I’m poet Guy Farmer and I love writing dark poems about human folly, from the petty to the galling and reprehensible.
I love connecting with professionals who enjoy dark poetry about human folly.
Emotional, raw, and deeply personal, ‘Unconventional Being’ is a powerful poetry collection about human darkness and folly.
A small stream gurgled through
A verdant meadow under the
Content gaze of a cerulean sky.
A small boy played an improvised
Game alongside the rivulet,
Giggling with unselfconscious glee.
A small mind polluted the water to
Feed his desolation and impress his
Name upon another public building.
Accustomed to
Doing
Whatever the want
Whenever they
Want to,
For whatever reason,
With absolute
Impunity,
No fear of
Retribution.
Bullies
Wearing
The right outfit,
Preying on
The vulnerable,
Enforcing the
Status quo,
Having a
Few laughs,
Disorderly.
They had the most superficial of
Relationships where they talked about
Mundane topics and tiptoed around everything
Else. Stifling whiffs of decay and disease
Barely contained by clattering lid.
In the name of civility they forgot to relate and
Share what was really going on, acknowledge the
Sleeping giant, the misunderstandings and
Resulting rancor that formed the glacier.
Small talk prevailed, reality restrained.
She sits in a comfortable room
Surrounded by trappings of
Carefully contrived gaiety,
A union of convenience
Slowly dissolving in a
Pricey crystal wine glass.
Memories untended,
Reality makes its presence known
In a million small ways,
The inescapable aftermath of an
Impulsive, ill-conceived
Party thrown by teenagers when
Parents are away.
If she closes her eyes for a
Moment she remembers the
One who really matters.
He bristles when people
Who are onto him get
Too close, revealing
Who he really is in
Uncomfortably realistic detail,
Unbearable to someone who
Thinks he’s pulling the wool
Over people’s eyes.
A cocky mess of prancing and
Posturing jerks and twitches.
The sad gyrations of a
Cavalier clown.
He dismisses as psychobabble
Any discussion of his true character.
Long days pass, filled with
Justifications and regrets
Never uttered out loud lest
Someone like him
Makes fun of them.
Not the same
As it once was,
I hold on desperately
To what made it so
Special, a memory of
How it used to be,
Clashing with
Present reality.
Self-appointed arbiters
Of morality and righteousness,
They incessantly harass everyone
To conform to their vision of
The world and more than
Just once in while
Fall from grace when it’s
Revealed that they’re as
Fallible or even more flawed
Than people who don’t portray
Themselves as paragons of virtue.
After the inevitable collapse,
They sit whining about how it’s
Everyone else’s fault while
Plotting their next steps toward
Imposing a crushing theocracy.
How to be a kind person?
You already know how.
We all do.
Look deep inside and
You’ll find that part of you
That is free from
Fear, anger, sadness—
Your courageous self,
Without conditions or
Complications,
The version of you
That is love and peace.
You know it’s there,
Ready to embark on a
Journey of wonder.
Starve the public schools
By refusing to
Pay taxes.
Declare that teachers
And schools are
Broken.
Under the guise
Of school choice,
Dismantle the system.
Pass bills so public money
Can be spent on private,
Religious, or home education.
Help private corporations
Get their slice of
The pie.
Only support education
That furthers your
Political goals.
Issue proclamations
About how you’re
Improving education.
Helen volunteers at a
Local food pantry that
Helps people with far less
Than she has, though she
Can remember when she too
Had very little of anything.
She’s mostly chipper as
She greets the people who
Come in to ask for some
Kind of help, although
She’s particularly acerbic
About this one woman.
It seems this lowlife drives
Up to the building in
A fancy car, which rubs Helen
The wrong way, after all,
Poor people aren’t allowed
To do certain things.
The woman with the car
Never says a word, nobody
Knows her story, where she
Came from, what she had to
Overcome to get to this point,
And why she asks for assistance.
He owns a thriving company
Which affords him a lifestyle
He never could have imagined
As a child, no one in his family
Had succeeded like this before.
When he attends meetings with
Fellow business owners he
Often overhears conversations
About cutting employee pay,
Hours, benefits, training.
He emphatically disagrees
With this cold approach,
Opting instead to treat his
Workers as part of the family,
People to be esteemed.
His business is one of
Caring and kindness,
Where people are valued.
Sure, he makes money,
But not at someone’s expense.
Walking together
Through the park,
Admiring all the
Lovely trees and
Beautiful animals,
Talking about anything
And everything.
The only bad thing
About a party
Is that it
Eventually ends,
Although sometimes
It doesn’t end
Soon enough.
I would always get
A strange feeling
When they came around,
A persistent unease
Warning me that something
Could very easily go wrong
And had many times before.
Others seemed not to notice it,
Perhaps more familiar with
That type of energy.
I didn’t know what it was then,
But I do now and I still
Heed the voice that tells me
Something is amiss.
This morning
He woke up and
Resolved to
Give away a
Large part of
His fortune to
People who
Have not had the sun
Shine on them
In the same way
It has on him
And who are where they are
But for chance,
An act of kindness
Offered wholeheartedly
To fellow human beings.
