poems about society

Pool Party

As she’s being driven
To her friend’s house
For a pool party, she
Notices the homes where
The regular people live,
Home-made affairs of
Brick and mortar and
Metal doors opening
Onto streets teeming
With cars, people, and dust;
She wonders passingly
About how they
Can all live jammed into
Such cramped abodes.
Passing the shanties,
She has a fleeting sense
Of children growing up
Under corrugated tin roofs
With no running water.

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Beautiful Gift

She does what
She is told to,
Not what she
Thinks she should,
Ignoring the person
She really is:
A beautiful gift.

Do Something about It

He sits on his comfortable couch
In his comfortable house
Comfortably talking about
How uncomfortable it makes him
When one of those homeless
Lowlifes walks down his street
And how he’s going to
Do something about it someday.

Petty Tyrant

Destroying a nation
To satisfy unacknowledged,
Unmet needs, a petty
Tyrant imposing his
Frivolous whims on a
Tired, anxious populace
Whose only role
In the farce is a grim,
Resigned obedience under
The threat of violence.

Toeing the Line

It’s all smiles and
Warmth until he decides
That the prevailing
Beliefs are not his
Cup of tea, that’s when
A side he’s never seen
Before rears it’s head,
A writhing creature
Bristling with
Reproach and suspicion
At the prospect of
Someone not toeing the line,
Forcing them to reflect
On who they really are.

Barely Getting By

A giant corporation making
Billions doesn’t pay any taxes
While a family of four
Barely getting by on
Two minimum wage jobs does.

Echo Chamber

He fancies himself a
Person of above-average
Intellect, a distinction
Which allows him to make
Pronouncements about all
Kinds of thorny topics
About which he has little or
No expertise, except in
His own mind, building a
Rather robust echo chamber
Where the only thing that
Matters is what he thinks and
No other point of view has
Any hope of getting in,
A complete divorce from any
Verifiable facts, which
Leads him to
Make decisions that
Deeply hurt others.

Playing Games with Other People’s Money

A wealthy banker
Playing games with
Other people’s money,
His slippery maneuvers
Causing the economy itself
To collapse, buried under
An avalanche of deceit,
Gets paid hundreds
Of times more than
The diligent person
Washing his dishes at the
Upscale restaurant he
Frequents for lunch.

Confirmation

They seem to only admire
What other people like,
As if the only element
That lends authenticity
To any effort is
The approval of
Someone, anyone, else.
Roaming together,
Looking to each other
For confirmation.