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Deep Feb 2022
Take a gun
And shoot the one holding
the contrary view, with sword
Slice head and torso in two,
If that is not enough, dig graves and
bury them alive, dig it again give them
momentary light and life, then bury again,

Your view and perception are perfect,
you should not allow others to contradict you?
Odd Odyssey Poet Jan 2022
A leaf in the wind;
was falling in the rain
(such heavy rain)

It's despair,
the story of a kid
(such a common story)

Who fell away from their peers;
as it's so lonely to be brave.

As poverty's coin flipped over;
soon dead on it's head.
Chasing any chance of wealth;
going round in circles,
Chasing it's tail.

With a gun of six;
shot, shot, shot, shot, shot, shot!
The weapon of man's hand;
that only revolves around death.

And I'd still ask the Lord,
to shine on our worth;
Despite of us being at our worst,
never lose the light of earth,
as we keep shinning our torches.
Odd Odyssey Poet Nov 2021
A gun for hands;
bullets for fingers:

Words in lead,
violence in my pen;

And in the end;
the paper is dead.

A pen in the right hands,
is a dangerous weapon.
Nigdaw Oct 2021
if you were given a gun today
and told to fight for freedom
who would you shoot first
Nigdaw Oct 2021
I've fired a gun
felt it's rage
heat on my face
uncompromising
unstoppable decision
could I project
such inexorable
hate on another human
see them destroyed
by my anger
projected into their soul
Ylzm Oct 2021
Hidden deep in the galley at sea far from the front
Washing pans and floors and sometimes onions
Never a shot fired at nor its distanced boom heard
Now proudly badged, poor, unemployed, a veteran
Strutting in the town square openly carrying
Seeing fear and respect in mocking eyes
And gratitude in sneering smiles and sarcastic lips
But utter despair and pity to those that truly loved
Now old, lonely, far from those who once cared
Sharing truths on the net when away from Facebook jail
And calling out fake news with evangelistic fervour
But touch Trump, and even jihadists cow before his ferocity
Samir Mohammed Aug 2021
He said to my face
"You miss every shot
You don't take"
                                 And I replied
"I only have one bullet
And on it is your name."
selina May 2021
t/w: violence, death

-

dear little miss dreamer
i'm sorry i couldn't write to you sooner
but yesterday night, i've read all three
each and every one of your letters

your mother sounds lovely
a brave woman, from what you've told me
if your brother comes by downtown
tell him, he's welcome to visit me

you have some big dreams
and i hope i can help them come true
i'm sorry i've been so busy
but i would truly love to meet you

you remind me of my wife
of her dreams when she was your age
we grew up together in center city
like you, she was wise beyond her days

i agree, we need to help kensington
and we've begun taking some small steps
i'm pushing for a new bill to pass
but it'll still take some time to prep

i know you mentioned drugs and violence
and yes, i agree, it's completely true
please stay safe and stay inside
it could help protect you

actually, that just reminded me about kensington
my wife had told me some shocking news
a mother chased to her kitchen counter
a little girl, shot, in the same view

i think she was writing a letter, too
but i don't quite remember who exactly to
it was titled, i think, "dear mister life-changer"
wait, it couldn't be— no, God, please, not you—
this is the second poem that continues the story in the previous one. the congressman send his reply, but... it's a bit too late now
selina May 2021
please note: t/w: violence

-

dear mister life-changer
how have you been?
i know you never answer
but i wanted to try again

introducing myself for the fourth time
i'm a small girl with big dreams
my dad walked out when i was real young
my mum hopes i'll have an easier living

i'm in kensington, philly
it's not a nice place to grow up
with drugs, gangs, and guns
my older brother once even got mugged

i'm writing from my little closet
my mum said it's for me to be safe
but i hate being alone in this place
it's such a small, empty space

a couple of gunshots outside
it's like this every other night
brother's not home right now
but i sure hope that he's alright

there's a clicking noise
it doesn't sound very nice
i hear footsteps down the hall
they're not mum's, they're too light

mister life-changer, i think that might be my brother
he told me you could make things right
but why don't you ever write back to me?
why don't you ever reply?

i want to tell you my dreams
i heard you can make them come true
just give me one chance, sir
it's worth it, i'll show you

i dream of a big wide world
where i can walk outside and not be afraid
a world big enough for every little brown girl
to skip down sidewalks and enjoy the day

i hope to move to the suburbs
buy a big house for mum one day
buy her leather bags and pretty dresses
and not a single cent she'll have to pay

-

dear mister life-changer
i'm sorry there's blood on this paper
mum's bleeding out in the kitchen
someone shot her at the counter

mister life-changer
they told me to wait
i called the life-savers
they said, just wait

i don't know what to do
so now i'm back to writing to you
will you ever make a change?
will you tell me to wait, t—
wrote this poem that's a bit like a letter. context: a little girl living in kensington, philly, one of the most dangerous places in philadelphia, writes a letter to the congressional representative of her district. it's cut off at the end, and if i could, i would have added the sound effect of a loud gunshot. i think you would then understand how the story in this poem ends...
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