Part of It
The room was
Buzzing with energy,
People smiling and
Laughing, sharing
Anecdotes, exchanging
Business cards,
Having a cocktail or two.
He stood in the
Middle of the action,
Pretending to be
Part of it.
Protecting
Entrusted with the
Power of the pen,
He routinely, passionately
Persecutes the poor and
Disenfranchised, focusing
With white-hot, laser-like
Intensity on the innate
Shortcomings of the indigent,
Emphatically insisting that
These things must be pointed out;
A sentinel of truth and justice
Conveniently overlooking the
Trespasses of the group
He identifies with,
Protecting the perpetrators.
So Perfect
Ugly self-righteousness,
The arrogance of alleging
He knows more than anyone
Else and is so perfect that
He has the right to impose
His beliefs and values on
Everyone else because,
After all, nobody’s opinion
Matters more than his own.
He smiles smugly,
A shining example of a
Mind deluded by its own
Inner instability.
Leaving the Darkness
She endured
So many years
Isolated from
Others, living
An anonymous life
Where no one knew
About her loves,
Her joys, her talents,
Her aspirations.
A single trip to
A distant city
Opens her eyes,
Her heart,
Her ambition to
Live, love, thrive
Out in the light,
Leaving the darkness
Far behind.
Some Connection
At some point it
Becomes an exercise in
Trying not to become jaded,
To avoid thinking that she’s
Seen it all or knows what’s
Happening before she
Takes it in, moving gingerly
To maintain her humanity,
Some connection to what
Really means something.
How To
How to describe
How dirty I feel
When I’m forced to
Have any kind of
Contact with you.
How to let you know
That the mere thought
Of you repulses me
And racks me with
Overwhelming sadness.
How to get you
Out of my life,
Away from me,
So I don’t have to
Deal with this.
How to keep wishing
That you would
See what’s going on
Instead of
Stepping on me.
Cede
To capitulate would mean
Nothing short of annihilation,
Calling into question his
Virility and fortitude,
His ability to be in control
Of everything, prancing
Bravado, a huffing, puffing
Maelstrom of toxic ego and
Rampant insecurity
Unable to cede anything
For any reason.
Removed
An acquaintance from
Many years ago,
Some professional context,
Pleasantries exchanged
In the civil respectful tone
Of imposed interaction,
Superficial conversation of
No particular consequence,
A lingering unease.
Making the eventual mistake of
Connecting on social media,
To be cordial,
Dismayed, saddened, at seeing
How much she fears and hates
People who aren’t like her,
A distant contact becomes
Even more removed.
Debris
Avarice clouds
Judgment.
The innocent
Fall by the wayside.
A cloud of mendacity.
Piles of refuse and debris.
The remains of
Many before who
Succumbed to the whims of
Meager, broken minds.
Sense
Faced with
Impossible
Choices,
They make
One that
They hope
Will be the
Least painful.
Sometimes there
Isn’t an easy answer,
But there is
An opportunity to
Hopefully draw upon
An inner sense
Of decency and
Compassion.