Guy Farmer

Before - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Before

Outside a warehouse building
In a tattered part of town,
They line up waiting for
Their bags of food,
Children in tow.

A year ago they would have
Laughed at the idea that
They’d be here with
All the people they
Used to ridicule.

Now they’re part of it,
But looking forward to the
Day when they can go back
To exactly who they
Were before.


 
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Winners and Losers - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Winners and Losers

Sitting in an air-conditioned office,
Pressed suit, expensive watch,
Latest eyeglass frames,
Perusing the Internet
On an advanced computer.

This morning he drove
From his plush apartment
On a swanky street
Where doormen greet residents
And keep the riffraff out.

Exiting the building for lunch,
He talks animatedly to
His cronies about
His latest theory on
Winners and losers.


 
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Generally - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Generally

He’s a generally caring guy,
Has even been known to do
Kind things for people whom
He doesn’t even know.

He’s got a steady moral compass,
Treats people the way
He would like to be treated,
And smiles at others on the street.

The veneer of civility starts
Cracking whenever something happens
That arouses latent passions,
Hidden presumptions.

Rapid metamorphosis
From mild and affable
To unfeeling, unforgiving,
His true self awakened.


 
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Takers - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Takers

He possesses
Little wealth,
But an overabundance
Of zeal and
Energy which he
Avidly channels into
Advocating against causes
That help the poor,
The disenfranchised,
The vulnerable;
Deriving great satisfaction
From depriving children
Of a meal, a bed,
Human dignity.
“Takers,”
He hisses as he
Deposits his
Disability check.

Money Matters - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Money Matters

With the illegal
Installation of
The regime came
An unrelenting
Wave of avarice
That destroyed
Everything
In its path.
A vicious gutting
Of the middle class
With extreme prejudice.
There’s a hierarchy
That needs to be
Preserved here.
Infected mantra,
Regardless of
The situation,
Money matters
More than people.

Din - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Din

A cacophonous din
Arises, obscuring
The obvious fact that
Someone else’s rights
Have been horribly
Infringed upon.

Manufactured outrage,
Grab the pitchforks
And storm the castle,
Preserve the privilege
Of the people who
Least deserve it.

Smug - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Smug

Continuous loop of
Intentional untruths,
Slickly packaged
Obfuscation.

Constant stream of
Hatred, bigotry.
Extreme bias peddled
As normal.

A slow poisoning
Of the environment,
Progress grinding
To a standstill.

Smug, detached,
Filth-spewing mannequins,
Their masters
Absconding with the money.

Mediocrity and Dysfunction - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Mediocrity and Dysfunction

August chambers
Populated by zombies
Driven by their
Lust for power.

Decisions motivated
Not by compassion
Or principle, but by
Opportunism and greed.

When the only goal
Is retention of power,
The natural outcome is
Mediocrity and dysfunction.

Blocking - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Blocking

Gradual progression
Toward greater humanity,
Compassion, kept from
Developing by a fiercely
Determined subset who
Resist any change,
All change,
In any form,
For any reason,
In perpetuity.
Blocking every attempt
To make the world a
Softer place that
Takes care of
Its inhabitants.
Chanting twisted slogans,
Dog eat dog,
Survival of the fittest,
Self-sufficiency,
Rallying cries of
The self-interested.

Shell - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Shell

His life
Expendable,
Skin color
Being a determinant
Factor in assessing
The lack of value of a
Human being.

Death sentence
Delivered by a shell of
A person,
Images of his father
Shouting at him
Playing on a never-ending
Loop in his head.

Shrug it off,
Fabricate some middle school
Quality explanation of
What happened,
Those predisposed will
Buy it, he did what
He had to do.

Poetry by Guy Farmer