Lawrence S. Pertillar Poems

It is difficult to awaken to find one's mind,
Clear and defined amongst those still in a deep sleep.
It is difficult to address a consciousness that has leapt,
Over leaps and bounds to experience and connect...
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I do not worship crucifixions!
Or become irate to berate others,
When I am confronted with the truth.
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Attention!
Sinners, saints and pretenders acquainted.
This is your final warning.
The rumored Storm of Truth,
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The only dirt on me you claim to have discovered,
Is the dirt I left behind easily to find.
Trust me...
There is nothing you have found,
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Seduced by a replaying of an innocence that isn't,
Gets as old as the doer who refuses to see...
Tired are the ones who have become,
Taken for granted.
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The only freedom one has,
That brings to them true happiness...
Once admitted after spending time committed,
To acquiring possessions left to dust or rust...
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People seeking to duplicate or plagiarize,
A pattern to follow they perceive is set...
Left for anyone to copy and get.
Will never be able to do it.
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Everyday I pray,
With a thankfulness I have been blessed...
To observe and without a judgement to profess.
And have kept an ability to listen and grasp,
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Malicious rumors to spread,
And intended to solicit whispered gossip...
On greedy ears wishing to hear it,
To add their own interpretations!
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Why do those accustomed,
To looking down from upturned noses at others...
'Assume' they are beyond living near the gutters,
To believe the ones they uttered...
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