Unseen Rage

 smoldering simmering rage 

locked and sealed in 

stewing like pot roast

but not succulent and delicious

just rage rage rage 

in an isolated cage, stewing and simmering

Every day with no expression heard

by others. just isolation and alienation.

In older age, my simmering rage

is ineffectual and caged, except I can write it

on this page that no one ever sees, except me

I am alone in a world of 8.3 billion non-sage

Ordinaires, we are all stewing in our anger

like juicy pot roast dinners no one eats.

like ticking time bomb dinners seething with rage

that only gets put on a page in our old age, and we

are not sage, and we have no gauge for our condition

just staid placid alone rage on a page in our old age. 

We will not explode but implode within and collapse

like the 9/11 twin towers free-falling from implosion

like a planned demolition, like staid afraid made anger

misplaced unexpressed stewing over decades of quiet rage

unexploded, just roasting like uneaten food as

They bomb Greenland and Venezuela as they gut

Earth in the womb and bleed her dry as a tomb

For ancient gasoline engines that should be forgotten

on this stage, they cry and rage, and with war they wage

In Alzheimer's aphage, the brain bacteria dementia

non sage old age phage war on the brain rage 

with mindless no soul age no planet age no more life age

I war on this page, my unseen rage that simmers

like a pot roast dinner in an empty oven in my stewage.