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Eternally Fortified

There is a place...
Deep within the crevices,
Of their recessed minds!
Where they perceived themselves envied.
Conditioned to believe they were in possession,
What others wanted to take.
Others wanted so badly...
They felt a need to defend themselves,
With weapons and attitude.

They believed themselves highly educated.
Although a few...
Even with degrees,
Could comprehend, read or write.
Even fewer than that,
Had common sense.
And those who did express it,
Were feared!
Even though rarely used.

One day when they awakened,
To address what had been rumored,
As 'reality'!
They found their greatness gone.
They discovered those they despised...
Could care less who they were.
In fact...
They had the better lives!

'Where is my mink, Harry?
Is it still in storage? '

Who tricked these people into beliefs,
Of nonsense?
Who damaged their minds?
And left them quite densed?
Whose standards and quality of life,
Depleted over night?

'Certainly not mine.
I still have tons of caviar! '

Who finally discovered they had worshipped,
Decadence and greed?
Who finds they are economically busted?
With a sick point of view...
That has left them to grieve?

'Harry...
Is that 'you' in there,
Doing that Orson Welles imitation?
I wish you would stop it.
It's so annoying.
Come help me select fabric,
For drapes.'

And...
Even if they solicited,
No where would they discover...
Anyone to show them,
Empathy or sympathy!
And even with this acknowledged...
They 'still' perceived themselves,
The envy of those filled with jealousy!

'That's a 'keeper'.
I love that line.'

Even those who loaned them money.
And owned everything they had!
Including their property and mentalities!
Did not express sadness.

'Don't worry!
They will never take away our racism!
And 'that' we will keep eternally fortified.
We must remain encouraged!
We must...
Maintain our birthright.
Let us now descend,
Within the bowels of our caves!

These theme parties are getting more extravagant.

You're going to love what I did.
I had a designer to do each room,
To my specifications.
So authentic!
You are not going to believe the detail.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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