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Gunning down horses, gunning down tails,
Gunning down archaic forces
That follow my nightmares through the eve
With its eye on my hilt and its back to its siege

I run and I run and I am never done
If I stop now, I stop for eternity
I lay waste on the Cimmerian horizon
And I drink to the gaps in my vision.

Fire crackles, sizzles like a tortured
Monk; Charcoal smoke lifts the air,
Turns the trees black and navy blue
As putrid smoke buries itself in my hair

The fire is my only hope now
I tell you they can’t see it
Their eyeless sockets will never know
And they’ll never find me here.
Kevin Hayes Nov 2018
Long time coming
Long time gunning

Man dead on the ground
the soul still running

Flamed too ashes
Like a cigar filled with tree

Flamed too ashes
So there’s no more misery

Atleast that’s what he thinks
But to his surprise

He’s got grave problems
On the other side.
Nigel Obiya Mar 2013
I urge that we make ourselves proud… of us
I urge that we go into and come out of these polls sober minded, responsible, uncorrupted, without ‘fight’ or ‘fuss’
I urge that a joyous feeling of an evolving nation moving forward be the only thing we can, in hindsight, say erupted… this upcoming Monday, the following Tuesday
I would like to state that a people gunning for peace in these coming days is the only topic I would like to be following in the news today
We should see what’s coming as the change of guard it is… and not as a dreaded doomsday
You may be black… I may be white, or vice versa… and that’s alright
We shouldn't even be asking ourselves “Who’s grey?”
I will vote with one heart for one country… my country
A country in which I’m confident can keep the peace, you see, we’re kind of good at this
I know this because we've had quite a bit of practice
I know this because deep down we all want to make peaceful transitions be the Kenyan way
I know, I hope… and whenever necessary, I pray
Happy voting.
jcc  May 2015
black on both sides
jcc May 2015
my alignment may be left,
but what i-m saying-s very right,
we-re always getting high,
but we don-t achieve new heights
i got this verbal glock locked and loaded,
so you know this whole audience in my sights

so our mind-frame may be the same plane,
but we-re on separate flights
day and night, the hatred b/t us blacks
rocks me the core
in school, we fail through
the easiest courses,
our reign in the motherland used to be so,
that the royal heir-s crown circulation
was tighter than most corsets

even back when they whipped the backs of
my ancestors,
when the blood was wet and coursing
modern day enslavement was being
set in motion and
some say to me,
"your cadence is like a ******,
stop trying to force it"

how so when i have this
rhythm and river flow
that can-t be found in faucets?
we lost it, our way has never been
the same since our civil rights gains
and tremendous losses, in the media,
were lawless monsters lacking a conscience

why do we only mention black people
in the illuminati talks?
i tell you what, i haven-t forgotten
that reagan ran iran-contra
man, it-s bonkers, crazy how we sold
our souls for a few dollars

black women twerking like they forgot
sarah baartman
ever since the 60s,
our growth has *******
we emerged as a race of progress,
but now all i see is problems

we aren-t erasing problems, right now,
we are a race of problems,
now how we gonna solve em
when the ink scars go deeper than
the reach of solvents?
racists beat me and embarrassed me,
but that just made me stronger,
so how you gonna rain on my parade
then expect me not to blossom?

we wanna be ******, hoes,
pimps, jump-offs, and playas,
funny how we didn-t get out
slavery too long ago,
yet chains and whips still dominate us
***;? that song was not a coincidence

a black woman saying chains
and whips excite her?
no artistic freedom for our black artists,
authors, our writers?
iggy azalea can be all she can be
and still be a "great writer"?

that couldn-t have fooled me in the slightest,
the highest risers and high officials are
working in the dark so heartless,
this proves that the worlds governed
by a power so awesome
i am just asking for protection from
premeditated arrangement of the "free" market

these arms races is the united states
and other nations displaying whose
bullets can go the farthest
this poem goes out to
the leaders and followers,
skeptics and believers,
the weak and fatherless
i hope this speech reaches the
rest of populous,
i-m a martyr, so let me
hang free for the audience

to me, this microphone is a living being
that i choke and never let breathe
but i-ll never let a mac-11 ever represent me!

i told my little cousin, “don-t you believe in
that ignorance you hear in the streets,
if you got a brain, you ain-t flippin' ye
or palmin' your heat,
and don-t you listen to all the
words you hear from elites

so if they are gunning for your head,
duck under the beam; so if they are
coming for your throne, civilly disobey,
don-t you let them take your seat,
“and once you-re in the race,” i told him,
“you better run on your hands
so you never see defeat.”

after i was done droppin' this knowledge,
this prolific deposit, he thought of
all the things i stated,
i told him, “our potential is far beyond the confines
of traps and the cages
so pool your wages and don-t conform
to the way the media portrays us”

so b/f you get the inclination
to declare that by my word choice,
i must be half white,
i-m pleased to let you know
that i-m black on both sides.
Anne Sexton  Feb 2010
August 8th
--And do not be indiscreet or unconventional. Play it safe.--

Listen here. I've never played it safe
in spite of what the critics say.
Ask my imaginary brother, that waif,
that childhood best friend who comes to play
dress-up and stick-up and jacks and Pick-Up-Sticks,
bike downtown, stick out tongues at the Catholics.

