poems about brokenness

Never Back Down

Never back down,
Refuse to cede ground,
It’s up to you to fight
For what’s right.
Defend your weakness
With copious bluster,
Don’t let them see
You have no idea
What you’re talking about,
And never have.


Get the Poetry Collection
Unconventional Being - Minimalist Poetry Book by Guy Farmer

Readers around the world have found pieces of themselves in these poems. Discover the collection.

Continuation

He dismisses complex
Social problems
With casual disregard,
As if no actual human beings
Suffer—
The lack of insight
Common to someone
Who has never had to
Consider anyone but himself.
Carelessly proclaiming
No possible solution,
He guarantees its continuation.

Beast

A stunted troll
Lashing out against
Ever-present
Imaginary enemies
Hiding around every corner,
Each interaction a struggle
To the death for dominance.
A gaping void at his core
Sucks all the energy out of
Anyone around him,
Leaving shriveled husks
Scuttling to and fro tending to
The bloated beast that
Is never satiated.

Middle of the Road

So, anyway,
My car broke
Down in the
Middle of the road
And some people
Wearing outfits
Stopped by and
Killed me.

Stop

His overconfident mouth
Flapping open and closed,
Unendingly spewing some
Clueless soundtrack
That means something
Only to him.
Eyes glazing over,
Heads nodding off to
The droning hum.
Nobody’s ever told him
To stop.

Big Shot

Hey, big shot,
I see you over there
With your fancy car
And empty head,
Puffed chest,
Deflated self,
Screaming for attention,
Anything to make
The oily film of
Self-loathing
Abate for a moment.

Counting

He stopped counting
After the first one-hundred or so,
Each one blending into the last,
A long parade of sad beings
Turned inside out
Because they know nothing else,
Woeful creatures who have
Never had a voice of their own,
Easily enticed by
Waiting wolves.

As They Had Always Been

It was clear
He wouldn’t have
The courage to do
Anything but what
He had always done.

It took many years
Of memories and
Experiences to get
Here, none of which
He would let go of.

Things would remain
Much as they had
Always been,
Sad and stunted,
Unexamined.

Illusion

He walks into the room,
Apprehension creasing his brow,
An unfamiliar setting
Where he’s not in control,
Where he can’t tell people
What to do, where the cold
Spotlight is trained on him and
All his frailties, the ones
He’s tried so hard to hide
And that have hurt so many.
He tries to bark some orders
To gain the upper hand,
But it doesn’t work,
The illusion vanishes
When people know how it’s done.