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Poems By Poet Lawrence S. Pertillar  5/24/2013 5:49:47 PM
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  Best Poems From
  LAWRENCE S. PERTILLAR (February/'47)
 
 
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  11997.     

Sweep Away Your Own Debris

So clear you were not here,
When the trenches were dug.
And when the heat appeared,
Not a dropp of sweat...
Came from your brow.
And you expect my attention,
To listen to your delayed intentions!
And you expect my time to mention this...
Now?

Too much of what you have,
And take for granted...
Has been made easy for you to judge.
Including my activities.
But in my life,
What you say and offer...
Has not been made my priority.
Not to influence me to budge!

Your seriousness is elementary to me.
And there is something to be said,
About those who toiled from the old school!
Who learned to use their minds...
And not toys to use as tools to advance fools.

My path has never been paved,
With options.
Nor was it ever paved before time to it I gave.
And any options appearing,
Are those I made!

You show up to discuss,
How I should approach 'my' adventure.
When you display no ambition...
To pick up a broom,
And sweep away your own debris!
That's why I prefer you not to be around me.
To distract with aspects of your own insecurities.

Don't attempt to use my energy.
Sweep away your own debris!
Sweep away your own debris!
Or go elsewhere to play.
Just get away from around me.
 
Lawrence S. Pertillar
   
 

   
   
 

  11998.     

Sweeping Under The Rug

Molestations have become the new rage,
To openly admit being committed...
In locker rooms, showers and on fields,
Of play.
Men with boys used as sexual toys,
Abused in the most perverted ways.

Lesbians and gays,
Have even become appalled.
Since their preferences,
Are not hidden behind pretentions.
With a doing as they please...
And admitting to sexual needs.
While those conducting themselves obscenely,
Secretly attempt to hide and deny...
Their own closeted homosexuality.

And those who seem surprised and disgusted,
By the revelation of these activities...
Are the ones who have had their heads buried in sand,
Doing their best to deny,
This existence they attempt to label as sick...
Is more commonly accepted as historic.

Although...
A sweeping under the rug,
Is still a preference for those who enjoy their dirt...
Covered up to maintain 'appropriate' disguises.

'Your comments are utterly disgusting.'

I know.
I do the best I can,
To avoid embellishing my exaggerations!
And by the way...
There is a spot you missed over there!
 
Lawrence S. Pertillar
   
 

   
   
 

  11999.     

Sweet and Oozing With Charm

Others may determine,
You are fantastic.
With a defending of your claims,
They have seen you actually do a tap dance...
On thin air.

But it has been only directed towards me,
Your defamation and atrocities.
And these acts they have not witnessed,
To declare and believe my public treatment of you,
And in their view is unnecessary and too offensive.

'How can you be so cruel to someone undeserving?
Someone so sweet and oozing with charm.'

Gee, I have no idea.
Perhaps it is from leftover wounds...
No one witnessed when they were inflicted.
And a forgetting to forgive...
Has not yet arrived to sustain me with entertainment.
 
Lawrence S. Pertillar
   
 

   
   
 

  12000.     

Sweet and Soft Whispers

I may not be a bit psychic...
But I know it's there.
That love inside you fight.
With a wish I might like it.

No, I may not be a psychic...
But that fragrance you wear is in the air.
You want to give me a chance.
To cuddle up and romance.

I believe you want me alone.
To claim and have me as your own.
You want me close enough to hear...
Those sweet and soft whispers in my ear.

And I may not be a bit psychic.
But I know it is there.
That love inside you fighting to appear.
With a wish that I might like it.
And have it in my arms to hold it near.

Oh...
Your excitement you try to hide.
But I know it's there.
And not that deep inside.
And I just may keep it a secret...
Until you make me aware.

I may not be a psychic...
But I know what you feel,
For me...
Is there!
 
Lawrence S. Pertillar
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Lawrence S. Pertillar