29 July 2011


There are no reasons left to argue,
No means with which to fight.
Our stamina is gray-haired and gasping.
Our weapons are wrinkled and limp.
We tremble uneasy on broken shins,
10.30.2006 - Huntsville, AL
Image from if winter ends
Useless fists held up in vacant fury,
Battered and ignored.
Even the earth doesn’t remember
Why I hate you.

Our scars won’t bleed anymore.
They're tired too.
There’s no winner,
No trophy, no victor.
I just want you to know it was me.
You want my headstone to crumble.
Into never having existed,
Mix it with the dust of my bones
And blow them off into a wind
That no one remembers.

We can both console
Our lonely selves in loss.

Only the tiniest grin forms
At the old corners of my granite lips,
Thinking that at least,
We’ve done it to each other.

I got inspiration for this poem from a poem by Lolamouse and her poem Waiting for Petrichor. It's a very good angry poem that can't seem to be angry any more. What happens when anger is all you have? Or not anger, but just a need to fight? I've been digging some angry poems lately! Oh, the title and the picture are from Cold War ideals, namely the fantastic notion of Mutual Assured Destruction, which I guess did, maybe kinda work-since we're not destroyed yet.


  1. Ooh, you do anger well! I think everyone must be feeling cranky from the heat these days! Of course, I always blame hormones!

  2. You have an excellent poem scripted here and straight from your heart!! Enjoyed it!!

  3. my sister has been mad at me for sometime now. your poem broke it down to the tiniest piece like you knew my situation. great post!

  4. It's not really hot here, Mouse.

    @Nanka, thanks!

    @Fiery Red: Sometime-are you talking months there? or years? Sorry you're in that situation, but I am glad you like my poem.

  5. Great poem. My sister is angry at me all the time. I think I will send her your poem. Life is short.


  6. Thanks, Melanie. That made me laugh, but you're right. There's absolutely no time to be mad at your family.