Blown Is The Fuse Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Disconnected.
All lights burned out.
Blown is the fuse.
And not a step has anyone taken,
To replace a darkness.
Or at least ask for a match.
That shows an attempt,
Shadows are missing to remember...
Having them to notice.
On objects to cast.

Racists.
Bigots.
And others defiantly defending,
Their limited experiences with truth.
Can not be convinced,
That a having too much reliable comfort...
Worshipping ignorance.
In the midst of reality.
Available and readily produced.
Is not a healthy position to take.

Yet...
Rely on lies many do to justify,
A delusional existence...
To qualify,
What they do to others to endure.
Even in the midst of truth,
People like this continue to inflict...
Agony and suffering.
In the hope without enlightened minds,
Their mental instabilities...
Will go unnoticed,
Long gone and blown is the fuse.
To use and at least pretend,
The having at one time common sense.
But this to prove they can not do.
Without a sign of light.
Or have believed came close to dawn,
In heads so dim and thickened in darkness.