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José Rosa There is anger in poetry in the intimacy of my dreams, ask myself is there any wisdom blended in the passion of a poem? is there any beauty that rages the animal instinct? anger What does it mean? don’t boots anger the ants in their shelter? fires burn the heart of the soil storms smooth the surface of mother earth the wrath of rivers drags along sand and stones Don’t they? why not then my passion rooted in rage the fury in the fiery trench of history the companion living death of wars blood tinting rivers and cities skeletons of 500 years aerate my wisdom Don’t they? children knifed for the sake of few “good old days” elders trapped by sweeping napalm bombs butchering the purity of humans crowded bullets uphold the conquerors laws Of course this poem is filled with rage and wisdom Isn’t every one? To contact José Rosa send an email to: jlroez@gmail.com
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