Rage

Rage

Quiet disquiet deep in the pit of my stomach.

My face is stone, my voice is level

but I feel the trembling circuits

sparking on the insides of my elbows.

My hands feel empty, weightless.

An easy uneasiness that makes

my stomach feel queasy and sick.

My hands want to clasp

the weight of a punch

My lips want to form

the words that will cut

deep to bone.

I want to hurt- and because it is against my nature-

it hurts me instead.

authors note: It is really against my nature to be angry. You probably wouldn't guess it from some of the poems I have posted, but poetry really is an outlet for me so that I am NOT angry in my real life. This little number was written back in 2008 when I was working as an ISS supervisor in MT. There was this one kid who knew just what buttons to push and he took such delight in pushing them. Fortunately, with a few calming breaths and this poem, he escaped with his life and very little visual reaction from yours truly. 

Victoria

Victoria

A sidelong glance

and I want to stab your eye out-

just the one-

swiveled toward me

glossy and pale.

'02

(Ya Victoria was a girl in one of my poetry classes who say in front of me. She was a real stuck up witch- and whenever I contributed my opinions or thoughts she'd turn halfway in her seat and give me this look... I hated it... ha ha... a rare moment of white hot rage on my part.... lol)

Anger

That hollow anger again like a cold wind in the back of my throat
And the feeling of trembling weakness at the elbows
My heart races…

I breathe again
And it passes.

Hostility is excellent fodder for poetry

To my own - unnamed nemisis

Envy. That old ugly dog comes wandering around my door again-
And although I shout for it to leave
it has curled up at my feet.

And as much as I recoil at the smell of wet fur and rotten breath-
I nurse the mutt, scratching behind its ears.

Such a waste of energy. I know.
But still, it is easier to feed it than it is to chase it away.

Your name isn't up in lights yet-
I know, I've googled you-

My name- generic as it is,
is everywhere- but not my face
or my words

just a thousand other "me"s
struggling to be the one that makes the name ring familiar.

It's not the fame I'm after-
I just want to catch a ride into the future
before you

But instead I give the dog a bone.

Bantam

Bantam

One would assume you named yourself-
you are the Best, after all.

And it’s not the weight of your words
so much as the sheer volume of them;

page after page of scrawl,
angst and arrogance.

I have learned a lot from you,
of my own weakness

more than your greatness,
but we take the lessons where we can.

Swaggering, saggy pants, spiky hair;
you are the bantam

Alike in shape and form,
but you’ll never be the rooster.


Authors note: Nothing like a little friendly poetic rivalry. I used to day dream that we'd be side by side in future text books- This guy was such a SUPER talented poet and most of the rivalry was completely one sided (on my part) but I hated how COCKY he was... so this was a play on that.)

Comments/ Critique welcomed!

Ode to An agnostic that I Was Once Related To

For one who claims to be so FREE of religion
you are more OBSESSED about it
than those who you scorn for their belief.

Those of us, who remain for our own reasons
don't even talk about it as much as you do

It seems as though you're more involved NOW
than you ever were before.

Now, that's IRONIC.... since we're on the subject.