Skewed - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Skewed

Making unilateral decisions
Based on self-serving,
Intentionally, maliciously
Skewed information without
The slightest bit of
Awareness or concern for
Fact or fairness,
A system that prizes
Conformity, obedience.
Dead faces executing orders,
Unconcerned, unfeeling.


 
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Run by Robots - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Run by Robots

Faceless behemoth,
Unaccountable,
Cold, unhelpful,
Unnecessarily complicated,
Lacking even the
Slightest bit of
Compassion,
No hint of humanity,
Run by robots.


 
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Presence - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Presence

Happy family home,
Place of calm and solace.
Verdant yard where
Small children play,
Exploring a world of
Limitless wonder.
Humble parcel of land
Unanticipatedly becomes
Exponentially more valuable for
What rests below it.
New player in town
Swaggers in – unambiguously
Asserts its presence.
No questions allowed,
Genuflect to the will of
The cold-blooded conglomerate.
Pockets to be filled,
People to dispossess.


 
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Rouse - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Rouse

Rage, rage against those who
Don’t threaten you in the least
Except for in fabricated tales
Of conspiracy and apocalypse.

Woe the ills of the world while
Championing those who guarantee
Their perpetuation. Pray for better
Days without committing to them.

Rouse all who will listen.
All is not well. Change is
Desperately needed, as long
As it’s someone else.

Group - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Group

It’s always so great when everyone
In the group falls in line, goes with
The program, follows the rules,
Laughs at the same jokes,
Talks about familiar topics,
Understands the same references.

A group of high school students
Eyeing each other, clamoring to
Be heard, preening, posing, straining to
Get along until one word, a look,
A perception, pierces fragile skin.
Cracks appear, filled with hurts.

Vengeance - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Vengeance

Banished indefinitely,
Sanctioned suffering.
Bloodthirsty do-gooders
Protecting suspect reputations,
Unhinged egos.
Overzealous pursuit,
Blind lust for retribution,
Information manipulation,
Malfeasance rewarded.
Blackout curtains obscuring
Glaring innocence.
Sleazy scam victimizing
The powerless,
Normalized vengeance.

Wails - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Wails

Shadowy miscreants
Pulling strings from
Perches high atop
The oligarchy.
Narrow gnarled psyches
Bent on grabbing everything,
Leaving everyone else
In tatters.
A world birthed by
Utter greed,
Nothing ever enough,
The wails within
Never satiated,
Smoldering ruins of
Entire civilizations
Left behind.

Opportunity - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Opportunity

A kind gesture, friendly hello,
Warm greetings, fond memories
Shared, messages exchanged.
Implicit, comfortable trust renewed.

A unique opportunity to translate
Goodwill into cash, awkwardly
Project, ascribe meaning, sell.
A devalued person, a commodity,
To be used.

Clamoring - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Clamoring

Fetid stream of
Derogatory remarks,
One foul mouth
Maligning many.

Sullied brain,
Inculcated intolerance,
Grafted onto psyche,
Unbreakable permanent bond.

Legions sympathetic,
Howling viscerally,
Defending the untenable,
Scant of reason.

A rabble roused,
Self-perpetuating,
Clamoring for more
Gratuitous carnage.

Saint-Tropez - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Saint-Tropez

Show me how much I matter.
Limit my ability to keep the
Lights on in my home, pay the
Rent. Encourage me to work long
Hours and celebrate holidays on the job.
Tick tock, doesn’t matter when
You’re on the clock. Keep my
Hours below the magic line.
I’m disorganized, overwhelmed, docile.

Tell me that I’m on my own when I fall ill,
Talk up the local public clinic. My new
Stamp collection will keep me and
My children floating in cheese and milk.

Cursed freeloaders impeding the
Extra wing of the seventh mansion,
Four-hundredth shoe. Vacation time forfeited,
You never know who’s in the wings ready to
Take your place.
I hear Saint-Tropez is beautiful this time of year.

Poetry by Guy Farmer