Notice - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Notice

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A lovely quiet neighborhood,
Peaceful homes tidily arranged
Around a park. Birds sing,
Bunnies frolic on the grass,
Children giggle, flowers bloom,
Trees whisper, neighbors smile,
The sunshine warms everything
It touches, cheerful relaxing days.

Kindness has not visited one home
In a long while. A stern, agitated,
Vigilant, halting settler, inner voices
Barely contained. Imposing angry
Noises on the calm as was done in
His childhood homes. He couldn’t
Wait to leave, now he pays homage.
Neighbors warily pretend not to notice.

 
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Keep It - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Keep It

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Let’s keep it
The way it’s always been,
Advantage us – scarcity you,
We get all the stuff,
You get meager scraps.
Let’s sit smugly on our porches,
Exchanging phony, chummy banter,
One-upping each other,
Reliving past glories.
Not a trouble-maker in sight,
They’re across the tracks
Where they belong.
Neatly manicured lawns,
Freshly painted homes,
Spurious smiles pasted on
Stiff wax faces,
Underplayed horror stories.

 
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No Matter What Happens - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

No Matter What Happens

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What you have to sell,
They don’t want,
But that doesn’t mean
It has no value,
Just that this is
Not the right audience.
Somewhere out there are
People who appreciate
What you offer.
Remember that,
No matter what happens on
Any particular day,
You’re always wonderful.

 
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Skewed - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Skewed

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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.

Run by Robots - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Run by Robots

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

Presence - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Presence

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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.

Rouse - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Rouse

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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

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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

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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

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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.

Poetry by Guy Farmer