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Anger (catalectic dactylic tetrameter)

What shall we say of man’s anger that’s true?
Natural instinct it’s not spite the claim
leveled by science with nary a clue.
Psychoanalysis proffers a name.
Yet, all the while not assigning it here.
Anger is nothing but rank genic plague
wrought long ago in agrarian fear.
Let me be far more succinct and less vague.

Choler has seldom been found in the wild.
Let us then take as example the chimp.
Passion and willfulness as a small child
monkeys enjoy and in such never skimp.
Anger though, nature will not view so mild.
Chimpanzees do not grow rageful with ease.
Beasts of the field who are yet in right mind
demonstrate temper, though do as they please.

Chance of exception will never occur.
Creatures who rage in a fit overtakes
suffer a madness that reason will blur.
Outcomes will always lead swift to mistakes.
Nature will not tolerate such a thing.
Quick and so final the being will die.
Out from the gene pool it’s pulled floundering.
Anger’s hot pestilence gone with a cry.

Humans however, mad civilized man,
trembling emotional, angst ridden fool,
tilling the Earth has done all that he can,
safeguarding swimmers awash in that pool.
Consociation keeps anger in check.
Nothing protects like a strong prison wall.
Genes of the madman, regardless the wreck,
know only comfort devoid of a fall.

Nature is thwarted- mistakes are allowed.
Anger’s preserved spite the plague it’s become.
Rage has escaped as society’s cowed.
Mankind now wallows in pestilent scum.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
This is an odd subject which I will follow up with a short blog expressing my "opinion".
Editing stage: 


Following this one...perhaps the never ending plague I keep.getting or maybe my lack of sleep and commonsense.

Keep Writing,

"Quoth said the Raven, NEVERMORE"

if I didn't have a background of this. The diction didn't help much in making it any easier,
but the last stanza sums it all for me.


Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

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you link it to your blog "Anger". That one clarifies better the anticipated vagueness .


Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Follow me

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