Those Who Shake A Tail Feather
Are those who shake a tail feather,
In more control than those...
Shaking all their feathers?
And if so...
Can it be said,
They are more skilled...
At shaking their tails?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Her Punishments Are Not Random
When Mother Nature is angered,
Doesn't it seem her punishments...
Are not random?
Mother Nature knows,
Specifically and without mystery...
Exactly who to spank to awaken.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Screw You Poem
Please?
Comeon,
Please?
Please!
Look...
You are not that good anyway!
I am only begging,
Because I find it to be convenient.
So...
Don't get it messed up in your head.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Spreading of Ignorance
You can not blame a fool...
For wishing to expose,
Learned skills and acquired talents.
But by all means...
A hefty fine can be applied,
To a spreading of ignorance denied.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Do You Know what Time It Is?
The early bird catches the worm.
'Do you know what time it is?
Either take a shower...
Or go back to sleep.
I'm not trying to catch anything,
But some 'zees' at this hour.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Is No And!
Flip flopping evaluations,
Have done nothing to stop...
The degradation of humanity.
'And...? '
There is no and!
Not when discussions of it,
Have disgusted into a silence.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I For You Will Not Abuse My Mood
And I,
Refuse resentments.
Made to make a difference sent.
Confused laments,
Are not my sentiments.
Since I for you...
Will not abuse my mood,
To yield in crazing arguments.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Are Getting On My Last Nerve
What do I believe?
You are getting on my last nerve.
And I am keeping the faith,
You will soon be set free...
Not to see me,
Be unforgiving!
Let us bow our heads in prayer!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Can't Put My Finger On It
Why Don't I like you?
I don't know.
I can't put my finger on it.
I just know I don't.
Maybe one day,
We will become lovers.
And I'm sure by then,
I will have an explanation.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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With Frosting On It
The taste of the pudding,
Is usually reserved...
For those who enjoy it.
Those who prefer cake,
With frosting on it after it is baked...
Will await patiently to be satisfied.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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