Or form a **** Club where we all go
in the bushes and peek at each other's ***.
Pop-gunning the street lights like crows.
Not knowing what to do with funny Kotex
so wearing it in our school shoes. Friend, friend,
spooking my lonely hours you were there, but pretend.
Mish  Jul 2011
Mish Jul 2011
this night has
      melted into too many
      casualties trying to reach the
edge of dawn
        where beaten voices
                  still believe in summer
                  dreaming about ages in the sun

w/ loaded gunning thoughts
tomorrow will never fade
                painted hands broke the ground
                stones reflecting off sapphire
                bombs always explode
at the most random times like
         when memory is sleeping..
           (my memory is wide awake)
& sometimes it screams so loud that I
can remember everything

what would it be like?
just a second of silence?
maybe it's like being thrown in that bomb of
gemstone safety..

smiles for yesterday,

          the future is running toward
          its own shadow:

a new song in this vein..
glass can Jun 2013
they want me to be serious, to take it seriously. To look at sunrises calmly and seize coals and watch over red-blooded, man-fueled wars about bravado, integrity, and land. To look at money, a simple representation of labor, and see what it drives other to do, to do for me.

to crush cigarettes and testicles under my boots,
to crawl through mud and barbed wire, smiling

with grit in my grimace
salt rolling, sweaty brows
twisted locks of dark hair
tobacco-brown spit, ground
and filthy, caked in mud
teeth bared like an animal
white eyeteeth crunching

Scorching earth where my feet touch down.
A cigarette put out on a tongue. No more talking.

They want me to see and that, in the dark of the night, in the light of the day, when the sun rises and sets, there is pain, always, elsewhere and everywhere. So I will not tarry or joke or be frivolous with the battered souls of others and to think, to think about applying anything I know, to run along with the vigorous social constructs they ask me to dissect and then revolutionize, because I am young, and I will sprint faster, against accusations, and only briefly.

They want me to look at the world like a runner looks at the red track,
with their toes and sinews coiled as hard as steel, a pinnacle of human
at the height of athleticism and possess the ruthlessness of a rabid dog
drool rushed into foam and mad from dehydrating, my brain swelling

with my hormone driven
red, hazy, athletic rage,
gunning my ambition
for some organization.


I will fight, yes, but I will not fight for a name on a card, shield, or building.
I will fight for the sake of fighting because I am contentious and I am wrong.

I side against hero and villain, because I am the ambiguity,
that languishes, resides in no-man's land, antagonizing both.

Being disliked in purgatory is sometimes more easy than chomping at the bit,
for blood and the power of cracking a black bull whip, so I can avoid this terrible avarice and corrupting beauty that comes with working hard, especially for the greatness
                        that I did not ask
                                       to be ****** upon me, while I wished to remain enigmatic.
KKM Apr 2015
tea leaves and a bowl of mints, you're craving a time that left you years ago, now you're seeing yellow every time you blink, but life's not a filter on dreams and if you keep eating pomegranates without salt it could be a problem, your fingertips are already purple from holding too much ice so what will happen to your insides? sparks eventually die out, fires do too, but sometimes they don't, they just take longer to forget and you can't cut flames and smoke with chainsaws like you try to do with your feelings so remember to hold your smile in place and climb every fence it takes for you to slowly learn your red painted constellated lessons
Viseract Oct 2016
Straight outta Ex Dee,
Crazy mother f@cker named Blatchy
Dropping sick beats, rolling hard in the backstreets,
Watch him roll dough as he hailin' a taxi,
Fancy f@cken suit, he's livin' in luxury

