lack of empathy poems

Empathy Is Not Pete’s Forte | Donal Mahoney

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Pete’s never needed
anything from childhood on.
His parents had it all
and gave it to him so it’s hard
for him to understand why
people who have nothing
march with placards in the streets
or sneak into another country
to find enough to eat, a place to live,
and raise and educate a family.

Empathy is not Pete’s forte
and that can happen when
parents give you everything,
send you to the finest schools,
leave you money you can build
a business with, go broke
and still become a billionaire.
Finally you have everything
and life becomes so boring
you decide the time has come
to run for president. Such fun.

More at http://booksonblog12.blogspot.com.

What’s the Matter | Nate Maye

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What’s the matter
he asks
but we know

we have heard him
speak and spill
his insults

guffaw at his own
dark jokes
knowing what is wrong
with this world
is attitudes like that.

Easy Topics | J.K. Durick

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Talk about peace, talk about war
Imagine either, imagine both
That’s easy enough to do
We watch them on television
Watch them discussed
Whenever it suits the speaker
Fits the audience and the time slot
We turn on and off to their tune
Half the world is burning
We watch children crying
Real children crying – half a world
Away from us, not next door
Those children never cry, never die
Never feel the true force of our words
Talk about peace, talk about war
Imagine either, imagine neither
Distance makes it easier – we talk it
Others get to live with what we say.

Suburbia | Guy Farmer

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The number of days
I was awakened from
A peaceful slumber by
The roaring din of
An angry malcontent out
To satisfy only his own
Needs at the expense
Of others’ well-being,
Unable to care for
Anyone, including himself.
A blustering cacophony of
Insecurity,
Barely contained rage,
Immeasurable
Unhappiness,
Typical suburbia.

Turn on Each Other | JD DeHart

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I remember my father’s
hands reaching between snapping
snouts of fighting dogs
and spreading them apart
and I remember the thin
stream of blood spread across
the hairy thatch of his hand
I have seen the snap
and bite and growl of people
and noticed how they treat
their perceived territory
at least the creature
is more honest in its delivery.

LORCA | Stefanie Bennett

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Not even the dream hand
Unknots you. I stretched it out
Never to placate you but
Take the wanton aback.

In your blind state… blind
Of a different kind
I fingered nose, eyes, mouth
And the ear’s sounding tribunal.

Your heart I felt. I wanted
Its telling above others.
The roar it gave forth – worse
Than any air-raid. The manning of guns.

I surmised the pulse of your being
Should be aligned with hollyhocks.
I surmised
A free flighted bird.
I surmised
Storm clouds parted –

But there, on your brow
Something painted
A peal of bells
Where your mind struck five times

Not hours spent, never the dream hand,
Neither my grace or its own
Beguiled wretchedness could impede
What was, or isn’t, there.

He Never Expresses Regret | Bonnie Burka Shannon

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The child will never recover
From you
But life goes on
Doesn’t it
Even though
They shoot horses
Don’t they
Life endures
In a manner
That is hard
To label
You have destroyed
What she believed in
You have policed her life
And the lives
Of others
You tell untruths
Fabricate
Deflect
Blame
Retract and restate
You require
Complete allegiance
While most
Never believed
Or were all deceived
You typify a
Borderline Personality
Not so complicated
After all
Just malevolent
Immoral
And self-absorbed
A true narcissist
You have devastated
What she once
Had faith in
You have regulated her vitality
Tarnished her convictions
Unfastened her life
And the lives
Of others
And you never
Express regret
Or shame

More at http://shannon50.dudaone.com/poetry-by-bonnie.

Blue | Anna Kander

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Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets!

Blue-chip companies take their name from the color of the highest-valued chips at poker tables on October 28, 1929.

(we’re reliable, all-American, safe)

Then comes October 29, 1929: the day the stock markets crash.

Then comes October 30, 2009: me, new to a minimum-wage custodial crew, learning that the most important thing, when you clean the headquarters of a multibillion-dollar corporation, is the executive washroom.

The questions are not: Are floors swept? Are counters and toilets clean?

The real questions are: Is the trash empty, even if there were only three paper towels in the bin?

(they don’t want to see trash)

Did you wipe away any fingerprints left when you opened the shiny chrome stall doors?

(they want you to be invisible)

And, is the water in the toilet bowl a reassuring, disinfectant-blue?

No? We’ve no time. They don’t pay us enough to stay any longer. Night janitors got to hustle to the next job.

Just spritz some blue in there, let’s go.

(they don’t want to see)

(they’ll never know)

More at http://annakander.com.

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