Lawrence S. Pertillar

Gold Star - 48,706 Points (February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

Heating Up To Boil Over - Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Attitudes.
Cemented and fixed in stubbornness.
And displaying a selfishness.
With beliefs amendments document,
Who is more deserving...
To get handed to them entitlements.

Attitudes. Driven with a drive to prove.
To show it shown they can sizzle.
With a heating up to boil over.
And spill upon those innocent too!
Need an immediate turning down of a volume.
To do it as an adjustment to chill,
And listen and not refuse.

Nothing unexpected that has come to appear,
Should surprise those with opened eyes...
To see with a clarity,
Choices they made to make yesterday...
Today they claim has them living in fear.

Only those in denial and self hypnotized,
Find their deluded minds under attack.
With a doing to disbelieve...
A clicking clock that moves forward,
Is not going to stop or for them move back.

And attitudes by a few fools refusing,
To see the light for what it is...
Had always been there to accept without question,
Each step of darkness to ignore the dawn...
They chose to reflect deceptions.
With this now to turn them off but kept to carry on.

Attitudes.
Heating up to boil over.
On streets to prevent their own progress.
Attitudes. Spoiled and cemented in self-centeredness.
And selfishly kept to make less sense.
With a proving disturbances 'organized' and meant,
Are documented entitlements.

Since no one ultimately benefits,
From a disarray of displayed ignorance.
To wish and convince with a thoughtlessly...
That attitudes quick to fuse best represents,
A doing of misdeeds...
To believe them good intentions to leave.

'I want what is mine.'

~That's fine.
But why trash and destroy everything?
To leave NOTHING behind.
I will admit I took liberties from you I didn't need.
But you also have to admit and truthfully...
When I did this you pretended to be blind.
And only occasionally you whined.
To accept what I did to you 'all' this time.~

'But you chose not to hear me,
When I spoke 'peacefully'.
And now this squeaking wheel,
Is in need of much more...
Than a request of just token drops of used oil.'

Topic(s) of this poem: reality


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Poem Submitted: Friday, March 13, 2015



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