By The Hour Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

By the hour.
Distrust and fear,
Is being devoured like treats.
Leaving senses sentenced,
To feel incomplete and not centered.
By threats that are served.
And everywhere for free.

Enforced to eat obscenities and dispair.
No more discreetly,
People meet on street corners...
Just to discuss,
What they've seen at the movies.
Or on TV.
Unaware their minds are being reminded,
Happiness to have it...
Has begun from them to become flushed.
And by the hour.

How sour and bitter life has become.
More are heard to have these thoughts come.
And with it done by the hour,
As if from this it is pointless to run.
Since too many have accepted invitations,
To remain where they are staying stunned.
Being devoured.
Like petals purposely picked to prevent growth,
Of flowers before full bloom.

By the hour.
Distrust and fear,
Is being devoured like treats.
Leaving senses sentenced,
To feel incomplete and not centered.
By threats that are served.
And everywhere for free.
With the intent to see them lose vitality.
With the intent to see them wither.

By the hour.
Being devoured.
By crime, corruption and rumors of wars.
By the hour.
Being devoured.
By threats that are served.
And everywhere for free.
With the intent to see,
More lose their vitality.

With intent to see and witness,
The petals of flowers picked to wither.
With the intent to see and witness,
A destruction to accept...
The feeding of it fed that is released.
On the hour. By the hour...
Of every day!