"angered" poems
In age of old, in time that pass like tides,
When Prometheus lived and Lo! He strived,
As thirsting for Heaven, he climbed its hills, and trees,
Clenching at the Sun, its spark he seize.
The leaves, they warmed, turn bright and evergreen,
As Prometheus, he to fierce fire wean,
Swell lips sip lightning, of the nascent noon,
And divine heat from his hand duly shone,
To Roses, who sing, uprise and sweet rebel,
In bloom to conquer, vanquish concrete hell.
A wish for fire, fulfilled, angered Zeus,
He thought the fire be given, not to choose,
That excellence with fire, laurel his,
"A crime against the Gods Prometheus did."
For glory of the light from Heaven sent,
The hour of his favour now gone, spent.
Smite down the hero, tear ambition down,
Old Zeus, but young ambition wears your crown,
For daring, striving why not badge of God?
The Promethean vision all time hath applaud,
It art of upper world, belong in sky,
Praise Prometheus as fire goes roving by.
Mind gilded by the golden, whirling thread,
You seize from Heaven, through the Earth now spread,
Bringing hope to hearts, life to the dead,
As for forgiveness of the Gods you plead,
For an uncriminal act and sublime deed,
The arrogance of Zeus? Need not to feed.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 3:14 AM UTC
I am but a driftwood
All but forgotten from whence I came
A place where once had a name
A time when all was good
I am but a driftwood
Set myself adrift
Currents they lift
Bearing their latent gifts
I move as they shift
I'd protest if only I could
I am but a driftwood
Over a body so vast
Over wrecks with broken masts
Spiteful winds howl with angered gusts
An eternity that would last
Eroding my integrity like it should
I am but a driftwood
Know not of where I'm headed
Render me hopeful but will me jaded
Pillaged and plundered
Looted and raided
Swallowed and spat out, ocean's food
I am but a driftwood
Lost and forlorn out at sea
Awaiting land that would receive me
Take me in like I'm meant to be
Give me your sand, bury me completely
Keep me in the safety of your hood
I am but a driftwood
I remember the place from whence I came
A faded dream with a name
Still drifting away from all that's good
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 2:25 PM UTC
My back is laced with scars
Given to me as a parting gift,
As a symbol of the love-that-never-was
Some have already been fully absorbed
Just their tips sticking out,
Forming a grotesque picture
Others, still fresh, still being taken in
Just their tips are slightly embedded
Another one would hardly make a difference
Might wring a cry of pain but nothing much afterwards
-
The glint of the tear as it slides down,
silently,
heedlessly,
into the black abyss,
threatening, wanting,
desperation lacing it's movements,
-
There's a silent 'plop!' sound as it touches
The floor so far below.
So far, so far that no one can see it.
So deep, so deep that no one can hear it
She hardly notices the spare, the extra
There have been too many for her to care
For one more.
A dozen more land in her back,
Angered by her impassiveness
She swivels around because she's still savouring
The ones that are there
For a minute, time stops, the blades stop
The girl's heart, or where it should've been...
That empty little space, occupied by three long
Swords stuck in it's place
They pierce right through her body,
So different from those knives that decorate her back.
Their tips face your eyes
The sword entered her through her back
It would've been a tragedy if only her eyes...
Oh, if only her eyes were something more
Than just endless holes
( - deeper, darker, blacker
more despairing than
the black abyss under her
very feet
- )
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 8:00 AM UTC
I heard the bullets scream
Smashed by the moment
Silence as the pin dropped
His head had hit the pavement
****** in the window
Blood spattered wall
Brother taken before me
Intrepid moment takes us all
Held his hand within mine
Closed his open eyes
Angered by the second
Said my final goodbyes
Bombing in the distance
Death cuts through the air
War is such a *****
and life isn't fair
Ribbons fill the trees
Markers field the green
Memories not forgotten
Brothers forever seen
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
After a nice laugh a tear rolled down my cheek
Shrek wiped it with his big green ear
Want to take a mud bath? he said grinning
sure
We went outside to the swamp and I took my clothes off
Shrek did not like this
GET OUT ME SWAMP
I ran away and cried...
