Sad Society Poems - Poems about Sad Society

An old man once said: Freedom isn’t free As a child, I grew up, never understanding those words. As an adult, I learned, the tree of freedom is watered with blood. I thought we had paid enough. But as trees wither without water, so does freedom without its tribute. As such I hoped, we could pay with sweat and duty. But once again-we choose red......

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These days I often find myself lying on my pristine rock, hard bed thinking about why the world would ever care about someone like me. I wonder how my thoughts ever drifted this far. Maybe social media? Or my own self-conceit, brimming with forbidden passions even van Gogh or Picasso couldn't imagine. Yet, I only say that because I can't...

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To whom it may concern; I don't have a memory of being afraid of the dark, from the youngest of age never fearing angels, demons or anything with a spark.  Eight-legged critters seem more like a friend, but anything with a heartbeat and most without, I will always defend.  Some of the worst things people can experience:...

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arrive in an empty hollow building (alone no purpose) arrive in a hollow empty building (alone no purpose) arrive in a purposeless hollow building (alone empty) empty in a lonely building without purpose empty mpty pty ty y ...

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Little Davie wants to pray like a pro Too bad for Davie that he doesn’t know His mentor is a fraud His conduct deeply flawed Every night, to...

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“there are thorns in the glass” the baby exclaims as she points, points, points to the mirror of life, yet no one listens, and she is ignored. “there are thorns in the glass” the child cries, tugging at men’s jackets, grabbing women’s hands, yet she’s pushed away and she is ignored. “there are thorns in the glass” the teen announces, protesting and marching, yelling and telling, and there is no...

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I built my boat up, sawdust in my eyes Love and kindness ingrained since my younger years Now just a pile of wood I built my boat up, my hands aching So it would withstand the storm Now soaked with hate The first fisherman came and said, “I cannot get any fish, may I get your aid?” To which I replied, “Of course,” How...

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How life has changed Simplicity no longer reigns Now a society of ‘look at me’ Lost is self respect and modesty Breasts and bums on display Faces plastered in clay Bodies injected with toxins Natural beauty no longer an option Plastic people with plastic minds Self absorption and vanity combined Every movement captured on phone Posed and poised down to the bone Never present in the here...

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gray sky swallows a surly surface gritty sky smothers a solitary sleepwalker i sit i sit & wait & wait & wait ...

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I write the sadness of the Brazilian forests, About modern centuries and glass cities, Tattooed Indians who are murdered too, For a handle of gold or green diamond, I write the greatness of Brazilian forests Roots that descend to explore the earth, Leaves that capture white light, Suns that fall on the wild jaguar, I write the sadness of the Brazilian forests, Friends...

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The raging fire. A poem by him. I am the raging fire. Smiting the innocent and purging the oxygen. Churning out the black of waste that we have all become. Progress is not what comes anymore. If we needed progress, it would not kill us. If progress was positive I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t...

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I can’t sleep. A poem by him. The days go by like the wind. Though the wind never passes. Wind is a cycle, one that can only be broken by our insolence. I can’t sleep. Not when the evil of I looks back to me in the mirror. Why can’t I see a person? I...

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She searched for Paradise, instead, the road led her to a land of demise. A plague of pain had rolled out on this land, it had spread across, through the evil tongue. She looked around, mainly suppressed souls were found. Silent roars of their sufferings extend for miles, screams were suffocated, behind fabricated smiles. Foul tongues were twisted together, gathered under narcissistic scarves. Sharp words were wounding...

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Once the green land of morning calm and high serenity Soon waved the blood red flag, stained with the false words “We will soon be free” Now a grey, barren mountain swallowed by Yaldabaoth’s sea...

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Prison is more than what meets the eye, Her beauty is more than what meets the eye. I don’t want to be a third wheel, just you and I. No one can type without pressing you and I. Prisoners we all are despite being free. Some might be behind bars, some in bars. I say again prisoners we all are despite...

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