If only I on outstretched wings might
Spy that which I once failed to heed.
Onward, upward, soaring, squinting,
Hoping to gaze upon that which might
Have been but for undiscerning eye.
If only I had waited one minute longer
I might have met you or mingled lives
With destiny well-acquainted.
We might have been close had we
Paused for a moment.
If only I had done that which I dreamed
I would have found my path to solace, calm,
Invincibility, fulfillment’s caress with joy.
Dance, shout, sing, act, exalt, dream
As one with unhindered jubilance.
If only a moment I had grasped as my own
To reflect on places arrived and unconsidered.
Dreams neglected, spine protected, wounds
Infected. Wake today with unclouded will and
Take flight on wings ideal, unbound.
Entrenched below
Consciousness, attitudes
Developed through rote
Reinforcement, leaving
No room for anything but
Dogma, a narrow window
No light penetrates,
A joyless trudge
Through life.
Unsettled, unknown, unbearable,
Incessantly guided by a hand
Reveling in our misfortune and
Denying the hope we once embraced,
Rug pulled out from beneath,
Dreams wrenched from exhausted spirit,
Hope doused by unending calamity.
Sunrise, sunshine, sun warms the land.
Memory of movement and possibility stirs
Slumbering aspirations.
Wake and gather courage for this day.
The weight of
A thousand slights,
Cruel treatment,
Marginalization,
Weigh upon their
Tattered shoulders.
Any vestiges of
Dignity stamped out
Without the slightest
Shred of compassion,
Constant, crushing
Scorn and belittlement.
When they finally
Rise up, it’s pointed
Out how out of control
They are, a tornado
Calling a breeze insolent.
He remembers all the
People who said he’d
Never amount to anything,
That he was incorrigible,
Deficient, devoid of promise,
Until he met the kind teacher
Who understood his plight and
Took the time to
Honor and cultivate
His intellect,
Treating him as a human being
Instead of an object of scorn,
A precious, shining, gem.
A ponderously large vehicle
With darkened windows
Is ushered through
Heavy metal gates by
A dutiful sentry hired
To protect this particular
Walled enclave of wealth
Anchored in a sea of misfortune.
Pulling up to the outlandishly
Large mansion bursting with
All the amenities, the family
Gets out, walks past the guard
Posted outside, and disappears
Behind an ornate, heavy door
Built to keep the dregs out.
I try to make it fit
But in the process
Realize I am devoting
Far too much time to
Forcing something into
A box in which it
Doesn’t belong, not
Because of any glaring
Lack of merit, but simply
Due to it’s dissimilarity.
They identify
Each other by their
Unfeeling eyes,
Rigid faces,
Infected smiles.
They form groups that
Attract others
Like them who are
Infirm inside and
Can only feel momentary
Relief by forcing
Their dogma on
Every living creature,
And it still is
Never enough to
Fill the hole,
Even when the entire
Planet is left
Gasping at their feet.
Two people grow up
In the same family,
In a small or large
Or medium town,
Experiencing many
Of the same things:
Schools, friends,
Environment, culture,
Experiences, perspectives,
Stories, ways of life.
One stays put,
Not necessarily physically
But certainly psychologically,
In an endless, desperate
Struggle to dominate,
Hoarding wealth and power,
Building self-worth through
Putting others down,
Making their lives worse
To make himself feel better.
The other sees the
Importance of kindness,
Helping others thrive,
Giving of himself so that they
Might not have to suffer,
Striving to build a more
Gentle world where love
And peace are the norm.
Two people grow up
In the same place.
Hardness smothers
The landscape, muffling
Contemplation, eradicating
Nuance. The once unthinkable
Becomes the norm, toxicity
Pervasive, accepted,
Glorified in circles shrinking
To outsiders, the chosen
Throwing a party for themselves.
He’s surprised and
More than a little
Offended when it’s
Pointed out that he
Has said something
Incredibly rude to
The young woman
Seated next to him.
So it also goes with
Many things he says
To myriad people in
Multiple contexts,
Spreading horribleness
With impunity under
The pretense of
Free speech.
They’ll have you believe
That it’s undesirable
To be nice, compassionate,
But, as has been shown
Time after time,
What really counts is
How you treat others—
Whether you are able
To heal yourself enough
To empathize with
Someone else’s plight
And help them even when
You don’t have to,
The difference between
Surviving and blossoming,
A life of kindness.
The best he can do,
Lash out at people who
Never had the opportunities
He did, who never did
Anything but make his meals,
Shine his shoes,
Clean his toilet.
Out of all the choices
Set before him,
He settles on writing
Things to hurt them,
To secure his place
At the head of the table,
And make sure the
Would be usurpers
Don’t get any ideas.
Her house in the
Distance, he wishes
He could have said
What he wanted to
But couldn’t, an
Uncomfortable silence
Filling the room
Instead, the weight of
Irresolution, impossible
To ignore or push aside.
They dismissively state
That peace and love
Are dead,
Were never a reality,
But I know otherwise
Because I see all the
Wonderful things
People do for each other
And the great reservoir of
Kindness that exists
Inside each of us,
Ready to be shared
With our fellow
Human beings,
Building a caring world
Together.