I came back refreshed to the cottage
I lied down
Shrek came in and took a bite of my onion
After that I was angry I yelled at Shrek
WHY DON'T YOU EVER KISS ME
Shrek was angered by this
I went down on my knees to pray
he went to the bathroom
Donkey came in
I had mixed emotions when Donkey came in
for the first time I was in love
his big ears
his hooves
his hair
his nose
I loved every bit
last night
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 8:08 AM UTC
The right winter
for dope and ice
for walks along the river route
home
The right winter
for arctic pin-prick wind
holes in boots
turquoise dress coat
far too thin
for walks along the river
But The Merrimack couldn’t find her way
when fabric moguls migrated south
Fascinated by nylon nasties
they traded their silks and cottons
for those petro-polyesterdays
While she—
could no more manufacture life
than mint their money
So, they blamed her
Pronounced her—“Dead”
Decried her *****
Now—
She wanders sadly under bridges
stopping to eddy in an overhang of birches
In dank canals, I found her sleeping
angered only at the falls
Poor outcast!
with current edge she splinters light
from cities sadder still
retching her oily stench
past Plum Island
into the sea— into me
What’re a few warm tears
falling from someplace on a bridge
to the icy waters of the Merrimack?
Rivers get lost in the ocean don’t they?
Let them find each other there
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 12:49 AM UTC
As I read a Facebook post
I immediately get angered...
Someone had announced they were expecting their 4th child, they found out with a girl...
They went for another ultrasound and to their surprise it wasn’t a girl after all
It was a boy (“it” was hiding)
They posted a status saying “feeling emotional”
“Felling depressed “
I thought to myself “why?” Your having a healthy baby...
I continued to read and it says..
“ We are depressed because we wanted a baby girl, please pray for us during this difficult time and we now adjust to having another boy”
I was confused because your blessed to have another child as so many (like myself) aren’t blessed to have children...
I understand you were happy when you were told it was a girl, but to post your upset and please pray for us?
I don’t understand that part....
Many people around the world would be overjoyed to have a child and your depressed over this....
So sad, especially when you write this on a social media site for all to see...
I pray that you love this healthy child and come to realize how blessed you are to have baby #4......
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 8:09 AM UTC
Her wolf was circling.
The ***** didn't even know...
she was being sized up
by an apex predator.
She elegantly contained this
knowledge of future bloodshed
within her own head.
Never letting that *****
out of her sanguine glare.
She remembers only echoes
of noises that accumulated into words.
Annoying,
ENRAGING,
words.
The wolf pounced out of her control,
but not outside of her desire.
The ***** made a beautiful corpse.
That angered her.
She walked away with a villainous
smirk on her face, and a tumor
of darkness growing inside of her.
The wolf trotting along side her.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
I am like a baby in your bay
You hum as I play the tirkit
Based in your basic base
I heat as your beats explode
I’ll hold you as a hungry lover
An angered one waiting in line
I’ll suckle your filled bosoms
Caress your hide in ecstasy
I’ll put you in my mouth to ****
My idea of a realistic performance
A subtle pitch, altered frequencies
Among my dozen of reigned rhythms
A 15th century Persian marvel
Now musing Punjab, Assam,Goa
Maharashtra,Karnataka and Pashtun
Amuse me in another foreign soil
Trance and ****** me to an addiction
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 7:38 AM UTC
Love is patient
Love is gentle and kind
True Love is never near-sighted or blind
It never boasts
It never brags
It doesn't matter
If your in riches or rags
Love is not rude
It does not say, "Me!, Me!, Me!"
When two become one its, "We!, We!, We!"
Love is not easily angered
It keeps no records of ugly words & wrongs
It only cries out, "How Can We Make It Strong!"
It does not dance with darkness
But serenades the light
To grow stronger is its only appetite
Love always protects
Always hopes and trust
True Love, will never rot or rust
It always perseveres
Through life's storms of thorns & nails
Because, True Love Never Fails.
By Buddy Williams
Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 10:21 PM UTC
I’m fine, thanks…
Is that what you truly mean?
Or do you mean
I’m tired…
I’m lonely…
I’m hurt…
Confused. Bewildered. Angered.
Disillusioned…
Skeptical…
Or maybe
I’m distressed…
I’m woeful…
I’m pathetic…
Lost. Vulnerable.
Infuriated…
Empty. Lifeless. Crushed. Tortured. Dejected. Offended. Afflicted.
Desolate. Desperate. Rejected. Heartbroken…
Tormented…
I’m scared…
I’m disgruntled…
Embarrassed…
Weak. Dreadful. Hungry. Aggravated.
Guilty… Shameful… Frustrated… Jealous… Horrified…
Overwhelmed…
Devastated…
Defeated…
Is fine ever what you truly mean?
Or is it a cover?
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 3:57 PM UTC
The progression of Huntington's disease often leads to the need of a wheelchair. My husband resisted using a wheelchair for many years, even though his poor balance and tiredness meant he was prone to falls. I didn't exactly pressurise him into using one. To be honest it was not just because it was another sign of loss of independence, but it would have been harder for me too in many respects.
