Yours Truly, occupant Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

I had heard about,
Having a peace of mind.
From the ones,
Who had acquired this.
As if for them...
It was Nirvana.
Without drugs,
To realize such a 'high'.
I laughed.
When I first heard that.

With age and time,
As I grew older.
Worried about this and that.
Creditors and bills to pay.
Praying for the day to come.
I could escape from it all.
But not a doctor I found,
Could prescribe a medication.
That would numb my mind,
To stay that way.

And...
Then it happened.
Laid up in a hospital.
Worried.
Not about my health.
Or death I could,
Possibly face.
But...
Unpaid bills.
And what to my creditors,
I could say!
And then with aches.
Sustained to maintain pains.
I said to myself,
'You have got to be nuts?
If your bills are not paid.
Who would give,
A Turkey's butt.
If your own butt...
Rusted away to dust.
After you kicked that bucket! '

Time has passed.
And my weakened butt,
With peace of mind...
Healed.
Selfishly protective,
Of that peace of mind.
To find the earning of it,
Deserved.
As if my obsession,
To protect it possessed.
Has more value to me,
Than anything else.

With it done to seriously,
Consider...
Placing outside,
Of my front door...
A sign.
Yes. A sign.
In bold print that reads:

'Be You Aware Who Dares,
To Knock On This Door...
You Do So At Your Own Risk.
Think About It!

However...
If You Are Fortunate,
To Survive...
After Stepping Inside.
You Are...
One Lucky S.O.B.
Yours Truly,
Occupant! '