minimalist poetry

Pronouncements

I know you’re scared.
I see the discomfort
Contorting your face
When anyone gets close
To exposing who you
Really are: The broken,
Hurt being who never
Had the love he needed
And was forced to pretend
It didn’t matter,
The gentle person who
Gets trampled so many times
That he loses the ability
To feel for himself or others.
I know you have some
Fantasy about a death bed
Scene where you say the
Perfect thing that makes
Everything okay but is
Just another hollow gesture
Meaning very little to
Anyone but you.
Things were never really
As you saw them,
Pronouncements aren’t
Remotely close to compassion.

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Disconnected

Lounging in their
Obscene mansions,
Completely disconnected
From the plight of their
Very own employees
Who struggle to make
Ends meet, to pay for the
Most basic of necessities:
Inexpensive food,
A one-bedroom apartment
For six people, utilities,
Public transportation.
At the top,
They don’t seem to care,
They never have to shop
In their own stores,
Or rub shoulders with
Anyone toiling to
Barely survive day to day,
People become nothing,
Figures on a balance sheet.

Destinations

Things never turn out well
When people put their
Hopes and dreams in
Violence, hardness,
False bravado,
Trying to project strength
Where only fear resides.
There are so many other paths
Leading to far more
Beautiful destinations
Than dread,
Places where love is the norm.

Every Single Day

You don’t know what
It’s like to be forced to
Be deferential, to
Constantly defuse situations
That could rapidly escalate
Just because someone
Knows he can overpower you,
To have to laugh at
Comments you loathe because
You don’t want things to
Go terribly wrong,
To keep your opinions
To yourself lest you
Bruise an overinflated ego,
To have to fend off
Unwanted advances
Every single day,
To have people sneer at you
When you speak up.

Face

A jovial, friendly sort,
Always a joke or
Smile at the ready.

Back at home,
He rages against
Those people.

Ask him in public,
He loves everyone
And everything.

In private is
Where the truth
Shows its face.

Nonplussed

She doesn’t pause for
Even a moment
Before she launches
The attack,
Anger buzzing inside her,
Thoughts clouded by
An overwhelming need
To fight.
The object of her onslaught
Recoils nonplussed,
Disconcerted by the
Abrupt ferocity,
Unaware of why it’s
Happening at all,
Given that this is
The first time they’ve met.

Dominant

Contrary to what some
People believe,
You can’t oppress a group
That is in power,
No matter how much its
Members screech and holler
And pretend that they
Are victims.
The dominant group
Is just that, dominant.

Travel

If you had told me
That that one event
Would change my life
So irreparably, I
Would have laughed at
Such an outlandish
Notion, as I’m sure
I did about so many
Other things of
Lasting consequence.
If only there were
A way to travel back
And implore myself to
Consider other options
Instead of picking up
The pieces for the
Rest of my days.

Unfinished

Stop for a moment and
Think back to a time
When we weren’t fighting,
When we agreed that
We liked each other and
That we were both
Human beings deserving of
Being treated with kindness
And compassion, when we didn’t
Vilify one another to
Appease some internal
Feeling of discomfort,
Some part of us unfinished
That we refuse to address.