poems about brokenness

Narrative

Torrential blasts of vitriol,
Lashing out uncontrollably,
Hastily concocted plots,
Unfounded, unreal, unimaginably
Daft, void of all connection to
Reality, conspiracists weaving a
Narrative of suspicion.

After work, a family gathers
To share the evening meal,
Peripherally aware of the
Encroaching clouds,
Talking about the events of the day
The dreams of tomorrow.
A rabble gathers across the street.

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Not Getting His Way

He’d do this thing
When he was challenged
In some minor fashion,
Become really quiet,
Stare with seething
Hatred — you could see
Condemnations whirling
Around in his head —
His face and body
Twitching, contorting
In discomfort, unable
To deal with the prospect
Of not getting his way.

Outward

She says she’s happy. Long hours
Pass obsessing about others and what
They think. All the while a small voice
Deep inside reminds her of events
She’s desperately trying to forget,
Memories time doesn’t smooth.

Continue looking outward where the
Answers aren’t. Seek solace in attention
From anyone and comfort from mistaken
Sympathy. When the world is about others,
It isn’t about you.

Unalleviated

One time, unconditional, unexpected,
Unadulterated by churning insecurity,
Endless pins piercing skin, gradually
Increasing intensity, perpetual lack of
Feeling. Say something, do something
Different, differently, deferentially,
Deliberately aid someone, something
Bigger than you, though impossible.
Puffed chest and blustery proclamations,
Interminable, unrequited, unalleviated.

Forgive or Forget

Somewhere in the
Recesses of his mind,
He still holds onto
Sour memories of being
Betrayed by a parent
Who he had formerly
Held in high esteem.
Thus started the vortex
That consumed his innocence
And drowned his optimism,
Coloring all his
Unhinged decisions,
Ruthlessly damaging untold
Numbers of helpless people
Just because he can’t
Forgive or forget.

We Really Do

We really don’t know how to
Say this, but we’re not sure
That things are going to
Work out, not because of
Anything you did…
Actually… (stammering),
Mainly because it just
Wasn’t what we thought it
Would be and we have to
Change it as quickly as
Possible, even though we
Really don’t have a reason
For doing it, although
We really do but would never
Just say it out loud.

Bills

A smattering of people
Gather someplace
To raise funds for
Someone’s illness.

No health insurance,
He’s always been a huge
Opponent of any type of
Public medical care.

Keep the government
Out of my business,
Don’t waste
My tax money.

Six hundred and
thirty-nine dollars
Are raised to pay
The bills.

Inside the Lines

So she began, with
Hopes and dreams and
Excitement at what the
Future might bring.
Arranged everything, as
She’d been taught and
Introduced some new, fresh
Ideas with optimistic intention.

Not enough for those
Who had lost the luster.
Years of being tumbled around,
Disoriented, missing a compass,
Hearts expired, vision clouded.
Excitement stifled, passion quelled.
Encouraged to behave just like the others.
Color inside the lines.

Crumpling

The painful sadness
Of an agile mind
Succumbing to fear,
Leaving behind any
Hope of a brighter day,
Crumpling into sorrow,
Unable to hear
A beautiful song of
Courage and love.