Monday, July 10, 2006

The Red Mist

Seeing red, a red sea
fogs up the brain
Acting irrationally
Bordering on insane.

The red mist permeates
The facets of the mind
Acting on impulse
Wits left behind.

Shots fired in anger
Impulses expressed
Leaves us walking wounded
Depressed and distressed.

Be angry, but sin not
Thus says the Word
Or pay the price for petulance
The cost remains absurd.

When sun sets on angry
It seethes in the brain
Permeating one’s thinking
A form of mental rain.

While there is righteous anger
It’s seldom the case
This is the motivator
Of acts done in haste.

Anger leads to violence
More often than not
Stealing what righteousness
A fallen person’s got.

Part the red sea in your brain
With the Spirit’s aid
Or leave a trail of victims
From choices you have made.

July 10 2006


Ben Witherington said...

And an amen to that--- glad you are safely home Kathy...


Ben Witherington said...

It is a question of non-literary evidence which can be dodgy, and in any case is not physical in the sense of having actually contacted or been part of some of Jesus' family's life.


Glen Alan Woods said...

I appreciate Kathy's comments on the poem. Over the past years I have been learning that not only do we have individual responsibility, we also have corporate responsibility. That is to say we are individually culpable and responsible for corporate actions, such as the actions of cities, states and nations wherein we are citizens. It inspires me to pray more intelligently, become more involved tangibly and participate fully in the process of community.


Glen Woods

everettg said...

Is it merely a coincidence that this poem was posted only a day after Zinedine Zidane's infamous moment of anger that so darkened the World Cup final?

One of my favorite quotes from commentators after the fact -- "Madness can descend in just one second, an aberration from nowhere" (Roger Cohen, International Herald Tribune, 7/9/06).

Cohen's madness is, I believe more of a temporary insanity kind of madness. Anger, on the other hand, is something that everyone must deal with. Some people explode and injure others, while some implode and injure themselves.

If this post is completely off topic and your poem was completely unrelated to Zidane's eruption, my apologies for this nonsensical rant!

Ben Witherington said...

In fact I did write this poem after Zidane went insane temporarily--- good eye. As for you Josh, sadly I have no basement, but you are right that I do not think they would have batted an eye about telescoping and foreshortening things in the first century.