curvatures of anger
spare no direction
slash in wilding circles
keen scimitars
flourished by
furious hands
slicing bones and beliefs
within reach of
the cold whistling
speed of its arc
guilt or innocence
hardly material
fall equal victims
with viscera tumbled
and torn to the ground
undiscernible
cut into meaningless
medical waste
until no one’s left
standing or breathing
or living just bleeding
and anger subsides
within uprising gasps
of “my god what
the hell have I done”
Reblogged this on Icanbeatit.
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thanks, as always
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And you are welcome as always 😀 😀
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There’s nothing more frightening to me–whether in others, or myself.
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it is a deadly emotion
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Reblogged this on Poesy plus Polemics.
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Analysis of anger in the form of poetry – almost as if talking to a patient on a couch. Wonderful approach superbly executed.
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I think it was me on the couch
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Well, that was excellently captured. 🙂
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much appreciated, Lisa
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Reblogged this on OUR POETRY CORNER.
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Not pretty at all–and the ripple effect is wide and on-going.
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thank God we have poetry as an outlet
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Yes, Sir–I thank Him Every Day for that. I have a new visual of Him sitting up in Heaven and saying, “I think I’ll make this one a poet–that will help”.
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