deep poems

Tradition

Something slightly off,
Vaguely strange.
Stiff, uncomfortable
In social situations,
Overly serious, ill at ease
Interacting with others.
Conversations oddly
Reminiscent of high school.
Inflexibility, stodginess,
Tradition trumps all,
Little tolerance or interest in
Change or progress.
Good old days that
Never existed reign supreme.
Maudlin memories of
Idealized order and conformity.

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Sound Carriage

During a moment of
Unadulterated optimism,
He told them about
His desire to pursue
An art career and they,
Being of upright and
Morally sound carriage,
Applied a heavy coat of
Judgment and suspicion
Onto his dreams,
Same as they always had,
Always would,
Courage and change
Not being all that
Salient to them.

The Way Things Are

The seething indignation
He feels in his chest
When someone is cast
Aside by some heartless
Bully who can’t even
Care enough for himself
To feel anything for others.

People condescendingly remind him
That this is the way things are,
Cavalierly ignoring the innumerable
Examples to the contrary,
Where people of conscience
Rise above self-interest and
Care for each other.

Dominate

He was larger
And more powerful
Than her so,
Instead of celebrating
Her abilities and
Encouraging her to thrive
Using her own strengths,
He decided it would
Be a great idea to
Use his physical advantage
To keep her in bondage;
A permanent cage
Built on fear
Where she was
At his mercy and whim;
A servant to this
Pathetic need to dominate.

Mechanically

It’s clear
He doesn’t
Feel a thing
When he talks
About killing
The youth.

Compassion absent,
He mechanically
Recounts how
He wouldn’t
Change a thing,
Just another day.

Plan

Create a narrative of
Fear and urgency.

Demonize
Your opponents.

Make them
An other.

Extol your
Virtue and superiority.

Pander to
Base instincts.

Carry out the plan
Mercilessly.

She Woke Up

She woke up, looked outside,
Went to the kitchen where she
Prepared a pot of tea,
Settled into her favorite chair,
The birds outside flitting about
Without a care in the world,
And continued thinking about
What had happened.

Conundrum

So, anyway, as I was saying,
I wasn’t sure if I should tell him
But, if I don’t, it’ll just get worse,
And that’s not good for anyone.
Of course, I could hold off and
Let him know on some other occasion,
But then there’s that thing that
Happened last time when I
Had the same conundrum.

Misery

She was so perfect.

Perfect eyes.
Perfect face.
Perfect hair.
Perfect body.
Perfect clothes.
Perfect career.
Perfect family.
Perfect house.
Perfect life.
Perfect everything.

Perfect misery.