.
Rarely embellished are they envisioned.

I see what I see.
And hear what I hear.
Ignoring what is there,
I do not make that decision.

I am one of those probing nosey people.
Wanting to comprehend with a reason,
To question 'why'?
I can be analytical if I wish.
But what I observe...
There is little need for it.

This stuff is blatant!
For open eyes to satiate.
Blatant with a rawness,
Hard for some to digest.
I guess that is why so many folks,

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Leaving A Lofty Place

No pedestal should be loved so great,
To satiate a promising of a permanence determined.

Appreciating an arrivial done,
To acknowledge one day an end will come...
With a feeling of an accomplishment,
That came to one as a surprise.
Although leaving a lofty place to be replaced,
Can bring tears to eyes...
To those who try to fly even higher.

No pedestal should be loved so great,
To satiate a promising of a permanence determined.
Although leaving a lofty place to be replaced,
Can bring tears to eyes...
To those who try to fly even higher.

'Who do we have here? '

~We had to put a strait jacket on this one.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pandemonium

Who but he,
Could create such pandemonium.
A flickering light that had burned out of sight.
And yet so beloved and giving.

Who but he,
Can stir unbelievable fantasies.
To secure and keep you interested,
For almost a half of a century.

Pushed into the limelight.
And made to thrill.
Made to keep producing...
To fulfill someone else's will.

Who but he,
Could create such pandemoneum?
And if looks could kill,
Each one initiated satiated...
Monstrous appetites for his love.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Crafted By The Feeding

It would be nice to know,
The sharing of 'true' love.
You know,
The goosebump giving kind?
With a value placed on its emphasis.
With a value traced,
To the root of it.

So nice it would be to observe,
A decreasing of opposition.
With an erasing of that element done...
To having everyone come together,
And end conflict.
As a mission that benefits.

~What exists after the 'experiment' of humanity?
Should we continue to explore the premise of this? ~

Where is the justice received within restricted limits?
When did one's right to breathe become a matter for debate?

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pre-Medicated

Looking around and observing those once inflated,
By temptations that elated.
And draped some with sugarplumes on their plate!
And couldn't wait to prance around...
With easily obtained 'things' either given or found,
To satiate a frosting licked...
Off an everlasting cake!
Almost!
They received a 'breezy' coasting to boast!
And they did...
Until their glides hit thorns with splinters on skids.
Turning a boasted lust into toast!

Pre-medicated.
From a charaded fate.
It seems today heartbreak is the maker.
It has taken too long,
For my peace of mind to come.
And I am surprised I have not run...
From all the moaning around me,

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Channel Crossing

Forth from Calais, at dawn of night, when sunset summer on autumn shone,
Fared the steamer alert and loud through seas whence only the sun was gone:
Soft and sweet as the sky they smiled, and bade man welcome: a dim sweet hour
Gleamed and whispered in wind and sea, and heaven was fair as a field in flower,
Stars fulfilled the desire of the darkling world as with music: the star-bright air
Made the face of the sea, if aught may make the face of the sea, more fair.
Whence came change? Was the sweet night weary of rest? What anguish awoke in the dark?
Sudden, sublime, the strong storm spake: we heard the thunders as hounds that bark.
Lovelier if aught may be lovelier than stars, we saw the lightnings exalt the sky,
Living and lustrous and rapturous as love that is born but to quicken and lighten and die.
Heaven's own heart at its highest of delight found utterance in music and semblance in fire:
Thunder on thunder exulted, rejoicing to live and to satiate the night's desire.
And the night was alive and an-hungered of life as a tiger from toils cast free:
And a rapture of rage made joyous the spirit and strength of the soul of the sea.
All the weight of the wind bore down on it, freighted with death for fraught:
And the keen waves kindled and quickened as things transfigured or things distraught.
And madness fell on them laughing and leaping; and madness came on the wind:
And the might and the light and the darkness of storm were as storm in the heart of Ind.
Such glory, such terror, such passion, as lighten and harrow the far fierce East,
Rang, shone, spake, shuddered around us: the night was an altar with death for priest.

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poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Anactoria

MY LIFE is bitter with thy love; thine eyes
Blind me, thy tresses burn me, thy sharp sighs
Divide my flesh and spirit with soft sound,
And my blood strengthens, and my veins abound.
I pray thee sigh not, speak not, draw not breath;
Let life burn down, and dream it is not death.
I would the sea had hidden us, the fire
(Wilt thou fear that, and fear not my desire?)
Severed the bones that bleach, the flesh that cleaves,
And let our sifted ashes drop like leaves.
I feel thy blood against my blood: my pain
Pains thee, and lips bruise lips, and vein stings vein.
Let fruit be crushed on fruit, let flower on flower,
Breast kindle breast, and either burn one hour.
Why wilt thou follow lesser loves? are thine
Too weak to bear these hands and lips of mine?
I charge thee for my life’s sake, O too sweet
To crush love with thy cruel faultless feet,
I charge thee keep thy lips from hers or his,
Sweetest, till theirs be sweeter than my kiss:

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poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Orlando Furioso Canto 8

ARGUMENT
Rogero flies; Astolpho with the rest,
To their true shape Melissa does restore;
Rinaldo levies knights and squadrons, pressed
In aid of Charles assaulted by the Moor:
Angelica, by ruffians found at rest,
Is offered to a monster on the shore.
Orlando, warned in visions of his ill,
Departs from Paris sore against his will.

I
How many enchantresses among us! oh,
How many enchanters are there, though unknown!
Who for their love make man or woman glow,
Changing them into figures not their own.
Nor this by help of spirits from below,
Nor observation of the stars is done:
But these on hearts with fraud and falsehood plot,
Binding them with indissoluble knot.

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poem by Ludovico Ariosto
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