Circumstance

They handed him his
New lock and combination.
He walked down the long
Hallways searching for
His designated spot,
A lonely number in a
Sea of bodies
Oblivious to
His circumstance.


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Well

She walks a half-hour
To the well,
Waiting her turn to
Lower a stained
Plastic bucket down
A hole to the
The brackish water
That will be in
That night’s soup.
She heads back,
Tilting to one side,
Looking down at
The garbage-strewn
Pathway, a dog
Scampering away.


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Unconventional Being - Minimalist Poetry Book by Guy Farmer

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Forced

Do as I say,
There are rules in this house,
Confess your trespasses,
Obey us without questioning,
Don’t stray from the norm,
Keep your thoughts to yourself.

Delicate, vulnerable beings
Ground up and extruded,
Forced into a mold greased with
Insecurity and fear.
Unmet needs, unfinished business.
Creativity, humanity desecrated.

Lesson

I told her my worth,
Through my actions,
What I would
Settle for,
Such was my desperation.
She gleefully accepted,
Repeatedly indulging in
My diminished sense of
Self — the overtly needy
Kindness of someone
Not yet confident.
A lesson lost on me
Until I was ready.

Disdain

They mean business and
Will not stop marching
Until their contemptible
Cravings are satisfied,
The urge for the next fix
Predictably – interminably
Beckoning in the distance.
Equality and fairness
Signify nothing,
Any hint of a thought
About helping anyone who
Has been felled by their
Machiavellian oversight
Is quickly ushered away.
The only goal here is
To gut the wounded creature
They disdain so much and
Lay its entrails at
The feet of their rulers.

Self-Made

I’ve got mine.
You get yours.
I’ve got mine.
You get yours.

I made it on my own.
Survival of the fittest, man.
Why don’t you just do
What I do.
Be self-made, man.

Quit whining.
Self-reliance, man.
No handouts.
Do what I do.
Call your dad already.

Family Tradition

Too many years toiling in
Dangerous surroundings, risking
Life and limb with every passing
Eternity.

Too many years wiping the dust
From his eyes, a hacking cough a
Perpetual reminder of his career
Choice.

Too many years. His son came of
Age and was pridefully encouraged,
Expected, to carry on the family
Tradition.

Wedding of My Dreams

I’m getting married;
Planning the wedding of my dreams.
No expense spared,
I’m a true princess.
I’ve known since I was six.

This is my day.
My day to shine.
My day to glow.

Oh, true love wrapped in
Bows and an oversized gown,
Used once. Only six stress-filled
Months to deplete bank accounts.
Joy and love, manicured, compulsory.
The weight of judgment.

Calamitous Cacophony

He walked into the room,
Heard the music, and
Proposed that his favorite
Song be played. Turn it up and
Let’s all enjoy. Isn’t it great,
Quiet — this part is my favorite.
Eyes closed, mind closed, heart
Closed, closet door closed
Inches from your face if you
Don’t listen. A single dominant
Ear consuming all sound,
Ravenously demanding more,
A calamitous cacophony.