Archive for anger

Bill Of Goods

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on September 20, 2016 by beautifulimposter

A landscape of scarred pew backs
Faded under used up onion skin sunlight
Sweat and salivation
Something hungry and panting lustful
Beneath linen suit and tie,
Hollowed out eyes glinting feverish bright
The cut and fit slim difference
Between any other carnival barker.

All the things you want to hear
Slow comfort honey drip, drip, drip
We are right, we are good, yes
Nod your head easy, meek and mild
It’s them what’s wrong, big scary them
Growling at the threshold, oh little lambs
You’ll be perfectly safe, long as you’re afraid.

Think not on this world’s woes
Let the wounds suppurate and fester
The stench just angel baby’s breath
A grave made of this world
For the empty dark hole of the next,
You know it folks, step right up
All it takes is evetything you’ve got
From now till forever and ever amen.

So the dirt clogs lungs,
Clots beneath eyelashes
Lips sewn shut by scarabs and worms
Isn’t it lovely, the next life
So cozy beneath blankets of fruitless earth
Barren and threadbare bereft
Choking on aspirin bitter
Ashes under the tongue, we all fall down.

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Silence

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 23, 2015 by beautifulimposter

Some days it’s like trying to drink a raging ocean
Swells grey green towers,
Skyscrapers of spray and fume and wrack
Salt burning bile choking
Inhaling sooty flame in vast gulps
Veins glowing angry tectonic cracks
Bones groaning under pressure
Grinding to powder, powder to diamond
Pure, sharp, clean
Edges of anger sharp and bitter
Swallow that too
Until throat is ribbon
Bloody strips of raw meat
But you can’t cough it up
Oh no, you can’t, it must be swallowed
Every lump and cankerous bite
Eating coal by the shovelful
Dust growing tumors on bellows leathern lungs
Empty with all the silence you’re bound to keep
A fist crawling up your neck from within
Clamping your tongue with fingers like teeth
Teeth like doors to mausoleums
Weathered and crumbling
The seals knotted tight
As tight to bone and sinew
All of it, the shape of all the anger
Bound into your flesh
So many needles corrugating railroads
Along your arms
Climbing into caskets of razor wire
Tetanus blood watering scorched earth
Because that is all that can bear the weight
As it folds in, hungry mouth sucking
Gulping down, chewing on it
All of the suffer, swallow it
Good boy, clean your plate
Use the scraps of your heart for sop
Without a sound
You swallowed every last drop
Till it was all dry and grey and dust
With nothing but the bones of whales
And the silence you kept so well.

If Only

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on July 4, 2015 by beautifulimposter

I want to forget

Just for a while that I’m a nice guy

That I’m civilized,

Just for a few thunderous heartbeats

I want to lose myself

Feel the spatter of hot blood

Across my brow

As I jump head long and shrieking

Into the midst of a white power rally

Or a prayer meeting

For the Westboro Baptist Church,

Laying about me with fury

With a Louisville slugger.

I want to tear at my flesh

Leave everything bare

Bare to the bone

As they snap under my hands

Drowning out the screams

With my peels of joyous laughter

As I become pure in my rage

Drunk on the taste of copper and fire

Slaying with impunity

Those that have settled their bullshit

Inheritance of hatred

Across my shoulders.

I will teach them

What wrath truly is

Freedom of speech

Only guarantees the government
Won’t fuck with you

They aren’t free from me

And I will guarantee only no quarter

If I could

For just one moment forget

That I am reasonable

That I am civilized

That I believe in the fables of justice

If only…

Gasoline

Posted in Poetry, Previously published elsewhere with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 29, 2015 by beautifulimposter

If I had any courage at all
Any actual strength of conviction
I’d grab the can of gasoline I have in my garage
Drive myself to the square in front
Of old state Capitol
Douse myself down and light my last cigarette.

I could become a symbol
For anyone, burning there in silence
As my flesh sizzles and drips
Maybe someone will take a picture
Or news crews will put me on at eleven
Swathed in greasy black smoke.

My pain could be everyone’s
A universal sacrificial pyre
The roaring flames one hungry voice
I’d do my best to be stoic
I could become a bright banner
For all the angry, the bitter, the hurt.

I’d leave no note or explanation
So in obscure ambiguity
My death could come to mean anything
One act so that there never need be another
I’d breathe in the flame
Hold all of the pain in my crumbling lungs.

I know it wouldn’t be any of those things
It would just be another awful death
Among thousands, consumed and forgotten
But if I had one wish
It would be that my death could mean something
Be worth more than my living ever could.

Mouth Piece

Posted in Poetry, Social Commentary with tags , , , , , , , , on April 22, 2015 by beautifulimposter

I would like, if I may
To address the assembly
So if all you fine princes could kindly
Lend me the ears of your handlers, the string pullers
Staining your grubby white collars,
All you robber barons, if you could
Please wipe your greasy, bloody fingers,
Cast your hungry, vulpine gaze towards the podium,
If you sainted ministers
Of the confraternity of the rosy palm
From your conspicuous sticky fumbling neck rubbing,
It would be greatly appreciated.

Without further preamble
I feel I must clear my throat
For I seem to be choking to death
On tumors grown too large, I can’t swallow anymore
So I’ve decided to spit, you’ll have to forgive me
The spots it will leave on your trousers,
If it weren’t for the tight grasp dirty mean fisted
Storm trooper riot gear cartoon villain goons
I’d probably be more able to oblige your appetites
Be better able to consume
The power play facade white plastic fascist seen you’ve got
Propping yourselves up
But the bubblegum pop sirens aren’t soothing any more
My medium has been massaged to super sized
Brimming fizzy vitriol that I’m sorry
I just will not stomach
I’d much rather spit it out over your paper tiger armies
Of jailbait pretty boys and girls you seem to think
Will distract me whilst you enter raw and without lube.

Slowly, by inches
I’m finding my voice
I found it out standing in the square holding shopping bags
Halting the low beast iron grumble,
It came back to me even as I laid out on the hot tarmac
Choking on my own blood
There it is over there, with the missing, the lost, the ones
You don’t give one fuck about
It’s there, screaming itself raw
Every time she has to defend her status as a victim
It’s building, and you’re afraid 
You know that in this tempest all you have wrought
Will be brought low in the nuclear hurricane
Of a billion voices who are just not going to take you’re shit
Any. Fucking. More.

Fuck your institutions, the left, the right
The waffling middle fence striders
I’m done with your bankrupt morals
Empty, hollow McEthics 
Your bullshit fear mongering
You won’t keep us divided, 
We are legion and our footsteps
Will shake the marble pillars
Topple glass and steel castles
Till the streets are choked and only your heads
Remain dripping upon the battlements.