Poem By Lawrence S. Pertillar
Long gone to romance...
Are difficult to enhance them,
Through embellish tales to tell...
To insist in these times a need,
For more to adopt...
Values discarded to now,
Have them regarded...
As a quality of life few today miss.
Or can remember those times,
Before waste and the taste of it...
Became sold to addict,
With it to prioritize and market.
For business only and one purpose kept,
To circulate and pocket the almighty dollar.
Those pretentious are not so easily convinced,
Their lives to live to feed on deceptions...
And the dwindling of a diminished hollow praise,
Can be fixed without having to pay for it.
'I know you are rushing to buy weapons,
To protect what you perceive is yours.
But...uh...with a smidgen of 'however'...
Those people standing over there,
With their hands on their hips.
And arms folded patting their feet.
We sold to them what you thought was yours.
And actually borrow more funding from them,
To keep you fantasized.
A little delusion here. A little delusion there.
They are waiting for us to tell you that.
You know how we love that money?
No matter who loans it or where it comes from.'