Better To The Taste If Roasted Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Tell me this...
How can you folks just sit.
Playing board games.
And not express one concern,
About others fighting.
Amongst themselves.
Over entitlements.
No one gets for free.
Without being taxed,
For everything.
Including...
Keeping the air and water clean.
Leaving no one found,
To be exceptions.
Or escape artists.
Regardless...
Of their ethnic heritage.
Skin color.
Religious or political affiliations.

I thought.
And forgive me for thinking this.
But I thought I heard you all,
At one time claiming...
You had been sent to deliver,
Messages.
To avoid if not prevent,
Today's conflicts.
Division and racism.
What can you say,
To defend yourselves? !

'Well...
There is this old saying,
*A small Cornish hen,
Rubbed with a bit of mustard.
And just a touch of honey.
Stuffed with diced,
Onions, celery, carrots...
With mushrooms added.
Then roasted.
Slowly.
Is better to the taste.
And the flavor?
Remarkable beyond belief! '

How old is this 'saying'?
I have never heard that before.

'Hmmm...
Let's see.
I would say...
About 2 or 3 hours.
Covered with tin foil.
And basted every 20 minutes.'

That has absolutely,
Nothing to do...
With the conflicts,
Division and racism going on.

'That was the message,
We delivered years ago.
To prevent what is going on,
These tumulterous days.
What was done to do we did.
Now...
Leave us alone.'

For how long?

'What do you mean,
For how long? '

How long will it be,
Until the hen is finished?
How long,
Will it take...
Until that 'old' saying,
Is ready to taste?
It smells delicious.