Lawrence S. Pertillar Poems

The business of the poet is done to live,
On the edge of idealistic impressions...
To express.
Mixed with a twisting hint of realism.
...

Crazed mentalities,
Given entitled rights to believe...
They can continue to display,
Appetites of hatred and division...
...

Respect?
You mean the r-e-s-p-e-c-t?
With a wanting to know,
If it's spelled correctly...
...

Should I be held responsible,
For advice someone has asked of me...
They did not take.
Or stop to think about it to consider?
...

Many refuse to believe,
Someone else has taken the time...
To deceive them thoroughly.
And people like this will keep,
...

I may have once lived,
With a kept self-deception.
Just to prove I could undo,
The impossible others knew.
...

As I stop to review,
My life in retrospect.
I have come to realize,
God has bestowed upon me...
...

The heart is a lonely hunter.
With a hoping its search for love,
Satisfies every emotion...
That captures another,
...

Never tell those discovered,
They are fools and idiots.
Eventually they will come to know this.
And on their own time to find,
...