Angry poems

Angry poems — a collection of the best works on PoemShip.

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Dave Bonta

Carnivalesque

if I make filth and love from that horse the body I think myself obliged to think myself happy and not forget the winds that come only to entertain us a choir of voices buried in one infinite chapel a window is better than an absence which disgraces the stone awake I was angry to sleep is to give way

Dave Bonta

Philistines

who having proved to be challenged by difficult art must be against it or profess that nothing ever is beautiful taking themselves for ordinary people like unpaid money whispering to me not to dance

Dave Bonta

Prospectors

where we met on occasion mining abuses for very small stones locked up in the dirt the fields could not carry our bodies lost and dangerous whole places blown away or driven here and there like ships of lack

Dave Bonta

Maquiladoras

bled to make shoes to make clothes which they did with good will and great pain who could not say Let us see what we can do to mend all as a fur of experience rose over us like amber

Dave Bonta

Dispossession

if talking is thinking an afternoon doing business must cure the quiet possession of some undiscovered prize and we shall get free money calling the poor to be ready for our coming night

Dave Bonta

Resistor

midnight in my head aching from the news of hate a moth on his oak beaten by the green afternoon cursing the wind of our nothing-but-money lie

Dave Bonta

Fearmongers

last night brought back in the mouth of my fear we are not rid of our trouble our whole hate business where a lie is true it is so much rope

Dave Bonta

Disaster capitalism

come a reckoning I think I shall be able to profit off it the plague increases still but like a parliament not much concerned we laugh to sleep

Dave Bonta

Lumbermen

in the raw timber I see nothing of the hill but ruins what a dreadful thing it is to look down the precipice into a grave board on board men full of pillage making money of some honest joy

Dave Bonta

Intemperate

like a blade carried in the teeth my temper not fit to go to bed with if I hope to sleep

Dave Bonta

Out of sight, out of mind

fine fish from a wretched dirty sea we bought four easily persuaded almost to anything offer us love but never science wrong the poor but make me thankful for being at ease

Dave Bonta

Touched

I have been touched in a coach on a boat in the street how numb I am to it that pernicious hand the whore fit for no one that he would have me be

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