poems about society

Point

At what point
Did we lose it,
The ability to
Care for someone
We don’t know and have
No vested interest in?
How did we become
A people who aren’t
Moved by the suffering
Of a child or the
Struggles of a neighbor?
Benevolence supplanted by
Angry faces creased
With bitterness and
Disappointment.
Disgruntled brutes
Regretting unfulfilled lives,
Meaningless existences,
Spewing hatred
Instead of love.


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.

Condition Worsening

His condition worsening,
He goes to the doctor and
Finds out about a
Drug that will help him
Feel better and that the
Pharmaceutical company has
Inflated the price of by
Five thousand percent for
His convenience and well-being.

Without Questioning

Nobody talks about anything
Around here,
It’s not allowed.
Follow the rules
Without questioning,
Keep your thoughts to yourself,
Set aside any critical thinking.
A sullen figure sits in a chair
Devising random ways of
Imposing arbitrary whims
That never keep him safe.

Indifferent

With every shingle-lifting gust,
The unwelcome wind pummels the
Humble dwelling. Inside, a small,
Elderly woman wonders how she’ll
Pay for the damage, times being
What they are. She shuffles
To the stove and turns on a burner,
Carefully setting the tea kettle on it.
Another series of indifferent blasts
Rattles the walls, nobody calls.

Sham

Holding them hostage,
Preying on their greatest fears,
Providing facile answers
To existential questions,
Threatening terrible punishment
Should they even think about
Straying from under his
Permanent watch.
A con man’s pitch
Delivered by a sociopath,
Separating earnest rubes
With dark sides
From their money
Without them even knowing,
A wink, homily, sham.

Recognized

They got their first
Flushing toilet
(They formerly had to
Lug buckets of water
To the bathroom)
Such an accomplishment,
Proof of progress enjoyed
By a large family
Surviving on the income
From their small business.
Many years later,
The whole neighborhood
Is developed.
They have paved roads,
Mostly reliable electricity,
But they still remember
When they lived almost
As squatters in a
Brick structure they built
With their own hands,
And the day they were
Recognized as people.

Abstraction

Another denied claim.
On the other end,
Someone doesn’t get
The treatment and medication
They desperately need.
Death is but an abstraction
In this office,
A mirage in the distance,
Not worth thinking about.
She goes home
At the end of the day,
Lives her life
With the money she’s made,
Telling herself it’s okay.

Big Daddy

An authoritarian regime
Can’t seize power without supporters,
Fearful creatures clutching onto
Fever dreams of a past that never existed,
Exuding cruelty,
Lacking compassion,
Celebrating a terrifying inability to
Feel anything, for anyone, at any time,
Dullards hypnotized by a
Big Daddy promising a golden age
Where they can once again
Step on everyone else’s neck.

Just as It Should Be

He sees them as inferior
Because, if they weren’t,
Then they would threaten
His power, status, dominance,
Supremacy.
It’s always been this way,
Him on top, them on the bottom,
Just as it should be,
No need to change things,
That would just make it
More difficult for him.