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January 2017, vol 12 no 4

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Mac Miller

Age and Anger


The first time I can remember losing my temper and being angry was when my younger sister fell off my new bike and I was angry for the scratches left on the frame and for her yelling for just a broken arm. Apart from that I can’t remember anything as a young boy except saying bugger out loud and having a clip around the ear from Dad. I was angry he heard me.

storm clouds
the anger comes
in a flash

I’m angry for not listening to various schoolteachers (who I now realise were a little more intelligent than me) but the real anger is while putting on my pants. It’s when the second leg gets tangled in the material and I nearly fall over (something to dread in old age). So anger has changed within me but the release word stays the same, bugger!

Now I’ve reached old age my anger has become global. I’m angry at anyone who will not see the ego maniacs, military or political, who treat us as ‘sheep’ waving banners, but it’s summer now and short pants are so much easier to slip on than the socks.

unbending knees
knotted with anger –
bugger


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