Dark Poems Archives - Poetry by Guy Farmer

Certain Things

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.

His Business

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

Walking together
Through the park,
Admiring all the
Lovely trees and
Beautiful animals,
Talking about anything
And everything.

Party

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.

Wholeheartedly

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

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

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.

Tumult

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.

Insolent

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.

Gem

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.

Enclave

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.

Make It Fit

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.

At Their Feet

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

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.

The Chosen

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.

Free Speech

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.

A Life of Kindness

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.

Head of the Table

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.

Irresolution

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.

Peace and Love

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.

Ends

A frightening sameness
To their looks,
Their words,
Their beliefs,
Their passions,
Their ends.
Marching in lockstep
To some concocted lore
About superiority and
Unparalleled greatness,
And the wretchedness
Of their enemy,
There always has to be
An enemy to rally against.
Their inner bonfires
Precursors to the
Inevitable conflagration.

Recognize

You’re great,
No, you’re great,
I’m great,
That’s right,
You are great,
We’re all great,
All on the same
Level, we recognize
Each other and are
Comfortable,
All broken.

Gentleman

He promoted himself as
An enlightened, educated,
Open-minded gentleman
Who could analyze
A thorny situation and
Deliver an even-handed
Verdict on what was
Really going on and
How it might be handled.
He presented himself as
A wise individual with the
Ability to understand the
World from a variety of
Perspectives, as long
As his proclamations
Were not challenged
In any way and nobody
Pointed out his bigotry.

How to Be Kind

One small action
That makes a difference
In someone else’s life,
A smile,
Reassuring word,
Listening ear,
Sympathetic heart,
Rippling through the cosmos,
As love does,
Gentle, peaceful gestures
Building upon themselves,
Transforming the landscape.
How to be kind?
The answer is inside you.

That’s It

So, anyway,
That’s it.
After so many years
It all comes to
An inauspicious end.
No fanfare,
Just unvarnished
Termination.
Hard to
Believe.

Crafting

He spent his life
Carefully crafting a
Public persona of
Authoritative confidence.

He failed,
Instead producing a
Knot of blemishes
And insecurities.

One Person

All he had heard
His whole life
Is how bad he was
And how he would
Never amount to anything,
Until one person came along
And showed him that
There was more to life,
That words didn’t have to hurt,
A wonderful new world of
Love and kindness
Unfolded before him,
Renewing his spirit and
His belief in himself.

Minority

Walking through the city,
He sees the transition
From shiny skyscrapers,
Elegant apartments,
And stately homes,
To the buildings
Fraying at the edges,
Unmaintained for
Lack of resources,
People hanging on
For mere survival.
He wonders where
It is written that
A few should prosper
At the expense
Of so many,
Why a minority who,
But for chance,
Would be like anyone else,
Struggling to make a living,
Should amass obscene wealth
And leave everyone else
To fight for the scraps,
Somewhere else,
Out of sight.

Unattended

She cries at the
Most trivial moments,
Everyone around her
Notices that it
Doesn’t quite fit
With what’s really
Going on at the time,
Memories of the
Anguish she felt as
A child bubble up
Relentlessly,
Unacknowledged,
Unattended.
She lives this way
Her entire life,
It colors her
Worldview deeply.