Lame Is The Game Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Lame is the game of image.
Imitated these days,
To fade away impressions made.
Done to fraud a faking.
Awakening the many beginning to see,
No relief to them comes to remain...
Maintaining to keep,
False presentations.
Eventually revealed to observe,
A restricting to limits.
Without delay to further display.

"Look! "

-Look?
Look where? -

"Up.
Up in the sky.
The truth appears,
To clear our eyes from all the lies! "

The doers begin to slide,
From atop mountains of told lies.
With followers to drag,
Down to Earth...
With their protected pretensions had.
And remarkably left without allies,
Or excuses to make.
Done to do to escape their fates.

Oh...
The sighs and woes to hear them.
Hoping their charaded climb to the top,
Stops.
And...
Will be forgiven by the ones,
Backstabbed and left dropped.
Into darkened valleys where the Sun,
Has begun to shine...
On their efforts to endeavor.
With integrity to keep.
Miraculously without deception!

-I can not believe my lieing eyes! -

"Believe them.
They had been betrayed.
But today?
Truth has found a way,
To make the appearance of it...
Much too clear to deny with lies."

-But...
My eyes?
What should I do with them? -

"Dear God.
Creator of reality and truth.
Is this yet,
Another one of Your tests? "

-There you go again.
Trying to get God involved.-