Lawrence S. Pertillar Poems

Priests and monks fighting amongst themselves,
In a sacred place...
To determine which ones are deserving of more space,
With a worshipping done to do of a savior?
...

Here it comes, again.
That same denial I make attempts to forget.
The same one about my missing someone loved.
Someone I am trying my best not to admit.
...

And with a faith felt deeply,
Within me like nothing else...
I pray.
Everyday.
...

If I had one eye.
One ear.
One hand attached to an arm.
With a foot to hop on a protruding leg.
...

Walking across blazing hot coals,
Has to be easier to do...
Than to tell a mob of people the truth,
About anything.
...

I don't allow myself or my time to be played with.
What would be the point to lay back and waste it?
Or complain about others,
Taking their lives too seriously?
...

Has it been that long,
Since I shared that space.
That place I kept sacred,
After gluing back the pieces...
...

I get a feeling when I close my eyes,
I can climb to heights.
And nothing then envisioned,
Has a border to minimize.
...

You've got to fight,
For that right to live the life you like.
Since nothing is a given.
Or proven to be owed.
...

As a new year approaches,
With a leaving of the old.
There is a hope for fresh adventures,
To captivate and behold...
...