Minimalist Free Verse Poems about the Human Condition

Inconsequential - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Inconsequential

A cluster of cubicles girdling
Many dreams. Methodical, mechanical,
Ordered, contained, managed
Minds focused on the completion of
Dire duties, sublimated creativity.

A voyage, perhaps to some beautiful
Destination unblemished by rules or rigidity.
Potential unfettered, possibilities
Countless. Roam wherever, whenever,
Destination unconsidered, inconsequential.

Vigil - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Vigil

He still remembers it
Vividly, painfully.
Overt slights,
Disregard for his opinion,
Domineering imposition,
Unnecessary fighting
In the midst of a
Horrible situation.
Feeble, broken people
Hobbling around anxiously,
Making each others’
Lives miserable as
They stand vigil.

Lofty Words - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Lofty Words

Lofty words about
Compassion and love
Give way to more
Mundane needs for
Company and belonging,
Deeper desires for
Control and power.
They gather together
And talk about
Being good people,
Doing good deeds,
But there’s always
That bit about
Being the chosen ones
Or excluding others
For not being
Like them.
Inequality promoted
In congregation.

Unsolicited - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Unsolicited

Every time the phone rang I’d
Get an anxious, uncomfortable,
Crawling feeling because I knew
What was on the other end.

Syrupy sweet platitudes and
Depressingly shallow exchanges
About nothing in particular and of
Excruciatingly little interest to me.

Gritting my teeth, rubbing my temples
To pacify the misery, hoping this
Would be the last time I’d have to
Deal with this unsolicited dross.

Non-Issue - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Non-Issue

A wealthy gentleman
Peevishly questions the cost of
Funding public education,
Or helping the poor,
Not satisfied that
These are things that should
Lighten his pockets (As he
Has to make sure his
Heirs will have extravagant
Money and power for
The next several-hundred years).

Another affluent individual
Looks at the figures
And understands that,
In a civilized society,
It costs money to educate
Children and care for
The elderly, a non-issue
For anyone who cares,
He knows his own well-being
Depends on others being able
To succeed as well.

Folly - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Folly

Another explosion
Rocks the building.
He huddles against
His mother’s side,
Feeling her rapid breaths
As she clutches him
Tightly to her.

Perpetual war has
Altered their expressions,
Etching permanent lines
Of fear and resignation
On formerly bright faces,
Innocence besmirched by
Diseased politicians.

She remembers her mother’s
Words, warning of unsound
Men unable to settle
Their differences
Resorting to fighting,
The eternal folly of
Insecure minds.

Why Bother - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Why Bother

How can you learn anything
Without the insight that
Something needs to be learned.
No reason to try anything new
When you have the courage of
Your convictions and assumptions
Propping you up. Why bother
Expanding your mind when things
Are already arranged in neat,
Undisturbed rows covered in the
Dust of disuse. What a mess it
Would be to even begin airing this
Place out. Why even start.

Acceptable - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Acceptable

At a lunch gathering
With some close friends,
She strenuously insists
That she’s not a feminist,
Then talks passionately
About how women should
Be paid the same as men
And how there shouldn’t be
A glass ceiling or any type of
Discrimination against
Anyone based on gender.
Everyone should have
The same rights, she says
To herself, remembering the
Occasions when leering,
Incompetent people
Made her life difficult
Just because it was
Socially acceptable.
She wants to make sure that
Her daughters have an easier
Time than she did.

Unexamination - Process Your Anger about the Human Condition

Unexamination

Recalcitrant, obstinate, obdurate,
Contemptuous. Outwardly aggressive,
Inwardly cowering, the dull throb of
Insecurity never loosens its grip.
Never give, never cede. Resist.
Impose, defy, defile, destroy.

Conquer every inch of ground with
Merciless fury, vehement ardor.
Happiness beckons from the other side.
Nothing beats the intoxicating
Perfume of Pyrrhic victory, unhealed
Wounds, torpid unexamination.

Poetry by Guy Farmer