Drifting Away From Under Where They Sit Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Plummeting from careers of positions,
Are those who jumped hastily.
On the backs of high horses.
So attached to the climbing,
There they were.
Focused and attracted to silver linings.
Blinding many by the bling.

And leaving behind as fast as they could,
Established relationships with friends.
And memories of those old neighborhoods.
The climbing for the bling,
And taste for expensive things.
For them that did this,
Felt so good.
And.
Liberating.

Moments of desperation suddenly came overnight.
A changing of insights began to weaken feelings of 'might'.
It was back then.
In the golden era of two thousand and ten,
A blazing Sunshine upon them began to dim.
As if someone had greased the backs,
Of those high horses drifting away from under where they sit.
How dare those visions split from them like this.

Many could not hold on.
Good times from dusk until dawn,
For many.
Were going to go to be forever gone.
With an unpaying of pretentions due.
And a pride of high credit scores.
Falling too?

And it seemed as if a quick grip on yesterday,
With a feeding of those dreams with wishes they would stay.
Upon demand.
Were slipping from grips to slide away,
From those clutches of now trembling.
Wet with sweat,
Manicured and shaking hands of those in deep regret.

And the cries of those trying to keep their hopes alive,
Are heard.
To reach the ears of those strolling upon the streets,
From the most extravagant of places.