poems about society

Enclave

A ponderously large vehicle
With darkened windows
Is ushered through
Heavy metal gates by
A dutiful sentry hired
To protect this particular
Walled enclave of wealth
Anchored in a sea of misfortune.
Pulling up to the outlandishly
Large mansion bursting with
All the amenities, the family
Gets out, walks past the guard
Posted outside, and disappears
Behind an ornate, heavy door
Built to keep the dregs out.

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The Chosen

Hardness smothers
The landscape, muffling
Contemplation, eradicating
Nuance. The once unthinkable
Becomes the norm, toxicity
Pervasive, accepted,
Glorified in circles shrinking
To outsiders, the chosen
Throwing a party for themselves.

Ends

A frightening sameness
To their looks,
Their words,
Their beliefs,
Their passions,
Their ends.
Marching in lockstep
To some concocted lore
About superiority and
Unparalleled greatness,
And the wretchedness
Of their enemy,
There always has to be
An enemy to rally against.
Their inner bonfires
Precursors to the
Inevitable conflagration.

Surfing the Web

You, lovely people,
Surfing the web
Late at night,
Or during the day,
Or anytime at all,
For any reason,
On any device,
Rest assured that
We’re taking good
Care of you.
We have a record
Of everything you’re
Doing on there,
And you can trust us
To not use it in
Any weird way.
Please remember we’re
Only doing this for
Your own good,
Because the world is
So scary and we
Have to keep you safe
From our conveniently
Fabricated threats.

Her Own Course

Because of the extraordinary
Pressure she had always felt
To fit in, be one of the group,
Do what was expected of her,
She questioned herself at
Every turn, wondering if her
Sense of direction was broken
While, the whole time,
Her inner compass awaited for
The day she’d decide to
Follow her own course.

Chosen

They see themselves
As the chosen ones,
Which unfortunately
Always seems to mean
That someone else is
Not quite as special.

Thus begins a campaign
To assert their supremacy,
To put others down
In order to buoy their
Own status or sense of
Self-importance.

A never-ending cycle of
Feeling superior and
Fighting rabidly to
Maintain their position
Regardless of how it
Tears up the world.

Vagaries

A sticky web of
Interlaced interests
Colluding to stack
The deck against
Unsuspecting people
Struggling to make it
Day to day, and who
Have no time to dissect
The vagaries and minutiae
Required to gain entry
Into the exclusive club
With the wood-paneled walls
And oversize leather chairs,
Where cigar-smoke-wreathed
Movers and shakers wink
Knowingly at one another
While making absurd deals.

Stifling Classroom

Sitting in a stifling classroom,
Looking out the window,
The occasional visitor
Walking resignedly
Toward the office,
A bird flying by,
Glad it’s not in this
Algebra class,
Reveling in its freedom.
An intense stare confirms that
The clock is barely moving
And that the subject at
Hand is all but unbearable,
Incomprehensible to some minds,
Though nobody seems to care.

Right to Work

Neil is an autoworker
And is clapping joyfully
On election night as
He watches his favorite
Candidate (the one who
Champions Right to Work laws)
Pull ahead in the polls,
The likely winner of a
Hard-fought campaign.
When he takes office,
Auto assembly line workers,
And everyone else,
Will not be able to organize
Against the whims of
Their employers
(The very thing that helped
Build the middle class)
Earn a respectable wage,
Buy a house, a car,
Support a family,
Put a kid through college,
Live with some dignity
Instead of as prey for
An insatiable corporation.