The Eleventh Hour Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

The eleventh hour,
Loudly...
Begins to tick.
Yet...
Many who ignore it,
Insist to permit...
Ongoing conflicts.

The eleventh hour,
Promises an increase of madness.
While those believing,
Themselves left unaffected,
Still unconsciously protest...
A selfishness of their entitlements,
To get.

Leaving the mindless,
Who live behind closed and perfumed doors...
Locked to romance kept delusions.
Hoping heard disturbances,
Are not near their steps but on foreign shores.

Leaving the mindless,
Detached and surrounded by false tales told.
Preparing to attend invitations accepted,
To social events they intend with others convinced...
The eleventh hour ticking for all,
Is for some and not meant for them.

The eleventh hour,
Loudly...
Begins to tick.
Yet...
Many who ignore it,
Insist to permit...
Ongoing conflicts.

And leaving the mindless...
Unconvinced.