short deep poems

Narrative

Torrential blasts of vitriol,
Lashing out uncontrollably,
Hastily concocted plots,
Unfounded, unreal, unimaginably
Daft, void of all connection to
Reality, conspiracists weaving a
Narrative of suspicion.

After work, a family gathers
To share the evening meal,
Peripherally aware of the
Encroaching clouds,
Talking about the events of the day
The dreams of tomorrow.
A rabble gathers across the street.

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The Questions

He doesn’t feel good
About himself, hasn’t
Come to grips with
Some, if not all, of
The questions that
Keep him from sleeping.
He attaches himself
To promised comfort,
Quells his doubts
By pressuring others
To do the same,
Stumbling together in
Willful ignorance,
Unopened eyes,
Closed hearts.

Plume

Lashing out with great
Vigor and ferocity, memories
Kept covered by a thin
Layer of civility exposed at
The slightest scratch.
Unconscious reactions to
Perceived slights from all
Directions, the outrage of
Memories not forgotten,
Awakened, unaddressed,
Unknown, a plume of
Panic and bewilderment.

The Effect

The whole situation
Was created by people
Who aren’t aware of
Why they think or do
Certain things and
What the effect of
Their thoughts and
Actions is.

What it must be like
To travel through life
Swinging an ax,
Unwilling, unable,
To stop when
Someone, anyone,
Everyone, is
In the way.

In Reality

They no longer talk,
And he concocts
A story that makes
Him look like he
Has no part in the
Conflict when he,
In reality, bears
The brunt of all
His relationship
Failures, a reality
He can’t escape
No matter how hard
He tries.

Jagged Lines

It’s hard to describe
Why he’s so scary,
Something about the
Way he never smiles or
The dead certainty
Of his words,
All jagged lines,
Merciless,
As if nobody ever said
A kind word to him
When it would have
Made a difference.

Culminating

Arriving at a place
Free of contamination;
Anger and recrimination
Fading beyond memory,
A growing sense of peace,
Years of toil culminating
In a single exhalation.

Unforeseen

When he switched careers,
Nobody understood,
Unable to fit him
Into the boxes they had
Previously put him in.
They furrowed their
Brows, perplexed,
Trying to reanimate
A dull static image:
Outdated,
Inaccurate,
Comfortable.
Unable to grasp
The meaning in this
Unforeseen turn of events,
They wander off
To consort with
Their falsities.

Repository

Nothing left for me
To say except for
I wish it had ended sooner.
It wasn’t so much
That you were annoying as
The complete absence of decorum.
Repository of unawareness,
A dimly lit wit
Imposing itself on everyone,
Coughing fit of nonsense,
Gleefully spewed upon us.
I would bet anything
You had no clue it happened,
Habits being what they are,
On to the next offense.