The Angry F**k

Alterable premonitions of a "not so angry" man

He lives quietly, not far from me, down the road twenty years or so

In a house of steel, glass and stone where no trees or flowers grow

Neighbors watch the angry f**k as he walks with eyes of cool blue ice

They say; “He was such a loving man so strong, so faithful, so nice”

What happened to change who he once was to the thing that we see now?

And is there a way to save his battered heart from damage accrued somehow?

One summer morning, soon after I arose, while having a bite to eat

Dismayed I noticed the angry f**k had moved right up the street

Occasionally as I trim the verge of my currently lush lawn

He appears across the street from me with his face tight and drawn

He never stops to talk with me or any others here

But in his eye, when he looks at me, I see a wistful tear

So I approached him quite nervously late one autumn day

Smiled quite foolishly unprepared and fumbled for words to say

Before I spoke he began a yarn that made my spine go cold

He said; “Thankfully you were a happy man before my heart got old

I was not always this angry f**k, once I was not so blue

Years have passed and now alas my younger me is you

There was many a day when, in my house, light and laughter bloomed

But while two went in only one came out as the forest fire consumed

You know too well my home and yard weren’t always a dreary pair

Tenderly with love, and these two hands, many seeds I planted there

Helplessly I watched them wither, from verdant green to ash

My heart became carbonized like them, incinerated in a flash

You will understand me much better after a few years more

When you have loved and lost so much your human heart is sore

I try so hard and patiently to steer you from this path

I never want my older you to succumb to this lifes’ wrath”

And with those words he slowly turned and strolled towards his place

It was months thereafter, in the dead of winter, when again I saw his face

He was sitting on the porch, of his new house next door, lounging in a chair

The only acknowledgement given me was a nod that said “I care”

I noticed that as time had passed nearer to me he came

If I lingered much longer in this place there was only me to blame

With that in mind I resolved to find a place where good things grow

I did not ask my angry friend for help because this Eden he did not know

I still catch a glimpse of him, from time to time, and he knows it’s him I see

Somehow it seems the wistful, angry f**k looks less and less like me

But no matter how hard I avoid its’ stare my mirror does at times detect

And in its parallax silver-plated gleam his face it does reflect

If I could see the angry f**k again my heartfelt thanks would then abound

For without his warning words beside my old verge my new home would be unfound

 

 

Unknown, 2016

Reviews

[DeBloyce]

Brilliant! Thoroughly enjoyed reading.

[andrew mitchell]

I really like this profound write I would have said more and more like me to draw closely the comparison but I know where you are coming from in an excellent write!

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

While the meter could use some perfecting and condensing, the overall form and content of this poem is sublime. First the title will entice because it implies something completely different (or perhaps, only to those with a dirty mind) than the body of work. Second, I feel it's a matter of self awareness. A man sees the path he's taking and decides to do otherwise lest he wind up being the very thing he hates.

I really like this. Well done.

[Scott Thompson]

Thanks for the suggestions. Glad you liked it

[Willard Wells]

Well, I read this interesting piece and have taken a few minute to chew on it. By the end, I determined that the younger you moved to get away from the old f**k and so he did you a favor.

Forgive, it's been a long day. I did like it, even if I am still considering it.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

wow yes, he sees his younger self in you, before he became jaded by life...
sooner or later those happy smiles wear off...pain causes facial features to change...and soft heart to grow stiff, rigid...
he regrets what he became, and you fear turning into him...and keep distance.

interesting write...i like it much.

j.

[softlyfall]

The underlying truism here, as I see it, is that the only way to live an authentic life is to be fully present in the moment. Who you were is not who you are, so holding fast to sorrows and hurt disables life, just as always looking to what may (or may not) happen removes you from the actual living of life.
This may sound like proselytizing but really it is only the gentle advice from someone who came very close to self destruct.
This is like a nightmare...a dream that becomes harsh because you haven't paid attention.
I am hearing authentic pain as well as the courage to scrutinize life in these words.
I think this is excellent.

[Lyn Lanier]

I read this as a story and poem combined