Lawrence S. Pertillar Poems

Better is the luck that comes,
If one thinks of it as fortune.
Deserving to get,
Given not by chance.
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What is said to perceive,
A joke.
In jest to mock.
Nonstop.
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The best of evidence,
To produce and see clearly.
Is the kind to uncover,
Even those who lie can not deny.
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Uninformed and easy to manipulate,
Are the many who chase rainbows...
If told the doing,
Will eliminate their aches and pains.
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Aging does not stop.
Or prevent one who does this,
From learning to continue to grow.
Although,
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No one these perplexing days,
Should have the time to find to whine.
Or undermine to demean.
With a passing of judgement on others.
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Finding further evidence of those,
Capable to stoop to newer lows.
Have had trained skunks claiming,
Not a wish or want to be involved...
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It takes self made fools,
Who believe they can destroy...
Those they do not know,
Yet assume they do.
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Nervous grins.
And trembling knees.
Seem to have those,
Who once barked arrogantly...
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The battle against the proof of truth,
Has begun to prove...
A useless expense,
For the ones addicted to pretensions kept.
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