Plastic Lived Lives Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

What game is this,
Showing rusting with age.
Yet repeatedly played to ask,
'Where is that leadership?
Why isn't it shown to be known,
And unquestioned to be...
In our presence represented? '

Oh...
Poor are the souls,
Who have been sold delusions.
And fantasized into an alternate Universe.

So much in a few short months has changed.
A shopping for new impressions to make,
Has left many squeezing their held credit cards...
So tightly,
Shock and disbelieving...
Their plastic to live lives,
Is beginning in their hands...
To melt from them away.
And the pain?
Unbearable!

While others accustomed,
To dancing from one change to another...
On a daily basis seeking shelter.
And food to eat.
Swallowing their pride, dignity and humiliation.
In a nation declaring to be the greatest,
Place to live on Earth.
Now has more than just a few,
Doing the 'jitterbug'...
Like those 'others' but not to amuse.
Having skills and being diversified...
Is not the life expected,
For the ones with noses and butts stuck up.

Well...
So much in a few months has changed.
It seems even the 'elite' now walk streets.
And not to make impressions.
But to ask questions.
About how to make look easy,
A life to live it disparaged and disenfranchised.
But also how to 'swagger shuck and jive'.
With a doing to maintain a rhythm of life...
Difficult to sustain but done,
In such an entertaining way.

"Uh...
You want me to show you,
How to do what? "

-You know,
Twist and Shout.
And wave my hands in the air,
Like I just don't care.
You know...
Be funky.
With a getting loose,
To the hip and the hop of the beat.
You know,
To the hip and the hop of the beat.-

"What you can do is this...
Put that mask back on your face.
Keep your social distance.
And stay away,
From those who prefer you do it.
You have done enough,
Of that funky stuff already."