If I had any sense…
If I had any sense, I would have pounced on this poetical path long in the past. Painstakingly perfecting my ability to prosecute the public’s painted packages of perversion. The people have placed a pompous pretense of a palatine in a prominent position of power and prestige. If I had any sense, I would not stand as a petrified pacifist to the perpetrator’s Pandora’s box of pandemonium, but instead post up against the panic to present parallels to the paranoia. Our personal parade towards paradise is the paranormal paradox of a population predicated on parasitic paramount. A population purposely pretending to be parched for the sole purpose of avoiding the provision, pardon or payment for its previous pernicious poison. Parenthesis: Reparations aren’t paid in parchment or papyrus. Explain the paralysis of the public and poor state of parity. I can’t.
If I had any sense, I would have parlayed more of my parmesan in past parlance. Pitted myself against the pumped up punks, putrid pimps and other popular pipsqueaks who were particularly delighted in the partaking of socially poisoning less popular people. But, I didn’t. If I had any sense, I would have prowled for prey and punished their provisional provocation by placing them in proximity to purgatory. *Pss* It’s a process of purification, but I didn’t. Rather, I chose to be a part-time partisan of the party line, securing a passionate partnership with the paraphernalia of the plush pastures. My patent never depended on powering through holes, playing joans or pathetically plastering myself to a parish. A patient patron of patience, I patrolled for the pearly payload, a peaking path from the presence of such peasantry. A pitiful preference as presently I’m preoccupied with the pursuit of penance through pen, pencil and paper, expressing my penetralia. If I had any sense, I would have realized the potent penicillin of poetry for it has been my prevailing penology, but I didn’t.
If I had any sense, I would have pricked my pride to pick a premium price for this poetry to be published. Presided over proceeds of my private enterprise. Instead, I am the privileged prodigal pupil of procrastination. Prolific when postponing programs of progress and prone to promptness only when pronouncing the paraphrases of prophecy or persecuting the propositional propaganda of propitiation and its protagonist.
But; maybe I do have sense, for I have perceived the peculiar pedigree of pedagogy permeating my person. I persist in my petition to perform, at profound peril, a perpetual permutation of our young people. A pious pilgrim of pedagogy,I persuade their perplexity to pass. My pledge is to their empowerment. I do have sense and I promise to point my impressionable pupils towards the portal of potential, possibility and prosperity.
