Not From This Anger

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Not from this anger, anticlimax after
Refusal struck her loin and the lame flower
Bent like a beast to lap the singular floods
In a land strapped by hunger
Shall she receive a bellyful of weeds
And bear those tendril hands I touch across
The agonized, two seas.
Behind my head a square of sky sags over
The circular smile tossed from lover to lover
And the golden ball spins out of the skies;
Not from this anger after
Refusal struck like a bell under water
Shall her smile breed that mouth, behind the mirror,
That burns along my eyes.

Anger And Patience

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Any time I don’t understand something
Or feel unhappy with the way things are going,
Anger steps up, ‘use me; let me help’
And I used to give Anger a lot of free rein,
Till I noticed Anger wasn’t all that useful
And generally tended to only make things worse.

Now I try to rely more on ‘Patience’
As Patience doesn’t keep clicking that counter,
Adding up every resentment of the hour.
Besides, I can look straight into Patience’s face
And not have one clue what Patience is thinking of.
You know, Anger could learn something from that.

Portrait Of A Figure Near Water

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Rebuked, she turned and ran
uphill to the barn. Anger, the inner
arsonist, held a match to her brain.
She observed her life: against her will
it survived the unwavering flame.

The barn was empty of animals.
Only a swallow tilted
near the beams, and bats
hung from the rafters
the roof sagged between.

Her breath became steady
where, years past, the farmer cooled
the big tin amphoræ of milk.
The stone trough was still
filled with water: she watched it
and received its calm.

So it is when we retreat in anger:
we think we burn alone
and there is no balm.
Then water enters, though it makes
no sound.

ANGER

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anger is not love
anger is drinking
anger is killing someone
anger one thing never do
love, anger love not anger
anger is ramming you head through a glass door

when your are man you do stupid things
stupid things that are stupid
when mad you don’t feel nothing
anger we all have
anger you cant change

when mad stays
stay away from everyone
anger can kill because you do stupid things
when mad sleep
anger just anger

Anger Inside

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this anger burns deep within,
every minute the fire burns brighter,
time is ticking,
waiting to see who will be on the other side of this raging flame,
waiting to see what will happen to people who mess with me,
this fire is on raging so hot i cannot put it out,
only in your preasence does it fade away,
the lines in my heart break me,
the fires take me,
time can only tell what this great anger will cause me to do next,
even the best,
are no better than the rest,
you can wish for it to disapear all you like,
but nothing you try,
will even compare to the firery anger and deep dispair,
this anger inside me died today,
for i died with it,
it was controling me,
had me under a spell,
nows the time to,
with compell,
to release it into the pits of hell where it came from..

Sapphics Against Anger

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Angered, may I be near a glass of water;
May my first impulse be to think of Silence,
Its deities (who are they? do, in fact, they
Exist? etc.).

May I recall what Aristotle says of
The subject: to give vent to rage is not to
Release it but to be increasingly prone
To its incursions.

May I imagine being in the Inferno,
Hearing it asked: “Virgilio mio, who’s
That sulking with Achilles there?” and hearing
Virgil say: “Dante,

That fellow, at the slightest provocation,
Slammed phone receivers down, and waved his arms like
A madman. What Attila did to Europe,
What Genghis Khan did

To Asia, that poor dope did to his marriage.”
May I, that is, put learning to good purpose,
Mindful that melancholy is a sin, though
Stylish at present.

Better than rage is the post-dinner quiet,
The sink’s warm turbulence, the streaming platters,
The suds rehearsing down the drain in spirals
In the last rinsing.

For what is, after all, the good life save that
Conducted thoughtfully, and what is passion
If not the holiest of powers, sustaining
Only if mastered.

Anger And Me

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Anger is a form of fear
Anger is what I’m waiting to hear
Anger is deep down inside me
Anger drives me crazy
Anger is what turns me on
Anger is what turns me off
Anger is my enemy
Anger is my pal
Anger is gonna kill me
Anger is gonna save me
Anger might just help me
Find my true love………….
……………………..Ma ybe?

Constance Hately

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You praise my self-sacrifice, Spoon River,
In rearing Irene and Mary,
Orphans of my older sister!
And you censure Irene and Mary
For their contempt of me!
But praise not my self-sacrifice,
And censure not their contempt;
I reared them, I cared for them, true enough!–
But I poisoned my benefactions
With constant reminders of their dependence.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

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Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Anger Feeds Upon Itself

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Anger is a virus
That needs not even air
To propagate contagion
Whenever it is shared.

Anger can’t be placed in quarantine
To contain its vicious spread
For anger feeds upon itself
And burns a flaming red.

Anger is all consuming
Anger does not desist
From destroying sensibilites
In that haze of its red mist.

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