Poem Hunter
Oz? Is It Me?
( / Connecticut)

Oz? Is It Me?

Poem By Lawrence S. Pertillar

My dear brother Oz.
Is it me?
I can not be the only one around here,
To understand how delusion works.
It's impossible.
I can not be the only one who knows,
When a lie to tell told...
Does not make what is fantasized true.
Now people are upset and protesting,
For more medical treatment.
Crack addicts, weed smokers and pill poppers,
Have sat and nodded out.
All over Yellow Brick Road.
Affecting the economy.
This does not leave a good impression.
We can not afford to lose another visitor.
My dear brother Oz.
I think you waited too late,
To tell the people...
This experiment you put together,
Was not for them to take seriously.
You should have told them many years ago,
Playing God does not make the playing to be HIM.
The reality.
And you ain't paying me enough,
To wake each one of them up...
Explaining what truth and reality is.
Oh no.
Being accused to be a snitch,
Is nowhere on my job description.
I suggest you fix this mess yourself.
I'm outta here!

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