Most read ▸
Instigation
time to rise up
we are not rusted
we need no one but one another
we are match-thin like the truth
Poems on the topic: people
Poems on the topic “people” on Poets.by.
Truisms
lock and own
to lack is a sin
a dull people are a content people
at all the papers
Handshook
I see people as light
rich with use
but they are not
and I do not accept that
not knowing any
so I believe our hands
meeting
present
being us
Different
among so many people
I cannot do without
people of different discourse to hear
as rain and wind
my lodgings open to the light
and the black land
Independence Day
Remembering a time in my life when I still found people interesting and believed in the future. I think I’m happier now that I have no particular expectations.
once again
finding my fly unzipped
Pants On Fire
one day people will step back to look at me
and realize that everything they
thought they knew
were handcrafted lies
Words to me
I could easily relapse.
But I won't.
At least I think.
The urge is unbearable.
Just tear through the skin.
No one cares if you're here.
You're not important.
You don't deserve sympathy.
But I can't be a coward.
Everyone else can do it on their own, why can't I?
Why is it so hard for me to just accept that I'm alone?
On this earth filled with billions of people, I'm no one's number one.
And I never have been.
It's really not that hard of a concept.
Just business
I am nothing.
Cold.
Useless.
Invisible.
Above watered
Surfaces I float.
Saturated
In tiny specks
That lie under
Me as I devote
All my wasted energy
On: people,
Projects I abhore.
When I cut off: all the
Necessary
People,
The People
The ants are walking under the ground,
And the pigeons are flying over the steeple,
And in between are the people.
Submergence
When along the pavement,
Palpitating flames of life,
People flicker round me,
I forget my bereavement,
The gap in the great constellation,
The place where a star used to be.
Nay, though the pole-star
Is blown out like a candle,
And all the heavens are wandering in disarray,
Yet when pleiads of people are
Deployed around me, and I see
The street's long outstretched Milky Way,
When people flicker down the pavement,
I forget my bereavement.
My People
My people are gray,
pigeon gray, dawn gray, storm gray.
I call them beautiful,
and I wonder where they are going.
Cartoon
I AM making a Cartoon of a Woman. She is the People.
She is the Great Dirty Mother.
And Many Children hang on her Apron, crawl at her
Feet, snuggle at her Breasts.
Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem
Or try: