Lawrence S. Pertillar Poems

The oldest game to play,
Is to have it believed...
Someone else creates a problem.
Only the doer of it,
...

Few would have the sense to know,
Their acts to pick upon others...
They believe can be easily manipulated.
Set up their own traps.
...

There are...
White lies. Black lies.
And Brown lies told.
But...
...

Such passion to have it.
Can be a hazard of a habit.
To become a need to feed an addiction.
Smothered to leave smoldering,
...

I just want to thank You.
For lettin' me,
Be who it is...
I am.
...

Who is it left,
That suffers better more.
In these times lived to lose,
False impressions to make.
...

Flawed.
Lawless and a fraud.
Yet...
These 'attributes' are applauded.
...

Greater than what to make better.

"Would that be up or down? "
...

I have often HEARD,
From others between them said...
Who had did what for 'who'.
Not to witness at all.
...

Welcome to the lockdown.
With steps to eliminate truth.
It's a political lockdown.
Anywhere the truth is produced.
...