RAGE AGAINST

RAGE AGAINST
THE RAGE
THAT RAGES
AGAINST THE RAGE
RAGE RAISES
WRATHFULLY
INTO RAGE-FILLED
RAGING
AND THEN
THE RAGE
TAKES OVER
AGAIN
AND RAGES

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They’re Just Allergies

They’re just allergies
she said
as she strolled
unconcerned
amidst the deadly poison
some people call “spring”

I smiled through puffy eyes
and used the sheer power of my rage
to fling her straight up into the sky

She’ll probably come down eventually
though I’ll be so busy sneezing and crying
that I probably won’t even notice

Socks With Flowers on Them

I wrote a poem
about socks with flowers on them
and then my computer froze
and ate my poem
and ARGH THE RAGE
THE TERRIBLE RAGE
and none of the socks have flowers now
the flowers have been swallowed
by despair
and computer-related frustration
and fury born
of completely unrelated
deadline-induced panic

Helpless Rage (With Extra Poop)

Sometimes
life kicks you right in the metaphorical balls
and you just want to go
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH
DAMNITDAMNITDAMNITDAMNIT
POOP
BIG FLAMING WHEELS OF POOP
EXPLODING IN THE POOPOSPHERE
EAT MY EXPLODING POOP
YOU POOPMEISTER
I SHALL THRUST THE FIST OF MORAL CERTITUDE
AGAINST THE FACE OF EVIL POOP
AND SCREAM IMPRECATIONS TO THE HEAVENS
WHILE I DANCE ON YOUR HEAD IN STILETTOS
AND PUNCH YOU WITH MY RIGHTEOUS ANGER
YOU PIECE OF POOP
WITH POOP ON TOP
POOP
POOP
POOP
and then you go out
and buy some ice cream

Computer

I shall open my “bad poetry” file and quickly write a
wait
why are you
why are you doing that
I want to use the cursor
THE CURSOR
stop shrinking the file
stop
it’s at 25% and I can’t read it
I can’t type
I can’t move the cursor
STOP STOP STOP I HAVE TEN MINUTES STOP
you piece of garbage
I have to reboot now and I don’t know why
and rebooting is taking forever
reboot reboot reboot damn it
okay
you’ll let me onto the Internet but I have clicked on the file three times
THREE TIMES
THREE TIMES
and nothing is happening
nothing is happening
nothing is still happening
I am screaming at you and it is 7:30 a.m. and my neighbours probably hate me
WILL YOU OPEN YOU PIECE OF GARBAGE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD
so I go brush my teeth
and when I come back three copies of you are trying to open
still at 25%
and I am writing the poem and it is taking too long and I’m going to be late and
I hate Wednesdays so much
so so much
and now I must run out the door crying
you stupid stupid machine