Tag: Rage

fuck you, all the same

as the days pile up

flash bulb memories

are what i remember

of the alcoholic father

the alcoholic first husband

the drunken loss of a decade with the blue eyes

it may be a disease but that makes you no less vile as a person

there’s no excuse for

trembling as my dad threw a giant television set out the front door into the yard

stairs turning upside down as the father of my sons headbutted me into submission

for wanting to leave his dysfunctions

threats of handguns and bodybags

that’s booze soaked rage

a blitzkrieg of anger

a pot boiled over

every tea kettle in the world simultaneously

spitting steam

screaming

Tags Alcoholism, Domestic Violence, Rage

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

i can say this if i call it art

Post author By aayoung
Post date June 5, 2014
4 Comments on i can say this if i call it art

do you remember holding me down on the floor
and blowing cigarette smoke in my face
then spitting on me and slapping me repeatedly?

do you remember tearing my clothes off
and throwing me out the front door
because i wanted to take my children and leave
your sickness?

do you remember the way you would squeeze my throat until my eyes bulged out saying
you cunt i know how to not leave marks?

do you remember saying if i got away from you
you would hunt down everyone i love and kill them and then you would kill me in front of our sons so they would know what their dirty bitch mother had coming to her?

do you remember slapping our boys in the face repeatedly
snot and tears running down their faces when I found you torturing them
because they couldn’t say their abc’s?

do you remember any of that, motherfucker?

i do

and one day i’m gonna come for you

it will be the day i receive a terminal diagnosis

this isn’t a threat
it’s a promise i intend to keep
as you used to say

see
i still have that hunting knife you gave me
and i’m gonna return it to you
from your groin to your gullet

Tags big game hunting, Domestic Violence, poetry, Rage

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

rage jar

spring is having its way
with me
and the trees
blooms buds
throw rugs
drapes
everything clean
new

fresh thoughts and ideas

i’m keeping nothing ugly in the house
furniture
chipped dishes
anything that reminds me of you

not even angry thoughts

so i’ve placed a rage jar
on the old roll top
ringing my own pavlovian bells

each time you cross my mind
serial killer of happiness
stealing a moment of my peace
i put a five in

at the end of every month
i will donate the contents of
the redemptive vessel
to a battered women’s shelter

my anger transforming into compassion

making something good come
to a woman in need

from the evils that you do

Tags bells, charity, joy, love. women's studies, mitigation, Pavlov, peace, Rage, rage jar, reclaiming, redemption, reformation, spring

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

frantic swine

his echo follows
no matter how swift my feet
or hiding places divined

the night we died
amidst an ice fog
of our own design

god awful legions screaming inside his gullet

a sound
burrowed into my skull
flesh still seething
forever torn

“But you’re mine! You’re mine! You’re mine!”

Tags Loss, love, poetry, protein synthesis, Rage

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

white shoulders

to him
every hole
in a woman’s body
is an invitation to violence

ears are for filling with bile
the mouth is for gagging
the tongue will scream until it is cut out

lips for splitting with fists

the sex organ and anus
interchangeable
meant only for acts of desecration
in the temple

the stench of his sickness
mixing with old lady perfume
filling your nose

as he guts you

his final act
waxing romantic
about telling his mother
“I hope you get cancer of the eyes”

as your bride of frankenstein flesh dies

left to rot in the square
for all the pitch fork and torch bearing
townspeople to behold

yet he is overjoyed
with his trophies left behind
some red nail polish
a few lipsticks
and our clothing
hanging carcasses
in his meat locker closet
as he made sure all of us wore
his perfect dress size