Anger is easy.
Easy to cultivate,
and easier to feed.
It requires little thought
and less reason.
Just a target –
a focus for its wrath.
****
Your anger begs for satisfaction,
done with dirty fists and vicious hands.
Swift kicks to bring it pleasure.
Blows about the face and chest.
These are the ones to bring delight.
They make your best statements -
lasting longer, and being harder to disguise.
Beat and run, that’s the game.
Make a break.
And keep running.
Keep running until the only things left
that still remind you of the deed
are the red rags you tossed into the trunk
along with your old baseball bat.
Keep running.
Keep running and never look back.
Because back there
is where the hurt is.
Where the beatings first began.
Back there is a drunk who passed for pappa.
And a child with broken dreams.
Keep running and never look back.
Because looking back is hard.
Hard to do and hard to see.
Better to keep running, and looking straight ahead.
Better to be angry.
Because anger is easy.
So much easier than pain.
Anger is easy.
Easy to cultivate,
and easier to feed.
It requires little thought
and less reason.
Just a target –
a focus for its wrath.
And God knows
there are plenty of targets around.
Boys for pleasure, boys for pain.
Boys just waiting.
Easy boys.
Easy targets.
Blue-faced boys.
Needing to be bloodied
because of who they are –
what they are.
Victims because they got in your way.
Beaten for anger’s sake.
Beat them fast.
Because fast expressions of anger
are the best kind.
They make the point
and get the job done
in one quick and easy lesson.
Quick and cruel.
Made to hurt; made to last.
Made to get even for beatings of your own.
For failing grades and hand-me-downs.
For all the memories learned the hard way.
You know.
The ones that came in the form of a stick
or a wide hand across your cheek.
So now you got all those boys.
Those sad blue-faced boys.
Boys meant to make up for everything you lost.
Meant for beating.
Meant for bashing.
Meant for anger at its best.
And you know what?
The best part is that nobody really cares.
Because all those blue-faced boys are lonely.
Worse than you, they got no friends.
No friends and lots of enemies
to turn the other way.
Lots of enemies to say it serves ‘em right.
Serves ‘em right, they say.
And what were they doing out there anyway?
Out there where the likes of you could find them.
Look out for anger.
Watch out when it finds its mark.
Because anger needs action.
Action to express itself.
To overcome pain and humiliation.
Anger needs action. Action and a target.
Your anger cries out for satisfaction.
But who will be your next blue-faced boys?
Who will be your targets?
Who will be your victims?
Who will you hit to hide your shame?
****
November 12, 1995
Let it rest, child.
Let their hatred go unchallenged.
Let them go child.
Best to leave them to themselves.
Let it rest, child.
Give yourself the right to turn away.
Let them go child.
Find the strength to rise another day.