there’s something about
the way she looks
tight face
uncomfortable smile
forced laugh
dead eyes
that betrays all the
things she was put through
a terrible family hazing
she wasn’t ever allowed
to talk about
leading her to
take out all her self-hate
on others
Walking from room to room
In his opulent mansion,
He reflects not on his
Incredible good fortune,
Or what he might do
To help make the world
A better place,
But rather on all those
Who have slighted him and
Whom he will one day make pay
For their transgressions.
Enough is never enough
To fill this cavernous hole.
More minimalist poetry at https://www.unconventionalbeing.com/.
He lets loose by
Becoming tighter,
Wrapping himself in
Ever-thicker coils of
Mangled belief
Desperately trying to erase
The huge shouting faces
Subduing him into
Thinking he’s worthless,
Punitive voices exhorting
Him to crush others
For a moment’s relief.
More minimalist poetry at https://www.unconventionalbeing.com/.
it seems like half the country
has gone mad
as if they don’t realize
that other people
don’t believe what they do
and are just fine
it’s all part of the personality
of individuals who believe
a certain thing and
have to force it on everyone
an insecurity that runs deep
a need to control others
seeing everything as a threat
to their way of life
thinking they’re more real
than those they call others
Always doing something
To annoy someone else
For the sheer pleasure of
Seeing him or her suffer,
A perversion of caring,
Outside reflecting inside strife,
Unable to do anything
But be unpleasant,
A stain that won’t come out.
More minimalist poetry at https://www.unconventionalbeing.com/.
Attracted by sameness and difference
They love each other
He a big 6’3 with orange American skin and a hefty brown wallet
His first name a cartoon character, his last rhyming with funny things
His counterpart a short slight Russian whose name puckers your lips,
Blond, 5’7, a forehead full of KGB
The first a hothead, a fun guy braggadocio
A charismatic liar you either love or hate
The second one severe
A judo black-belt poverty child in love with prisons
Both bullies as children
Bullies as adults
Both experts in the art of manipulation
Both hate the news, hate journalists, despise protests
One a businessman, the other a lawyer
In their respective cities,
They contemplate each other.
The first inside a New York tower,
gold furniture fit for a king
The second inside St. Petersburg
The Venice of the North.
As little boys, they suffered
The Russian so poor it is written that
he chased rats with sticks
The American sent to military school
to fix the unfixable
Across the continents they embrace
Their political arms entwined
Both supported by anxious citizens who look past their flaws,
Hoping for economic security.
More at https://twitter.com/warkitty110.
The weather turns colder
And he brings home the
Yearly pile of logs
He’ll hack into pieces and
Toss into a fire,
Not because he wants to
Gather with his loved ones
Around the hearth,
Not because he needs
The heat to stay warm,
It’s just that he
Only knows how to
Reduce things to ashes.
More minimalist poetry at https://www.unconventionalbeing.com.