Social Justice Poetry

hurt people poems

Why We Hurt Each Other | A Social Justice Poem by Guy Farmer

He has no interest in
Why we hurt each other
Because that would mean
Having to relive the
Terrifying memories that
Take up so much space
Inside him and never
Permit a moment’s peace.
He’s chosen instead to
Project his pain onto
Others, to make them the
Object of his fear and
Brokenness, subdue them
So he might feel a moment’s
Respite from the turmoil,
Instead of getting help and
Learning how to love again.

Bromance | A Social Justice Poem by Eliza Mimski

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.

Visit Eliza at https://twitter.com/warkitty110.

Repercussions | A Social Justice Poem by Guy Farmer

At a certain age,
He found out that
One of the benefits of
Living in a free society
Was being able to express
His views about absolutely
Any subject, regardless of
Whether he knew what he was
Talking about or was aware
In any way of the unpleasant
Repercussions of his beliefs,
Whether they would ravage
The very freedom he professed
To love so much or relegate
Certain people to second-class
Status, he really could not
Have cared less, all he truly
Was ever concerned about was
Getting back at someone.