Poetry

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Convicting Scenes from MY work's break room-

A fully bearded forty year old man,
In a corner by the vending machine
Engrossed in a game called clash of clans
thoughtfully makes strategic selections
on an iPad, or some such screen

Another man consumes gayly
Some Fritos from the bag
While soaking up his daily
dose of indoctrination
from the local propaganda rag

An older gent gets his daily fix
Scooping up with a plastic spoon
His Hershey's Kiss filled trail mix
While trading read, red rag sections
with the other informed consumed

Several young men loudly and proudly discuss
ideas of their own strategic tools
For investing their hard earned surplus
by giving greed laden donations
to the state sanctioned poor man's tax pool

This valuable skill set peppered
with enlightened discussions shed
of how the Gladiators endeavored
to cover in dramatic fashion
the seven and a half point spread

A woman washes down her chemo meds
with a cold can of Diet Coke
Angrily chewing on stiff Pizza Hut bread
Bemoaning "the man's" lack of concern for correction
of the microwave still broke

Others in respite scattered
Follow Facebook posts filled with fakery and memes
or that infamous solitaire green screen oft shattered.
fast flicking fingers of distraction
Seem to be our modern theme

My mere mortal, sinful side thinks
"Lord! Please help us!"...
As Humanity, in vanity, sits precariously on the brink...
At least though, I'm a step ahead, for I lack in complicit participation
of these blissfully ignorant break time hijinks

Yet, my Lord with conviction whispers this response,
lovingly into my mind's other ear,
"No. You are miles behind MY Will for you My son.
What exactly are YOUR own actions?
By the way, YOUR own break time is done."

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