Fashionable Trashing Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Fashionable.
An elitist trashing.
Thieves,
Bored with a greed feasting.
Have become public,
With their vindictive ways display...
How their preference for betrayal,
Is done viciously to do.
And to each other.
Proven as if to compete,
Within a family of sleaze loving creeps.

Fashionable.
An elitist trashing.

Defining to all who witness this.
What treason to teach it,
Becomes a worshipped commitment.
Vowing one's soul as if ordained.
And devoted for life to realize and remain,
A thug. A thief. A loyal creep.
On the inside but not out.
To flaunt or brag about.
Subtle to accept.
A presence that reflects,
Impeccable and proper etiquette.

Fashionable.
This elitist trashing.

Affecting the most prestigious establishments.
Giving unsuspecting believers,
These 'doves' are not vultures.
Preying on them to solicit misdeeds.
Since picked to be their leaders.
Identified to obtain the best of qualities.
Not the gutter rats in masquerade.
Disguising to be wholesome deities.

Fashionable.
An elitist trashing.
Scented.
Smelling of mint and success.
Who have positioned themselves as Santa's Elves.
And not disciples of Lucifer.
Ready to remove hearts to collect.
Dipped them in bronze.
Before showcasing on shelves.

Now in public.
Revealing to all who they are to be.
Criminals, thieves.
An evil bunch of crooks.
Skilled in the cooking of books.
Quick to stash cash.
In a trashing to do fashionably.
Values and standards they've never had.
Yet...
Not done as fast as to have their misdeeds,
Shock!
Or have it believed they can deceive.
With such an innocence to mock.

"Oh, my God.
I can't believe this.
When is this fake news about them,
Ever going to stop? "

-Why can't it be true.
Everything reported today is not faked.
Especially when it is videotaped.
With faces shown.
In the most sordid dreadful places.-

"But...
They are wealthy. Rich.
And selected to pick,
To sit in leadership positions.
They are dressed to impress.
Suits they wear are tailored to fit.
Oh how I wish,
This nightmare ends to do it quick."

-Not to be sarcastic.
But perhaps a bit cynical.
What now will happen to our lives?
No longer kept prioritized.
To beliefs thought to keep sacred.
Destroyed by these despicable visions.
Our days?
Few are them will we see to last.-

"Stop.
Not much more can I endure."

-My acting?
Or reality? -

"Your acting?
No!
Your vision of a truth.
It's almost too realistic.
As if it is real.
To see before my very eyes."

-I have a suggestion.-

"Sure.
What is it? "

-Open them.
Now...
Move them up and down.
And then...
Try moving them side to side.-

"Whew.
Now,
What should I do? "

-Honestly?
If we were walking across a bridge,
I would stop.
And then make a suggestion to you,
You shouldn't refuse.-

"Well.
What are friends for?
If no one can depend upon their honesty."

-You?
Are impossible.-

"No.
Your version of the truth is! "