Back To Life Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Back To Life



Back to life.
And back to accept,
The once ignored and rejected...
Reality of it.

Quests to chase possessions to get,
With unending taxes attached...
To disguise an ownership,
Not to come to realize.
Or have confiscated by a local government.
Using homestead laws,
To take away whenever they wish...
One's land or property to declare,
Debts unpaid remain to exist.
Gives them a reason to do this and quick.

Back to life.
Back to the reality of it.

Many have come to learn,
Humility to earn can burn impressions made.
When indebted to credit and borrowed loans,
Begin to unravel to leave baffled...
Those in the midst of their picked escapades.
Many have come to learn,
From lessons difficult but taught to teach...
Happiness to have and done basically,
Has never been distant but within reach.
And life to experience it,
Brings back these thoughts to always keep.

Back to life.
Back to finding a peace of mind,
More satisfying.
Back to life to leave behind,
Social climbs once defined as a way of life...
Forever to live to do with it done approved.
Back to life to like it.
Back to life to feel more excited.
And to do to know it possible...
A happiness to achieve to feel it felt believed,
Is a personal accomplishment.

Back to life.
And back to accept,
The once ignored and rejected...
Reality of it.
To face.
With all delusions erased.

'I don't know how anyone can be so happy.
And not have a 'thing' to show a reason why.
At least I leave people knowing 'why' I am happy.'

~And why are you happy? ~

'Because I have 'things'.
Open your eyes.
I've spent my entire life making it obvious.'

Tuesday, May 10, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: life
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Michael Walkerjohn 13 May 2016

Aloha Lawrence... Jacobs Ladder... the scify verson... from the twilight zone to beyond believing Kirk and Spock and Macoy are laughing their assets off! Speaking of Witches in Eastwick and our brother Jack and What does Magic do with all his dough? making is obvious did not prove ludicris or mooney ish or spanglish is not a phuucking language so is not engrish! What is this we speak, this weak dribble of machined 0101010101010101010101010010101010101010101000000111110100101001111110001010001010101coould we get some wittnesses? and perhaps Marvin, and Teddy, and Prince? Six pence is half a shilling or more or less for a cup of tea... and that queen just wanted your head! The poisoned bunch now wants all your chattel! Any other delusions remain to be brushed aside calmly? Truly a fine write on the plight of the want-to-be- capitalist! All of the best from this life, to you, and all of your relations... Michaelw1two

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