Tag Archive | anger

Anger Management?

To Hot To Be Cool

Situations control human emotions, But
This is simply ass backwards. The way it should be
Is that consciousness creates circumstances all.
Anger is not a program that wants to install
Itself in vulnerable people. Consciously
Is the choice made to be upset and in a rut.

I need not avoid anger. When driving a car
I’m aware of all obstacles and the guard rails,
And of people mis-crossing, and critters, and such.
I don’t watch for the moon, though, for it doesn’t touch
Any part of the circumstance. Madness prevails
When the path becomes cluttered. I have gone too far.

So, the moon is no threat to me, nor I to it.
Satellites in their orbits that I’ve created
Often drop down and menace my mismanaged mood
To the point where I can be most hostile and rude.
Anger fucks with the body. Should I end up dead,
It would be but my own fault, I’d have to admit.

When outside situations are fine, so am I,
And when they are a challenge, let down I do feel.
Circumstances control me. This cannot be good.
My control of my faculties, if understood,
Then allows me the freedom to release and heal.
I create what I live through and love knowing why.

Being Triggered

Remotely Controlled

My anger is explosive. It sneaks up on me
Like a flimsy hair trigger. I can get upset
In one tenth of a moment. It happens so fast
That reactive behavior comes on with a blast
Meant to show I can be a formidable threat
To those who dare oppose me to any degree.

At issue is the pain body. It’s a dense field
Of life energy where pain and anger are stored.
If I’m not aware that the pain body exists,
Then I am yet unconscious, and chaos persists.
After my ill performance I see no reward
But emotional baggage foolishly revealed.

Full identification with the pain body
Means that I and my ego and it are the same
Which is false, but while unconscious, thinking it’s true,
I’m a slave to its drama. Then what can I do
But to fly off the handle? The aim to be tame
Is one taken in wisdom. It’s better for me.

That I have a pain body I must be aware
But in absolute presence and knowing full well
That I’m separate from it. It then dissipates.
I don’t want to be someone who constantly hates.
Through the practice of presence in peace I may dwell.
Contentment in the moment is what I find there.

The Roots Of Anger

On the Horizon of Hate

There’s a root to my anger. When it cripples me,
I’ve but one of two choices. The wrong one results
In destructive behavior and harm to my health.
Like three ships into sunset accustomed to stealth
On the stillness of sea, the intention insults
Who I am at my best. Disturbed I mustn’t be.

Once I know where those roots are, I can overcome
How they feed through their festering into my peace.
Until then, I’m a loose cannon and a time bomb
Who may do harm to self or others without qualm.
So to heal and get past things, it’s best to release
Energy that is toxic and makes the heart numb.

The process of the healing begins with reaching
From oppressed to oppressor to let it be known
That the bad perpetrated has done the one harm,
And that one does one’s best with intent to disarm.
Asking help from the other will help both atone.
In the final analysis, it’s no big thing.

But it isn’t that way always. Deep rooted hate
Along gender and racial lines practiced worldwide
Passed down through generations is most powerful
And complex as the dickens, therefore it is bull.
Suffering is not mindful and can’t be a guide
In transforming my anger by what I create.

A Display Of Hysterics

Emotional Outbreak

It’s a dark simulation. Our souls make their way
To these game token bodies of weak flesh and bone.
But this isn’t a real place, and what we do here
Is a delicate balance between love and fear.
Each of us is an island that floats on its own.
Nothing is worth the bother to hear what we say.

This is not true for everyone. I’ll walk it back.
There’s a game being played here, but some can’t take part.
It’s as if they’ve no vocal cords yet try to speak
And expect to heard. I’m about out of cheek
Because there’s no more turning. This world breaks my heart
And since no one is reading this I’m right on track.

Often I get hysterical and I lash out.
I am that anti-social I’ll curse everyone
Because I have a website. No one plays along.
Others have one but because I do It’s just wrong.
Friends and family would have me take a handgun
To my head rather than look at what I’m about.

Everyone plays this bullshit with me and it hurts
To the depths of my soul, and it makes me insane.
I’m an angry old bastard. Do Not Fuck With Me!
This Game Is An Illusion. That much I can see.
Twisted Twilight Zone episodes are for whose gain?
Friendliness is fake tool to fuel just deserts.

And do I waste my time here? Again, there’s no ‘here,’
But a ‘somewhere’ to suffer one’s plight upon stage.

People are fun to play with, but not in this hell
Where I’m just not worth looking at. This evil spell
Is not what I’ll get used to. I’ll nurture my rage
To the point of explosion. To no one I’m dear.

Hello, Cruel World…

Nativity and Death

What I offer to this world, this word doesn’t want.
That it’s been such a struggle is more than a clue.
How does it all affect me? My bowels are a mess.
I’ve made light of my issues, but now I confess
That I don’t have an inkling for what I should do.
I came with a few talents, but nothing to flaunt.

As it seems, the dark cloud hangs not over my head.
I am fully engulfed in it. None can I see
As a source of fulfillment. I cry right out loud…
Have I done anything for which I can be proud?
When the sole benefactor turns out to be me
Then it makes perfect sense that I’m better off dead.

But, of course, what seems obvious a remedy
Is a thing that society deems as unfair
So much so, it’s a crime among modern-day folk.
It behooves me to see I’m the brunt of a joke
Of profound insignificance. Shocked in despair,
I shall keep on expressing ‘til I cease to be.

Lunar Return

TheMagicRealist.com

Suppose I am as real as all that I perceive.
That’s a bold hypothetical! I can’t be sure
If my being has meaning. Prue rage leaves no doubt
That perceptions perceive me. Why do I act out?
All existence to me is an ill with no cure.
If I felt any other way, I’d be naïve.

Is it because it’s Wednesday? I’m mad every day
Because days become vicious then shift into night
Then along comes the next day. All remains the same.
Life plays me like an audio/video game
So the way that I must act must be wrong or right.
Every month, when the moon howls, we both have our say.

Yet, the moon isn’t full now. Have I then misspoke?
It remains full of itself regardless of how
We on earth may perceive it. I guess that’s my point.
Tidal waves, like emotions, are doomed to anoint
Every moment that I have, except for right now
Where all meaning available I may evoke.

Live Anger Free?

TheMagicRealist.com

If my responsibility for how I act
Is an accurate image of just how I feel,
Then how come I don’t care if I’m driven insane
To the point where deep anger is hard to contain?
Livid hallucination is tempered surreal
And played out in atrocity for full impact.

People don’t carry buttons that they press at will
To control my emotions for better or worse.
That’s a bit of fake news I can live well without.
Human nature is troublesome without a doubt.
If someone else could control me, that would be a curse.
I alone push my buttons with unconscious skill.

I control how I feel. That’s a good thing to know
And to remind myself of more often than not.
I’ve a fondness for fooling with switches and dials.
I shall mess with my own and then generate smiles.
No one can make me angry, and they shouldn’t ought.
Since I know I control myself, I’m good to go.