Social Justice Poetry

corrupt politicians poems

Peddlers | A Social Justice Poem by Guy Farmer

Mendacious malefactors
Gleefully ditching integrity
For fistfuls of cash
Diverted to secret accounts.
Terrifying the rubes,
Making them look the other way
While separating them
From what little they
Still clutch.
Venal peddlers of untruth
Wrapped in mantles of righteousness
Threatening to blow up
The whole thing if they
Don’t get their way.
Predictably oppressive regime
Bent on absolute power and control,
Simpletons demolishing honor
In the name of personal gain.
Malevolent farce masking
Complete incompetence,
Merciless extortion.

The Dream Thieves | A Social Justice Poem by Neil Creighton

In sleep I saw a House of Dreams,
golden doors open wide,
liberty written on its walls,
equality glowing inside.

Then came the smiling thieves
in tailored suits and ties,
deceitful intent glibly oiled
by their well practised lies.

Inside, they plundered all its treasure,
stripped all the jewelled beams,
carried away the golden orbs
that lit the House of Dreams.

They left the merest appearance,
a painted, empty facade,
and everything that they spewed out
was stained deceptive fraud.

I awoke drenched and shivering
from the horror I had seen,
blood now oozing through the door
of the ruined House of Dreams.

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The Ghosts on Our Backs | A Social Justice Poem by Jonathan Otamere Endurance

There are ghosts holding on to our backs,
Stalking our feet with the traces of bleeding memories,
Unmaking laughter out of the jaws that yelled
For “Change” the day
We tucked a lesser evil into our hearts.
Father said they are emblems of unfulfilled promises
Eating our remains
Like vultures preying on fresh delicacy.
Mother whispered sweet tidings into our ears –
When you see a ghost in your dream,
Peel off the flesh of your back,
Stab your feet on the eyes of its shadow
For it wouldn’t come haunting you again;
These ghosts are totems of unpaid promises.

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Whitehouse Wizards | A Social Justice Poem by Langley Shazor

Magicians weave spellbinding tales
Captivating onlookers
Shifting perspectives
Mesmerizing our eyes while holding our breath
This sleight of hand
Grants us permission to assume we have it solved
All the while
Moving us in the opposite direction
These sorcerers keep us confused
With mythically mystical abilities
We are held prisoner under their trance
Confined to a reality they create
Our lifeless avatars
Sway with the wave of a palm
The truth is never revealed
Such proper illusionists

Elect | A Social Justice Poem by John L. Stanizzi

The air has mass. We breathe in a thickness
made weighty by the acicular words
that roil and topple, and the black rags of
loathing snap, and multitudes of wretched
screaming mouths wrest what light there was from the
eyes of the hopeful, wrapping it in hate,
in sotted shadows, dimity nylon
masks that stretch over fear and anger, the
noses bent and twisted, recognition
vanished, a horrid molding of neighbors’
faces into gnarled and grim phantasms
tumbling like Frost’s magnified apples, the
rumble of discontentment, and whatever
trepidation I must overcome I
can’t name, though each sense seems lined with despair.

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