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Poems
Piddled In Pits
(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

Piddled In Pits

Poem By Lawrence S. Pertillar

Your reality,
And myths kept to believe...
Are undergoing a quickened paced,
To renovate them to replace immediately.
There is nothing like closed eyes,
That leaves the truth...
Left to go unrecognized.

Warning signs and messages to you sent,
Were meant for you to pay undivided attention.
But you didn't.
You became offended when they were mentioned.
And now you 'perceive',
You have entitlements and rights to make demands.
With a snapping of fingers.
Or arms folded across chests,
To express an indignation...
That leaves decision makers impressed!
Well...
Good luck with those delusions.
With them kept to think,
Your assumptions have a chance.
As you fall to your knees,
Praying for quick relief.

Your reality,
And myths kept to believe...
Are undergoing a quickened paced,
To renovate them to replace.
Screaming to have your memories,
Left as they are not to erase...
Deserves applause for the performance.
However...
There are only two choices left,
From which to choose you can make.
Either heavily sedate yourself to medicate!
Or choose to accept,
A complete overhaul of kept beliefs you keep,
To defend.
That's it!
OR you can choose to sit, knit and reminisce.
With expectations to be taxed to hear,
Reasons for that to make them known.
But never shown to make those reasons clear.

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