There is a monstrous rage
living inside us
One that now seems to emerge
from the slightest application
of inconvenience
upon our lives
Watch yourself at the job
a simple request
for someone to
fulfill
their paid duty
can result in
the swift removal
of your head
Watch yourself on the road
the slightest error
in your attempt
to make a left turn
on to Broadway
can bring on a torrent
of hatred and profanity
that apparently
can only be dammed
by your lifeless
and bloody body
You know that
I’m not exaggerating here
you’ve seen it too
Both out there
in them
And in here
in me
in you
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Johnny Depp calls this his “hillbilly rage.”
Feels that way to me, too.
I love this poem. I love “hillbilly rage”, too. (Thank you, Brian; thank you, Johnny.)
I hate my own hillbilly rage. She is a beast to tame…
Brian, I’m re-titling this poem. Much cooler. Of course, it is JD.
Gotta say I love it when the Communicatrix comes around…
You bring out the LA in me Colleen. No, the city never leaves you, just sits down there and smolders.
Beautifully written Robert!
Which left me with this thought… I wonder if our violent nature comes from our instinct for survival. That, in addition to the chain reaction of violence against violence. There seems to be a shortage in compassion these days and an excess in violence. People seem to have this idea of “an eye for an eye” justifies their ill behavior, since they were illed upon. However, in all reality they become just as bad as the person that did them wrong. I have always taken a liking to this story I’m about to share here if you don’t mind…as in a compassionate way to respond to such events…
The Moon Cannot Be Stolen:
A Zen Master lived the simplest kind of life in a little hut at the foot of a mountain. One evening, while he was away, a thief sneaked into the hut only to find there was nothing in it to steal. The Zen Master returned and found him. “You have come a long way to visit me,” he told the prowler, “and you should not return empty handed. Please take my clothes as a gift.” The thief was bewildered, but he took the clothes and ran away. The Master sat naked, watching the moon. “Poor fellow,” he mused, ” I wish I could give him this beautiful moon.”
Where does that rage come from? It’s like we all have such high expectations of life in the 21st century that when reality fails to meet up we end up kicking and screaming in middle of the floor as though we were still 3 years old and haven’t learnt we can’t always have our own way yet. And once we’re adults other people tend to get in the way when we have our temper tantrums expanded the potential to harm both ourselves and others.
It may be the 21st century, but we’re only two steps out of the cave, so to speak.
Just back from Pike Place Market with 5 pale ales inside of me. Could pale ale be the antidote for this rage that we speak of? I feel very mellow indeed. Nay, eurphorically mellow and gay - well, not in that way, but gay all the same.
And yet, alcohol induces rage like no other medicine I know. Not for me though.
Great to be in Seattle again. I’ll make it down to Portland next time around. The Amtrak was en route, but I jumped from the refrigerated car as it slowed through the Ballard docks.
I think I’m going to fire up a forum for this site. Not for the poems, but for the stuff you guys come up with around them.
You people are too interesting to be contained in comments…
But…. forums are ugly. And you have to log into them, and have little stupid profiles…
I rather like the long conversations that get started in the comments, and your post frequency lets them stay front-page long enough to work.
Candice, you’re becoming my digital conscience.
I suppose that fits me as the hacker.
(I’m still not entirely sure how the hacker fits me at this point, but when things choose you, they just do.)
Tom - I was in Seattle two weeks ago. A day trip.
It ended with dinner at a little Italian place in Pioneer Square. I asked for a Mirror Pond, they didn’t have it. She directed me to an Italian beer they carried.
Never had an Italian beer. Went with it.
It wasn’t great, but not bad.
When the bill came I saw that the thing cost $7.50.
Travis - Cool little story, go ahead and fire those off anytime around here. Though I’m an arrogant Presbyterian, certain Zen Buddhist themes ring with me…
Reminds me of Jean Valjean and the gracious Bishop.
Kamsin - I’m surprised you don’t hear my tantrums from over the pond in the UK. There’s nothing quite like not getting what you want. Or think you deserve…
So that’s what that strange stomping/ screaming sound which blows over the Atlantic on the wind is! It’s suddenly all makes sense!
Well done… I was waiting at a red light. turning right, waiting for traffic to clear…beep……Cars still passing through…..beep. What the hell? beepbeep. I look in my rearview. Do I know this person? Do they know me?…….beeeeep. Green light. Go… Black camry with gold trim whips around the inside line and cuts in front of me….. Red light…… There I see it….. New York plates…….. beep…….What an ass.
What a treat on my first visit to you site. I’ll be back.
7.50 for an Italian beer! Now if that doesn’t trigger hillbilly rage I don’t know what will! When we lived in Italy, I became somewhat fond of the local beer. It was Nastro Azzurro and Peroni - light, but nice on the hot summer afternoons. Once, we went to an Irish pub in Italy. When I ordered my Guinness, the bartender asked for the equivalent of 10 dollars.
“No, I just ordered the one Guinness.”
“Si si. venti lira.”
“How can one Guinness be 10 dollars?”
“Sir, we are the only pub in Italy who imports da Guinness directly from Irlanda.”
To top it off, it was the worst pint of Guinness I have had. Doesn’t travel very well - even when imported directly from Ireland apparently!
Kurt - I think you live (along with the Communicatrix) in the epicenter of road rage.
You are the poet-warrior of the 110 freeway…
Jecklin - Give it some time my friend, it only gets worse. Thanks for coming around.
Tom - Yeah, the one I had was very light as well, I guess that’s how the Italians do it.
You figure for $7.50 (or $10) they’d make it worth your while…
And Kurt, do you recognize where the photo was taken in this post?