Anger

have you ever been so upset about something that you are ready to explode? well i have. I hate it when adults think that you know nothing but you might just know more than they do? Or the fact that when you are young your parents or Teachers told you that fighting is not the answer and that you should just talk it out? Yeah well, how come that doesn't apply when you are older how come every day millions of families have to say good-bye to thier loved ones and might not see them again. How come we have wars but when you are young you aren't aloud to have little fights where the most that could happen is a black eye? Or how come they can't just talk it out, INSTEAD of having the worst thing happen... someone dieing. Exuse me if i'm wrong but there seems to be a problem here, HOW CAN WHAT WAS SO WRONG WHEN YOU"RE A KID TURNS INTO THE WAY OF LIFE WHEN YOU ARE OLDER?????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It just makes me so angry to think about.

I snarl, howl
and sharpen my claws.
I slash, tear
and snap my teeth.
My weapons flash of rage
though beneath the skin they lie
these articles of battle.

In order to win the war
I must be a slick ice princess.
But really,
they don’t see the roaring fire empress.
I turn from the challenge,
once again.
Yet not without flashing a smoldering claw.

Here is an example of some short fiction that I wrote at the conference and just typed up:

Tomato Soup

I sighed as the man came a halt again, this time, appartently, to examine different tomato soup brands. Some more politically correct person in my position might have called him “overwight” or “obese” or even morbidly obese, but, in truth, he was fat. Some people are acceptable members of society who happen to be a bit overweight, but this particular fellow was fat. Why? Because he was an obnoxiously fat person. He quite literally took up the whole grocery aisle and seemingly moved at the pace of a boulder rolling uphill. I was pretty sure I was being ever so subtly pulled into his gravity well. I feared that if I traveled behind him too long I would be locked in orbit until he either lost weight on his own or through posthumous decomposition.

Sooner and faster than I
meant to,
I felt my hand
streaking across
his contorted face.
The shouting stopped, substituted for a sharp, harsh sound.
A red mark soon formed on a place,
on the person I
once
admired.

Any excuse to touch him.

Anger reminds me of blood
Coursing through my veins and
Pouring on to the hard floor

Annoyance reminds me of a bug
Buzzing in my ear and
Biting my leg consistently

You remind me of a mosquito

swagger
you walk you talk, its empty
you think you drink, its empty
what passes through your head when I walk by,
most likely nothing
what passes through your head at all. there's something there but I don’t understand it
I cant understand it
it doesn’t work
your thoughts seem so alien yet so familiar
the things you don’t know and don’t comprehend

Sometimes I
read her words, and
my hands start
shaking I
can feel tears growing and
clogging the back
of my throat like
tiny weights pulling me
down, ripping their
pixie-like fingers through
my eyes but
this feeling,
it's more than
Sadness, it's more than
Pity, it's
Anger towards
her,

and at first I don't
realize this emotion because
it's stronger than I've

What's your Deal?
By Katie Clark
Leland and Gray School, Grade 12

People watch as I walk by
They stare and scoff
My clothes are different
My accent is southern
So what?
Why should I be held in a different regard?
Where is your heritage?
What do your parents do for work?
Who cares?
I’m a person
With my own opinions

Anger's Transformation
By Zion Keck
Main Street Middle School, Grade 8

I see a boy, anger in his eyes.
It haunts my soul so I can hear his silent cries.
I want to reach out to him, tell him I care.
But his rage is so strong it rips my soul bare.
What went wrong, for he loved to laugh and smile?

Water For My Imagination
By Sandra Markowitz
Main Street Middle School, Grade 8

Anger is red. Red hot as the spiciest salsa on an august day.
Anger tastes like blood, bitten from my tongue to cut back sword sharp remarks.
Anger is like tears, rising up in my chest until I can only just confine it, a dam full to burst.