The Fury of Fury

[addy]

I enjoyed this one jack... the way you've given self-awareness, context and atmosphere to what could easily have been written as a rant poem made for a really interesting read. There were a few points that imo needed to be hammered out a little, but this is quite good and I love its idea

"To the last, I grapple with thee; from hell's heart, I stab at thee; for hate's sake, I spit my last breath at thee." - Herman Melville, Moby Dick

my nana thinks I'm too hateful.
over lunch at the baker's a fortnight ago,
as she sipped her coffee
and I my orange cola, I love these two lines. It's so subtle but speaks so much about the personalities and the relationship
conversation turned to the British underclass.

(outside on the street and between the tables
life continued. An endless revue of prams
and wheelchairs, petty arguments, true love.) I'm conflicted... I really do love this bit by itself, but perhaps it's too much of an aside, especially the last line. From an objective POV, it delays the poem from getting to the heart of its content which ought to snag the reader early on.

rising from the chintz bedspread
of my feminine restraint, I unleashed hell,
hushed and bitter, demons with fingers
on their lips poking pitchforks through windows. I do like the vibe from "demons...", but maybe you mixed images a little too much, I had trouble picturing it and was momentarily confused

in the world of my words the neighbour woman,
who I hear of a morning swearing at her kids,
beating up her new boyfriend
or else being beaten by him, is shackled in a carriage
on a ride through the gates of Dachau.

we finished our drinks
then walked the high street,
I trying to salvage some humanity. I really do like the contrast between the civility of the scenario and the brewing discontent that fuels the emotional landscape

I think she realised though
that this was all just passive rage, like car thieves
cursing their jailers, a tenant sticking pins into
a voodoo doll of his landlord. The last analogy is sound, but it seems a rather tepid way to end your poem, not quite cliche but something that can be expounded on or pushed further. Just imo.