poems about power

Let Me Tell You Something

Let me tell you
Something about
The world: It’s a
Cold, dark, savage
Place where the only
Way to survive is to
Kill or be killed.

Forget all this
Touchy-feely stuff
About diversity or
Diplomacy, the only
Thing people understand
Is a harsh slap
Across the face.

My bomb is bigger
Than yours, that’s all
That matters, your
Ideas about peace and
Collaboration are
Only naive
Pipe dreams.

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Imposed

Adolescently clever plan
Concocted by anxious minds
Jostling for position.
Fragile egos contrive
A storyline whereby
Half the population
Huddles at the mercy of
Self-appointed masters,
Insecure autocrats with
Weak self-esteem
Dominating others to
Feel better about themselves.
The broken leading the
Unfortunate, artificial
Power differentials,
Brutally imposed order.

Screams Bloody Murder

He’s never wanted
For anything in his
Life, has always had
Access to all parts
Of society and
Every opportunity,
Invariably invited
Into all the clubs,
His name appearing
On each guest list
For a bite of the pie,
Or more accurately,
The whole thing.
He feels great about
His current status and
Screams bloody murder
When anyone is given
The chance to enter
His rarefied echelon
Unearned, unappreciated.

Afraid of Rainbows

Behind a stern moustache he was
Afraid of rainbows. They destroyed
The natural order of imposed
Dominance and rigid structure.
A sneer dismisses all vestiges of
Hope and fancy as a child laying
On his back, admiring clouds on a
Balmy day and jabbing a fork in his
Forearm to displace enjoyment.
Stop the fun, halt the relish,
Live where dreams go to die,
An unreturned greeting.

Dispatch

Entangled in a battle of words,
Each straining to gain the
Upper hand, everything and
Nothing at stake, mercilessly
Thrusting, gouging, flailing,
Writhing to gain advantage,
Position, supremacy.

A clash with no winners,
One perishes, the other
Hobbles away to dispatch
Another day. Unthinking,
Uncaring, a feral organism
Protecting its young, twisted
Mouth, livid eye, interlude.

Reduced

Stripped of
Humanity,
Reduced to a
Faceless
Number,
More easily
Exploited,
Insignificant,
Exhausted,
Used piece
Of detritus
Carelessly
Discarded when
No longer
Needed,
Replaced with
A new object.

On the Golf Course

In letters to his friends,
As an aside on the golf course,
He voices his disdain for
The leeches, the ones who
Can’t make it because they
Don’t have the initiative
He does, the ones who
Sponge off of others and
Live a life of taking,
The ones he never has to
See as the gates to his
Compound close behind him,
They aren’t as special as him,
He keeps telling himself,
And anyone who will listen.

Fiscal Philosophy

If you want to
Be part of our
Thing then you
Will absolutely
Submit to any
Rule we impose,
Gut anything we
Say you should,
Cut everything
We tell you to.
It’s for your
Own good,
We know best,
Our fiscal philosophy
Has shown
Time after time
How good
It is at destroying
Entire nations.

Like Every Other Morning

He woke up, like every other
Morning, and watched the
Early news while drinking
Instant coffee and eating the usual
Microwave breakfast sandwich,
Muttering to himself that
People should be satisfied with
What they’ve got and quit
Complaining about their
Situations. At least they’ve
Got jobs, they’re better off
Than where they came from.
Nobody ever handed me anything.
Life is hard, there’s no free rides.
The sun ascends above the
Horizon, its rays never
Disinfecting the ingrained
Scarcity of imagination.