Lingering, bottled-up anger never reveals the ‘true colors’ of an individual. It, on the contrary, becomes all mixed up, rotten, confused, forms a highly combustible, chemical compound then explodes as something foreign, something very different than one’s natural self.
When your success hovers from one person to the other, it will definitely get to someone who will regard it as failure.
Some people take offense like it’s a limited time offer.
I just wanted silence, not rage, not anger, not going trouble… One simple thing silence!
I forgot to sup
from his glass full of
mingled dread and rage
Now let me take
a small draught of solace
from my own little cup
full of predicaments!
From the poem- Draught
Tunc enim robustius contra vitia erigitur, cum subdita rationi famulatur.
You’ve got a shitty habit, you know it? I’ve noticed it on all those TV drive-safely pitches that you do. You breathe in people’s ears. You sound like a stallion in heat, Philbrick. That’s a shitty habit. You also sound like you’re reading off a teleprompter, even when you’re not. You ought to take care of stuff like that. You might save a life.
You’re on, Ted,
Then you can blame it on your parents,’ I said, smiling. ‘Won’t that be a relief?
you, my friend, could be the smoke’s daughter,
you who may not have known you were born of fire and rage,
lightning over flaming lava etched your violet mouth,
your sex in the scorched oak’s moss like a ring in a nest,
your fingers there in the flames, your compact body
rose from leaves of fire that make me recall
there were bakers in your family tree,
you’re still the rainforest’s bread, ash from violent wheat,