What I wasn't prepared for, when the time came, was the social stigma attached to wheelchair users insofar as becoming a kind of non-entity! In a weekly blog I wrote in 2008 I wrote about the first time I took my husband out in a wheelchair. It angered me how peoples’ attitudes seemed to change overnight.
Walking down the High Street,
Hand in hand like lovers,
The couple blend into the crowd,
No different from the others.
As the years go by though,
His body having changed,
Has sadly meant a wheelchair,
Has had to be arranged.
Strolling down same High Street,
The woman now behind,
Her lover needing pushing,
Steep pavements so unkind.
Entering the bar now,
With awkward navigation;
People jump to open door,
Aware of situation.
“Thank you” says the man in chair,
When wheeled into the place;
“Welcome” say the helpers there,
But all avoid his face.
Carer gets the “Welcome” mouthed,
No looks with him they share;
Let’s treat this fellow human being,
As if he wasn't there.
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 7:39 AM UTC
Submissiveness:
give into man. silence yourself. his word is final. rush to his beck and call when he is angered. we are wrong. man is dominant, and woman is soft. if man is the bone, we are the gushy cartilage cushioning his fall. body dominated and composed of bone, but we are the organs that keep the body functioning. forever being transplanted, while our men are broken. submit.
Purity:
save yourself for man. wait for him with all your white so you are not tainted. innocence upheld. it is all for him, only him. wait for him to take it all, whenever he desires. be pure.
Domesticity:
the home calls our name. it is our calling. our knees bound to scrubbing, hands tied to kneading because our family needs us. we are to be the slaves of our homes just as we were to the white man. permanency of pressing collars that are not our own. domestic labor.
Piety:
we come from the rib of adam. without the presence of man we, ourselves would not exist. for this reason, we worship. we worship to reiterate our purity, to maintain our sanity when others challenge our virtues of womanhood. the lord is our shepherd. we uphold our lord. besides our husbands, he is all that we shall want.
womanhood.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 12:08 PM UTC
there once was this guy named oedipus
of whom it was prophesied
that his mother he'd marry, his father he'd ****
at a place where three roads were tied.
his mother and father discovered their fate
and tried to dispose of their son
but he ended up in corinthian lands
and their efforts were all undone.
then a drunk guy ruined his happy facade
and to an oracle oedipus went
who repeated to him the dank prophesy;
he fled corinth, not taking a cent.
while on his sojourn away from his home
he encountered a party royale
which rudely pushed him off of the road,
and angered he slaughtered them all.
then from that blood soaked three-way path
he nonchalantly flew
not knowing that his father was
the man that he just slew.
he continued his journey until he reached thebes
where a sphinx held the city hostage
so oedipus solved the bird-cat's lame rhyme
and released thebes from its *******
as a reward, the people of thebes
gave oedipus their widowed queen,
unknowingly joining mother and son
in a marriage that was unclean.
after they ruled for twenty good years,
during which four children came,
a plague was induced by the sheltering of
the man by whom was slain
in searching him out, oedipus found
that the murderer was really he,
so long ago. the man he had killed
at the place where were joined roads of three.
but by finding this out, he also discovered
that his wife and his mother were one.
he gouged out his eyes after her suicide;
in her own bedroom she was hung.
as it turned out, oeddy exiled himself
but the seeds of his misery were sewn.
so he went to colonus and wandered around
and this is the end.
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 5:14 AM UTC
I am disgusted.
Disgusted of the world,
the pain, and evil
That surrounds us.
The pain we don't deserve.
All is lost, as we sit here.
In pain.
In agony.
In despair.
I am disgusted to many,
of what they've become.
The destroyers,
the saints of the world.
Getting away with deeds,
that they have no souls no more.
Anger fluster inside me,
as my body trembles from
the blood boiling inside I.
Why must I live and see
the evil deeds.
Of the wicked and
evil.
I am disgusted and angered.
Adultery, lies, and suffering.
Oh I dislike.
I am disgusted by all
wicked behavior and
actions.
Just disgusted.
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 10:22 AM UTC
A doer not a talker,
A finder's keepers,
not a stalker,
first he is A Man,
gentle in his MANnerisms,
but not the knuckles or
his calloused hands.
He does not stand out
in his field, he is too busy
working to increase the yield,
not make best use of fifteen
minutes, OF Few men can
this be said, his hat still fits
his crew cut hairy head.
when he opens his mouth
to speak, his thoughts take
shape and become Words,
not charged with emotion,
not angered or raging,
not with some rite of self-
righteous indignation.