Fedora tipped-top on the tippy-top head
Gunning bad gangstas, better red than dead
Shooting spree, smilin' with glee
Don't wanna f@ck with a guy straight outta Ex Dee!
just for fun XD
Jessie  Nov 2013
Dear Cigarette
Jessie Nov 2013
Whenever I taste your sweet menthol on my lips,
I inhale the desirable into my lungs,
And I exhale the tragic out of my soul.
But in reality, I breathe in death disastrously,
Filling myself with chances of possibility,
Artful ideas of being successful and extraordinary,
Forgetting any remnants of how I feel honestly,
With wishes to destroy every lightweight dandelion seed
I planted within myself, easily whisked away by a breathless wind,
Pushing my inner horizon farther and farther down the skyline.
Every minty swirl of hazy exhaustion I release
Finds me additional pieces to my jigsaw masterpiece
Countless shapes and sizes available for me to lease
But only one is correct and allows me to cease
My everlasting journey to find what I need.
A finger flick on a flame lights up my brain,
Igniting passionate affection for creativity,
For building up my future full of sovereign devotion
To assurance and indisputable positivity undarkened,
A clear-cut, twinkling vision of self-affirmative action,
Establishing a reality only seen in my dreams, me, chosen.
I always view the future haphazardly,
If I’m not a scientist what the hell will I be?
I just want to do is create and inspire and explain me
Looking through scopes and writing down numbers is not enticing
And I need some sort of stimulus to keep my body sane and happy.
My whole life I’ve wanted to make an impact, a change
Just now I know how that’s going to make way,
I want to write, express, let others know they’re not alone,
And if that is unsettling, I’ll just let your mind be blown.
My ever-expansive appetite craves for adventure,
I yearn for travel, for maps, for experience, new cultures
The globe is my home and I want to unlock every door
So my thirst will be unsatisfied until you give me the key for more.
Now I’m not trying to move mountains, stop war,
I just ask for a peaceful border, for safe travel and legal cigars.
Our society is mesmerized with beauty and love
But we lack the propensity to settle down and be content with ourselves
And if we can’t covet ourselves, who are we to judge?
She’s a little sad, he doesn’t curse,
Who is anyone to say that they aren’t worth a poetic verse?
Without a simple change to the way we perceive, we’re held back –
We, ourselves, block the borders to love and to peace,
Gunning down possibility,
Wearing away the concept of wholeheartedly,
Only accepting work done effortlessly,
Forgetting the importance of personality,
Living systematically,
We need change.
Escape the man-made Inferno of what we call society,
Climbing up the ladder of knowledge and inquiry and creation
Until we reach the omniscient sun and the moon,
To the stars and beyond.
Sophie Woods Feb 2014
shes only 15 her whole lifes ahead of her
she hates school because the people there discredit her
her boyfriends tries to show thats not how it seems
but everyday she just gets lowered with her self esteem
he lets her know that every night will have a brighter day
she's even tried to overdose and take her life away
shes feeling hopeless there just sitting down beside her bed
then he takes his hand and places it beside her head
he tried to hold her but with every touch she still resists
and then he sees the scars that bury deep within her thigh
shes feeling numb he tries to beg and plead and ask her why
shes says this way i have control of pain i feel inside
nobody seems to get you you feel youre on your own
but listen pretty lady you dont have to be alone
so baby dont cut you can do anything just promise me baby you wont cut
i know your heart is hurting you think the road has ended
you may just feel that blade youre holding is your only friend
but baby dont cut you can do anything
just promise baby you wont cut again
the next day at school shes feeling better than the day before
even cracked a couple smiles as she walked through the corridor
but all that seemed to end as she dropped her books when she walked into class
and every student in the room just seemed to point and laugh
she wouldnt take it anymore
she sent her boy a text she said i love you with my body heart and soul
to death he thought nothing typed i love you then he sent it
by death he didnt know that she had literally just meant it
she ducked her next class ran home into her bathroom
thought to herself she wouldnt break her promise thatt soon 1 cut 2 cut 3 cut 4
the blood started dripping from the tub to the floor
her boyfriend had a feeling in his stomach that he hated
he followed it and ran down to her house he never waited
the front door was open he heard the water running
he stormed into the bathroom and he's heart just started gunning
he put her arm around his shoulder he just tryin to lean her back up
yelling out her name as he lays her beside the bathtub
he feels his whole world jusy took a hit from and avalanche
he screaming out so heavily somebody call an abulance
feeling mad angry like somebody let her on to this
her eyeballs are rolling drifting out of consciousness
thinking to himself why the hell didnt she just stop
at will the tears just keeping on rolling as they head to the hospital
paramedics rush her in doctor calls emergency
shes loosed a lot of blood the place is looking like a ****** scene
an hour later the doc walks over with a sour face
and says excuse for the words that im about to say
im sorry for your loss the boy just starts collapsing
his own girl his own world just took a crashing
saying to himself that its his fault and that he let it up
baby i thought you made a promise you would never cut
Lori Carlson Feb 2010
watching lightening
rip through the tenebrous sky,
anger-filled thunder scorns
the midnight hour.
We only came here to watch...
to breathe in cool night air.

I couldn't distinguish the shock
of your touch
from the wave of currents striking
the window of this sundance
crossing the blackened sky.

A feather-touch:
my lips, your lips, ours;
soft, seductive shivers.
Touches so electric,
we were unaware
of the youth-filled
dodge gunning
towards the embankment...
teen kisses, too innocent.

(They see our mirror image.)

In excited jolts,
like those of lightening raging
through the mountains,
we seek refuge
to thrill-seek
the precarious union
we are.
© 1994,  Iona Nerissa

All poetry under the names Lori Carlson or Iona Nerissa are the sole property of Lori Carlson.
Please seek permission before using any of my writings.
~Lori Carlson~

— The End —