poems about brokenness

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.

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Latent

The smallest opportunity
To lord over someone
Sends him into paroxysms
Of bliss, his true nature
Rears its grotesque head
With surprising facility.

Churning, just below the
Surface, a latent reservoir
Of domineering autocracy,
Impatient to impose its
Unrestrained dysfunction on
The next sorry victim.

Better

Sharing a quiet moment
With his family in a
Warm living room,
He reminisces wistfully
About the idyllic days of
His youth when everything
Was better and the
Complexities of the
World were non-existent.
His friends and he would
Play stick ball for hours
Until their moms called them
In for supper, carefree days
Spent enjoying the fresh air,
Roaming freely,
Incognizant of what was
Really happening just
A couple miles away.

As If Nothing Happened

He will always
Tell you exactly
What he thinks,
Regardless of whether
It is of any interest
To anyone but him,
Or destroys you at
Your very core;
He’ll just say it and
Go about his business
As if nothing happened.

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.

A Portrait of Cowardice

He claims to love.
When faced with
Crucial opportunities
To demonstrate it,
He chooses his default
Position, the one that
Requires no thought
Or effort, the only
Strategy he knows.
So many occasions to
Show his concern,
It’s in there,
Smothered by fear.
He puffs out his chest
Indignantly,
Doubles down on
Cowardice.

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.

Subdued

Another child lies dead,
His killer exonerated,
A life less important.
Entrenched power structure
Preserved, secured,
Protecting its own.
Few tears shed by the
Part of the community
That sees him as other,
An animal to be subdued.
A grieving mother and
Father shake their
Heads in resignation.

Remainder

Right around this time
Every year, they
Gather toys for
The children of
The less fortunate,
Sometimes coats and
Sundry clothing,
Perhaps some food.
It fills them with
A sense of magnanimity,
Doing something good
For others.
The remainder of the year,
In daily conversation,
At the ballot box,
They believe in
And vote for the
Very people and policies
That create the need.