Those Pickings Grow Slim
Although their cupboards are bare,
Those nourished on a greatness...
Have not been prepared,
To one day accept...
Their supply will be blocked.
No longer stocked,
With a variety of treats...
From which to pick and eat.
Or abandoned!
And as those pickings grow slim...
A protesting to be fed,
The familiar taste of delusion...
Begins to set in!
As vocal demands become impatient.
And,
However their demands are met...
And done,
Is all that they will welcome.
As they regard truths of shortages...
To be myths they resist,
And dismissed as jokes...
Poked,
On those less fortunate.
And they have been conditioned,
They will never become those folks to be poked...
Or joked.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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