More Time Given Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Even if the prospect of it was possible,
Very few would choose to re-live a repeating...
Of a yesterday to embellish restaged memories.
With a wish to remember them,
To actually exist.
And a doing of it with more time given,
Wasting it away as many do to procrastinate.
As a process to redo familiar excuses to make.

'...and after school the first thing I use to do,
Was my homework then complete a list of chose.
And return the following day thirstin' fo mo,
Lessons to learn as I sat listenin' at attention.
Starvin' for nowlidge to octane.
I couldn't get enough of being teached by my teachuhs.
Today?
These kids ain't got that kind of morovation.
My only regret,
Is not allowing myself to ax mo questions.'

~Oh, please.
You were always arguing with the teachers.
Cheating on tests and getting 'F's.
And being cantankerous is nothing I would objectify.~

'Sure. Go ahead.
Depict my complishments in anyway you wish.
You don't have to dignify my success.
To re-interpret my prite.'

~Uh...your what?
PRIDE...maybe? ~

'My P...R...I...Y...
No.
P..R...Y...T...E...
Whatever.
I know what I'm saying.
How I reminisces 'my' life lived,
Is not an object to be can't tanker.
And I know for a fact that to be true.'

~And folks wonder why,
The minds of today's youth are so messed up.~

'It's that lack of 'speck' and disimplement.
That's what it is.
And today aint noboby got it.
You feel me? '

~Uh...
Trust me,
I'm doing the best I can.~

'It's the hite of that horse you on.
That's what it is.'