King of the Anthill

Frustrated.
Small things push me to snap.
Inane details.
What color flowers?
One napkin or two?
"Someone" cares,
but I do not.
Nor do I think they should.

Never satisfied.
Perfectionist,
not in way others understand.
Doesn't entail silly things.
I laugh at absurdity.
Doctor demands thought,
and shortest route.

Impatience makes me inconsistent.
Prepare cage for beast,
whip goes to raging animal.
I shall not return to fury.
No bridge from work to fun,
none I see.
Their spirits worry me,
can't be entertained,
with that lurking.

Spoke with business ethics man,
over turkey dinner.
Wrote a book.
How prestigious -- I smile.
What model you take?
"Philosophers can't make decisions,"
so smug,
"different answers for different models."
So you have right answer?
"Umm."
As if making decision,
somehow better than not,
what of good and evil?
Better to do nothing,
then do wrong.
You forget your religion,
in your business.
As do I,
shown in this writing.

Easy to take joy,
in ministry with others like self.
When not,
and remain aware of reality,
there is none.
Not there to discuss beliefs,
there for free meal ticket.
Don't forget,
we are fathers and mothers,
feeding sons and daughters,
they are beautiful,
and have goodness,
if only they awakened,
they could grow.
But for now I sit feeding them,
talking to closed ears.

But worse,
language barrier.
If only spoke clear,
in their tongue as mine,
real connexion born.
Progress made.
Alas, I cannot.
So I grind my teeth,
mind panics,
heart hurts.
Nothing I can do,
but small, inane details.
Feel worthless,
for think I'm worthless.

Creeping desire,
to destroy something,
out of fury.
Wish to do what I did,
hit bag,
till knuckles bleed,
and meat grinds,
skin peels, grit teeth.
Exhale deep and raspy,
eyes furrowed,
I wish to think no more now.
In hopes emotion is the result,
and thinking is condition.
As if modus tollens will save me.
Negate result, negate condition.
Knowing it is not result,
not a "then" from an "if,"
but mere concomitant.
Deep breath,
holding till long drawn out exhale.
It all goes back inside, subdued.
No where for bag,
makes me more infuriated.

No sense,
hurt one way does not remove another,
merely moves attention.
Try to tie down,
this irrationality.

I can do nothing.
And that's the lesson here.