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Soon Will Come to Be Shown

Left to sob are those addicted,
To rituals that contradict.
And it may be hopeless to awaken them,
From lives restricted to limitations and sins...
That conflict.

All have been conditioned,
To accept traditions without thought or compromise.
How can someone considered to be a nonconformist...
Expose to those known,
Their 'realities' have been based on lies.
And that to them soon will come to be shown.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One Never Knows What Fate Holds

Why isn't my life filled with chaos?
I attempted to gain membership.
I was refused.

There was a willingness on my part,
To participate too!
I wanted to be like them.
You know,
The curious type?
Well...
That led to suspicion.
My activities were dismissed.

So I was ostracized years ago,
For being a nonconformist.
Which 'then' was not true at all!
I wanted to fit in!
With the giving of my time,
And everything to prove...
I was not different.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Please Consider Becoming Our Leader

Defiant.
Nonconformist.
Rebellious.
Mili tant.
Nationalistic.
Irreverent.
Blasphe mous.
Dysfunctional.
And psychotic.
With deviant ambitions!
Plus you have the right touch of bigotry,
Bordering on racism.

'Hey...
Why don't you run for office.
These things we already know about you.
And...
You are the only one left,
Who can best represent us!
We know you can be trusted.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Victims Of Lies

It's not unpatriotic,
To take a stand...
Against decaying issues
Affecting your fellowman!
Or raising a voice,
In nonconformist flair.
If more believed in justice shared...
Conflicts experienced now,
Would not exist!
Would not be there!
But indifference and greed,
Has freed a beast that seizes...
Rights once taken for granted,
Now all are inflicted with much that displeases!
And opportunities we all had,
Now dissolve before our eyes.
'What about 'us'? '
Are heard the shouts and cries.
By those of cold shoulders who now clearly see...
It's not me,

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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That Is A Mystery

Why is there such a high crime rate,
In these neighborhoods.
And the people hating themselves,
The way they do?

'That is a mystery.
One would think that the ways of the demon,
Taught in the churches on such a consistent basis...
Would have eliminated all of the evilness by now.
Huh?
Or that poverty, homelessness and hunger...
Would not exist.

But see...
I would not have noticed that at all,
If you had not brought that to my attention.
I had been ostracized many years ago.
Yep.
For being a nonconformist.
Had you not invited me to visit your relatives,

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I'll Prepare the Kool-Aid

I am called a nonconformist
Because I choose to be who I am...
After finding myself.
They are still waiting for approval and acceptance.
Something certified to help them feel worthy.
They believe I seek membership,
When I approach them as they gather...
Waiting patiently in line to pass inspections!
All dressed to impress and practicing their speeches!
Someone from 'inside' directs me to come immediately...
I am expected the voice inflects.
Someone yells out, 'How can he go before us?
He's not dressed for the part! '
I offered apologies for being late to those inside who wait!
Looking back at those with pretentions on their minds,
And turned up noses captured on them all the time!
I responded, 'I am here on business. Not to masquerade!
Many of you are here earlier than expected!
After I'm done...I'll prepare the Kool-Aid!
Spiked...

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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More Out Of It Than In and Under Spotlight

I never intended to master subservience.
And respect I find difficult to give,
To anyone incompetent.
That makes little sense to me.

I know the difference between child's play,
Work and having relaxing fun...
Doing nothing at all but chilling out!
Without one concern to worry about.

I feel freer than many who are attached to things,
With such an obedience to keep them.
As if those 'things' were limbs extended.
To express a level of achievement.

And the more I pursue dreams,
With a wish to fulfill each one.
I find I have become more strict and limited,
Than those who speak of their conservative ideologies.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Quickly Assessed To Suspect

If one's intelligence was a defense used against,
The strangle hold of an increasing ignorance...
And events associated to its prominence.
To end with a smothering of common sense.
Then why has it been an exorbitant expense,
To convince...
That the education one has is a vital benefit.

Especially today when many are offended,
By anyone with a thought process...
Confessing an expertise easily to connect dots.
Confusing many to address without that ability.

And once this is admitted with a proof that is served,
That person becomes quickly assessed to suspect...
As a threatening nonconformist to be watched and observed.

'Do you mind passing me more BS, please?
The taste of it is so fresh.
Is it 'never' out of season?

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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They Remember

What makes you say you are more qualified,
To represent the needs of the people.
With a connected understanding,
That makes them unquestion your experiences...
Free to erase from them any doubt,
About your commitment.

'Well...
All of those you now hear cheering me on,
Behind us?
Every one of them has had opportunity,
To drag me through the coals.
Objecting to my outspoken comments,
Regarding the decline of their quality of life.

And that was a few years ago,
When they were quick to label...
Those opposing,
As crazy mixed up nonconformist maverick.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nonconformist

Of course I've been driven to madness.
Haven't you?
It's chic.
It's so 'with it' today,
To express some form of insanity.
Butt cracks are being exposed.
Breasts implants are nearly being sold,
At fast food chains.
The police are smoking more weed,
Than I've ever done in the '70's.
And corruption?
Children are selling electronic devices...
In elementary schools!
Yes.
And at good prices too I might add!
I passed an elementary school the other day,
And this kid, no more than twelve years old...
Was using two cell phones! Two!
And I can not afford one!
Of course I've been driven to madness.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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