On The Verge Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

There is a buffet to taste!
A banquet of assorted nibbles to consume...
And they claim their ways are 'down-to-Earth',
With back home thoughts and yesterdays,
To make room for a tomorrow...
Traced with grandma's remedies,
And the use-to-be's of eras past!

These days today?
Are not for backyard reviews...
Shared by neighbors borrowing cups of sugar!

Little Johnny may be in prison.
Flipping through scriptures!
Humming hymns to his cellmate.
As they bond as males can only bond in captivity!

And Susie may be bragging about baby daddy drama.
Between painted nails and club hopping dates.
Only to complain she's not a superwoman...
Who can't raise children by herself,
AND microwave TV dinners at the same time!
As if she was hypnotized to spread her legs...
To pop out dolls to play with at playtime!

Delusional are these high tech creatures,
Wanting leisures at someone else's expense!
Someone to dump the blame game on!

And yet like sheep...
People have corralled themselves within stifleness,
For purposes to bring attention to a legacy of ignorance!
Even though they are surrounded by activities to feast...
They choose to dine on familiarity that keeps them tied,
To traditions that make little sense!

But then...
Who is to question what IS making sense at all?
Aren't we living in a society that's being craved,
By those depraved and tribal?
Aren't values we all adhere to becoming the model...
Of ALL humanity to copy with microscopic accuracy?
Especially in these times we live,
When 'correctness' is on the verge of becoming passé,
And forgotten quicker than anyone's texted message!

But then...
Who is to question what IS making sense at all?
And if it is necessary!