poems about society

Forever Fail

I will forever fail to see
Why it’s a good idea for a
Civilized society to
Starve children,
Teach them some kind of
Exceedingly cruel and
Unnecessary lesson about
So-called personal responsibility
When their plight is
No fault of their own and
The deck is already so stacked
Against them that they
Realistically have very
Little chance of making it,
Even with superhuman initiative,
No matter what the louses
Condemning them to poverty say.

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In-Between

The stores that
Used to be frequented
By the middle class
Are dying at the
Same time malls close
For lack of visitors.
The luxury emporiums
Thrive as do the
Discount retailers,
Little in-between.

How Societies Die

I guess some people
Think it’s okay
To shame a child for
Not having money to
Pay for food,
A particularly
Reprehensible
Form of cruelty that
Never leads to
Anything but
Suffering.
This is how
Societies die.

Curfew

I’m not sure I fully
Understand why certain
People feel compelled to
Force their beliefs on others,
Insisting their way of
Looking at the world is best,
Censoring other perspectives,
Imposing curfew on divergent
Ideas that don’t fit
Their narrow outlook,
Forcing human beings into
Confining boxes,
Deeply uncomfortable with
Ambiguity and uncertainty,
Condemning anyone who isn’t
Like them, immersed in
Fear and judgment,
Even though it doesn’t
Have to be this way.

Conventional Obsession

If you look underneath
The false premises and
Sleazy justifications,
You’ll find the conventional
Obsession with putting
Women down because it
Makes small men feel more
Important, far easier
To step on someone than to
Share the world with them or
Go against your father who
Taught you insecurity and the
Fear of being exposed.

Lily Walks Home

Stepping off the bus,
Lily walks home
Past rusting cars,
Graffiti-covered walls,
Shuttered storefronts,
Garbage-strewn gutters,
To the doorway of
Her bleak building
Where there’s never a
Moment’s peace in the
Small apartment
She lives in.

Heirs to the Throne

Some will admit it or
Reveal themselves through
Coarse comments or actions,
Others keep it under wraps
Unless they’re around
Their peers, in which case
It’s a free for all of
Jovial denigration.
Underneath it all
The thing they’ve been told
Their entire lives,
That they’re the rightful
Heirs to the throne.

Intention

It’s one thing
To oppose everything
And build your entire
Reason for being on
The premise that you’re
There to block the
Fabricated malfeasance of
An empirically well-meaning
Leader, but quite another
To find yourself in
Charge of things and
Prove beyond a shadow of
A doubt that you never
Knew how to govern or
Even had that intention.

Not Much

Not much is happening
Now in this little town
Left behind by people
Who moved on when they
Had extracted everything.
Gary walks past the
Old plant, reminiscing
About he and his friends
Trading barbs while they
Assembled machines that
Made things happen.
All sense of purpose gone,
Nothing left but
Bewilderment,
Nobody listening.