He speaks his peace,
and sits his *** on the
nearest thing he can find,
he has a sound body and
a sound mind, when she
decides and marries him she
will find, treasure. Rare.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.
~ 1 Corinthians 13:4-8
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 10:01 AM UTC
From the time the heart first knew how to feel, and the eyes distinguished rain from tears, few have hidden behind the walls within me. Whether they found it a safe place or a jail cell - well, I guess we'll leave that to the imagination. No matter if it was a cell or heaven, the space within always felt alive. Even at my deadest times, the heat within coursed like it knew something more valuable was in store.
Somehow, some way, a wanderer found a pathway in. Had he known better, perhaps he would not have been in the hands of the girl with wisps of flame at her angered fingertips. The burns don't sustain, but the more that's lost, the more it dissolves all other slivers of hope left to grasp.
Fear is the real culprit, you must see. The fear I must face by harboring a false love; a fear of committing my own sins; of breaking my own promises.
I've never understood a "true understanding." Anger can be cooled by the calm, as does the rainbow after the storm. With the storm blown over, his eyes shone bright and revealed his intentions clearly - you can still love with a straight face and a frigid heart.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 9:58 AM UTC
People in the Bible worshipped idols time and time again.
They did it even though doing so was a terrible sin.
People once worshipped Baal, it was one of the idols.
People refused to worship God even though it was vital.
When God saw people worshipping idols, it really angered him.
They had to suffer the Lord's wrath when he punished them.
Some of those people's cities were destroyed and some became slaves.
Worshipping idols was a stupid and shameful way for them to behave.
Some people still have idols, one of which is movie stars.
Jehovah God is watching, he knows who these people are.
The Lord is the only one who people should idolize.
If you worship him, it is a decision that is very wise.
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 6:46 PM UTC
Tentacles grasping for nutrition
Soaking in everything around you.
Filled with visceral emotion overload
Angered by the world's injustices
You must then express yourself in ink
To empty.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 7:32 AM UTC
Like a lioness, you fought your house to keep
And swift as deer, you ran ahead of time
Fearing neither the Western rifles nor barriers of the African culture
Setting your eyes on victory, you left behind the cooking role
Refusing to be betrayed by coward men leaders
Angered by colonial disrespect and maltreatment,
Your love for Asanteland and pride was greater than gender
The brave feminist of Africa, whose fights preceded Beijing
Yaa Asantewaa, the shoes you left behind are too big to fill
But like you, we'd dare, our nation to defend
And our people we'd love enough to die for.
Yaa Asantewaa, like you we will step to fight, though without guns
Our brains, hearts and skills the point would prove, that we're descendants of thine
Gone with your body but in us, your nature lives on
We'd fight beyond Seychelles and return our land to rule.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 8:23 AM UTC
The plump moon lights up my room.
My mind is now a flat graph
no desire no lust no dream
the cold winds from the rumbling sea
make no dent on me
I look at my palms
and see the cracked floor
gnarled roots of mangrove on the wall
blend seamlessly with all I have
like once I had her in this room
love together
taking wingless flight to the moon
but now I more like sitting here
prospecting no words to rhyme
not angered at the blankness
for in this vacuous moonlight
I wait without a hope of gain
without a despair of loss
unconstrained for time
contoured by fireflies
alone
recounting a new beginning
from the end.
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 11:00 AM UTC
Thursday at lunch was the last time I seen her
Questioning my absent-mindedness from the world
Heart beat slowing with each breath I take
My response was a simple request for lonesome
As company angered me to a boiling point
Relocation was followed by echoes of my name, fading with each step
Then momentarily disturbed as I am approached for questioning once again
What's wrong? Why are you being like this? Talk to me!
But silence was all that could've been provided
My intentions would only hurt me
Though you wouldn't seem to care
What's your purpose?
Your questioning doesn't seem to serve a reason
You only care when things reflect negatively on you
And this looked as your fault
Had people wondering where my mind had gone
You ripped my heart from my chest, with no hesitation
Leaving me as your slave
And destroying me with bare hands
So I don't see why you care
What do I mean to you?
You made me feel like less than a human being
I didn't want to be here anymore
I felt like there was nothing else here for me
Smiling dissolved from my everyday life
Appalling tendencies all pointed to me
Even with hope in grasp, effort was something I didn't feel the need to give
I wanted this to end
Emotions covered me as if they were my own skin
Agony, I'd call it
The dynamics of pain could be expressed to in a lifetime
But was dealt to me in less than 4 years of my young life
Perpetual emotions wouldn't leave me to myself
As memories haunted me throughout my depressed days
As my nights grew longer and colder
Loneliness became my only option
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC