Alienation Poems

Alive, But Gone

I love you both with all my heart,
But Mum, you tore that love apart.
You made me choose, you made me cry,
While Dad was left to wonder why.

You spoke of him with poisoned tongue,
Bad words for ears still far too young.
You painted him in shades of wrong,
And made me feel I don’t belong.

He wasn’t perfect, neither

The Trial

Pacing in an empty room,
I'm sick, and tired of fighting
This unyielding evil
Who makes his case
To torment our family

And as the minutes turn to hours,
I feel the force of cruel waves
Crashing against the guiltless shore,
As he tries to drown
The truth in lies

And so I say a silent prayer,
Hoping against hope
For an end
To an endless storm

I pray

A chain ended

At daggers drawn with no discharge in animosity 
Berated and mocked regardless of my actions or intentions 
Cant take much more, hell I'm 27
"Dont take it mate", bite that bullet
Everything i hoped, friendship, closeness
Fond memories few and far between 
Granted, i was not abused or physically neglected 
Had it all, school trips, gadgets, want for

The Wanderer, Part I, translation of the ancient Anglo-Saxon poem

The Wyrdes were like the Fates, controlling human destinies.

The Wanderer
ancient Anglo-Saxon poem
translation by Michael R. Burch

“The one who wanders alone
longs for mercy, longs for grace,
knowing he must yet traverse
the whale-path’s rime-cold waters,
stirring the waves with his hands & oars,
heartsick & troubled in spirit,
always bending his back to his exile-ways.”

“Fate is inexorable.”

Thus spoke the wanderer, mindful

Aftermath

a robin chirping near the window 
serves up a delicious bit of melancholy

on the living room floor an air mattress 
quietly cajoles my sciatic nerve

this place, this home, this abode the result 
of a thirty year 'bout with the devil

at an old card table that might not survive 
a battered folding chair my unlikely throne

Catcher in the Rye

The catcher in the rye
I go and drop the ball
I lay it down and cry
I’m sleeping in the stall
Cause everyone is phony
Your company is lonely
Your animals are bony
Your everything is only

I’m underneath the bridge
Below the overpass
I’m locked inside the fridge
I’m sleeping in the grass
Cause everyone is faking
Every excuse for bailing
Your  painted skin is flaking
Success

Standing Still

It's not a stillness, really,
but the noise fading into something else.
I am the forgotten beat in the rush, 
the space between clashing symbols, 
drowned out but unbroken.

They circle around me,
a frenzy of flashes, 
their words sparks,
their bodies electric with purpose - 
all moving, all wanting,
but I am the breath between their sighs.

I don't belong to

Production machines

Efficiency, anxiety
Result, vanity
Success, burnout

Alienation, disguise
Unconscious, relapse
Control, coact
Apologist: own merit!

Arbitrary, reclusive
Circus, bread
Conscious, blurred
Acceptance.

Commotion, trivialization
Affection, weakness
Love, liquid
Affliction, medication

People can no longer
Human beings.

- Bruna Beatrice.

Long Man

I can’t fit inside this lock
I can’t fit inside this sock 
This hole is not meant for me
Body stretching out from me
Out of sync 
Misshapen link
Wash the ink out in the sink
You went day and I went night
I went left and you went right
And everything just looks so wrong
I don’t understand this song 
I am

Parental Alienation, An Anguished Father

A silent storm rages...it rages in his heart,  
He watches his child being pulled apart.  
As she whispers poison again in the ear, 
His child drifts away, with doubt and fear.  

Tears of anguish, a silent cry...
...he feels however hard he may try,
The judge there might turn a deaf ear to him,
Though

The Same Window

She sinks into her threadbare cushion
on the aged-old rocker she huddles in daily
placing her thin-skinned arms
cold to the touch upon the arm rail
darkened from the oil of her skin

Creaks and moans play a tedious rhythmic song
from loosed screws holding the oak rockers
that roll over the rutted floor back and forth
her feet pushing off an upswept

Alienation Underground

An old world united.
Attributes not known from the peace we campaigned.
Enforced into an unknown war we currently endeavour. 
Utmost bower bird tactics, the uninvited dominantly proceed
From above, streams vibrations throughout every sense of our actualities.   
Days follow nights accompanying collective conceptualisations.
Wanting correlative wants with downhearted, optimistic, realism. 
Will I again feel wind or

Cauldrons

Thrice about the cauldron go
and answer me, if it be known.

Untie the words and give them form,
dissect the ingredients of murder’s charm.

A new tradition has traction gained,
a tradition of alienated masculine pain.

Where insults demand their due in blood
in schools, in stores, and quiet neighborhoods.

Bad Blood

the hole in the street
is a gaping wound
it’s been here
for two months
now
the walls in the house
groan and ache
as the front yard
hides in shadows
the night is an ocean
set in front of me
while sitting at my laptop
i hear a pattering sound
i open the door
and look outside
to see there’s no rain
but restless crickets sing
a street light flickers
dead stars
the

Alienation

Let's have a conversation
morning greeting once
a favor hug
Without
As a neighbour
We Live
for over 10 Years
no fault of each other.

• Short Alienation Poems
• Famous Alienation Poems
• Best Alienation Poems
• Read Alienation Poems
• Long Alienation Poems
• Alienation Quotes