Social Justice Poetry

heartless politicians poems

A Familiar Truth | A Social Justice Poem by Gil Hoy

For so long as the NRA
controls Congress

With its pumping


Corrupting souls
Buying silence

Innocents will
continue to die

From high-powered
Weapons of War

Bought in America
like a bag of groceries
from a grocery store

While Wayne LaPierre
Scribbles his want list
for Republican

Bought and sold
baby-kissers counting
their bankroll gore.

If Congress had lead balls
in its hearts, brains

If images of dead
school children grew
so palpable, so intimate

That their fever
opened a passageway

To eternity and back
Would the madness
Stop then?

Would lone wolves
Still sing their rancid
Noteless songs

A Witch’s Brew of shrill
staccato tempo

Pigeons intheblinkofaneye

That numbed ears
don’t see anymore

That tastes forgotten
and too familiar

The Affair | A Social Justice Poem by Shelly Blankman

You’re in bed with the NRA,
shades drawn, door locked,
no one can hear, no one can see,
but we all know it’s lust that drives you.

Dollar signs glow like gold as you gaze
in their eyes, entangled in covers, flushed
in their web of deceit, blinded with promises
of cash with your tricks.

Your web spreads past the walls of your
tryst, where schoolkids are killed
while you’re getting paid and dams of tears
burst while you seal the deal.
Blasts of gunfire by the mentally ill
still ring out like some sick New Year’s
welcome as you toast your new flame
with wine the color of blood.

I Had a Nightmare Last Night | A Social Justice Poem by Gil Hoy

I had a nightmare last night,
A nightmare deeply rooted
in an American nightmare.

Where churches and schools,
theaters and city streets
were dying.

Where military weapons
were firing into unsuspecting
innocent crowds

pigeons intheblinkofaneye.

I awoke in a terrified sweat
as bleeding children wailed
and cried and screamed.

While those to protect us tasked
slept soundly in their beds.

A nightmare deeply rooted
in an American nightmare,

I had a nightmare last night.

A Neuter Nation | A Social Justice Poem by Oladimeji Luqman (Sanguine)

But there is a name we can earn a child
Born with the fluidic cells of deceit.
He is a body of knitted brows
That has grown into piqued poetry.
He could be called a neuter nation
Whose identity and intuition is drowned in an eddy of putrid
That its history becomes only a loud hiss of story!
I welcome a vacancy into the homes of some two;
You that sit on the lounger of power
Upholstered with selfishness and carelessness,
You become the best pronunciation of wickedness.
Are you still not pleased with the nakedness you wrap
around your nation?
Friend, you are red.
You hold a colony of anger, which you cannot lead,
And hope in you is a burning wick of lifelessness.
Would you clothe, first, the nation in your home,
And blot your anger with active participation?
Move with the strong beat of governance.
Or does it not take two, still, to tango?