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Every Illusion Is Catered
(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

Every Illusion Is Catered

Poem By Lawrence S. Pertillar

Trapped and confined.
With unbalanced queasy feelings...
Felt in these times out of alignment.
And trying too hard to fit in we do!
Is this the fate one chooses to keep?
Are people too amazed,
By the speed of it increased?
As many pursue youth...
With a refusal of aging to beat!

Every illusion is catered,
But peace.
Every illusion is rated,
But peace.

On knees or on one's feet,
No peace is peeled then eaten.
It's fed and felt from the heart,
And then released.

Like a soothing breeze of air to breathe.

Every illusion is catered,
But peace.
Every illusion is rated,
But peace.

On knees or on one's feet,
No peace is peeled then eaten.
It's fed and felt from the heart,
And then released.

Like a soothing breeze of air to breathe.

Trapped and confined.
With unbalanced queasy feelings...
Felt in these times out of alignment.
And trying too hard to fit in we do!
Is this the fate one chooses to keep?
Are people too amazed,
By the speed of it increased?
As many pursue youth...
With a refusal of aging to beat!

Every illusion is catered,
But peace.
Every illusion is rated,
But peace.

On knees or on one's feet,
No peace is peeled then eaten.
It's fed and felt from the heart,
And then released.

Like a soothing breeze of air to breathe.

Every illusion is catered,
But peace.
Every illusion is rated,
But peace.

On knees or on one's feet,
No peace is peeled then eaten.
It's fed and felt from the heart,
And then released.

Like a soothing breeze of air to breathe.

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Comments (1)

you deserve to be in the top 500 poets!


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