Machines of Rage - a poem

Thrash about thrash about thrash about
hyper sensitive to rage, rageful, full of rage,
seething hands, fisted, raised, bargaining,
inferno raising, boiling, lifted to peak
penetrative laser beams exploding fuel
trucks, taking no need to temper these feelings
because the feelings are fire, pure fire, fire.

Wonders in abrasiveness of suffering of children
wonders about pained children, hurting children,
always children, leave wonders amass in anger,
thrashes, seething, leaves hands wringing out necks
of grief. Children suffering in treatments, or wars,
always children, skin to ribs, tubes where they shouldn't
go, and smallest of all of us, strongest of all of us,
smiling on, reciting nicknames, playing with toys,
passing jokes, dealing better than adults in charge,
but this does not diminish inferno building.

Smoke bellows, it blocks, it corrodes insides,
as we, we not suffering, for now, wonder how
to communicate our rage, and we rage, rage
till sun disappears, rage when sun is appeared,
and anger permeates conversations
that we scorn, and burn into ourselves, fiery
brands of curse words, accompanied by debates,
bargains, as we face skyward, and say fuck,
why, dammit, why, please, oh please, and please,
how do we unseat ourselves as we are strapped
in by this glue, cementing us in this bellowing
smoke stacked intimidation of ourselves,
as we search dark questions, for darker answers.

And children, always children who listen to us ponder
the universe, and who see it clearer, with better vision
and we wonder why us, we, adults, the older, the foolish,
can't be gone in place of those who spy skies with innocence,
and we rage, and throw our tantrums as children did,
but we are not children, we are just machines of rage,
rage that we can do nothing but wait, and wait, and wait,
and then once we've waited, we will know no more then,
than we did before, what to do with our rage at the fuckery
of it all, and it is fuckery, for children are purest souls,
prior in existence to the picking of crows
that has caused the rest of us to inquire, inquire further,
inquire on why, with rage.