A Visitor Amongst The Unconscious

Maybe I am a bit more cynical.
With the same craving...
To taste forbidden truth.
On some days,
Yes...
That is exactly what it is I do.

I admit my insights,
Can be rather biting.
But I am not on a mission,
To identify pretentions.
There is nothing mysterious,
About them to be pursued.

They are all over the place!
Like...
Denial.
Decadence.
Thoughtle ssness and disrespect.

'Hey buddy?
Yeah you.
Watch your step!
There is a child in diapers,
Following you.
Don't you hear him calling you 'daddy' too? '

I marvel at the way,
Folks skip with a leap over reality.
To embrace with a welcoming,
Any sign of deceit that is greeted warmly.
With an ignoring of those hungry and homeless,
Surrounding them on the streets.
As if this pasttime entertains,
To become remembered as a bitterness...
Eventually endeared as sweet.

And pretend,
Most do...
As if this is part of the scenery.

I admit my insights,
Can be rather biting.
But I am not on a mission,
To identify pretentions.
There is nothing mysterious,
About them to be pursued.

They are as common as pigeons.
Or garbage on the streets...
People accept as signs of affection!

Maybe I am a bit more cynical.
With the same craving...
To taste forbidden truth.
On some days,
That is exactly what it is I do.
And feeling very much...
A visitor amongst the unconscious.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!