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Cox Apr 2020
Orange Poppy.
Pull your gun.
Please, don’t look so glum.
Smile.
Pull your head up,
Tuck your chin.
Be the flower your mother taught you to be,
Before you sin.
Zack Ripley Mar 2020
A knife. A gun.
These instruments usually inspire
One feeling. One thought. Fear. Run.
But for some people, it could inspire
A completely different thought.
"Just one."
"One slice. One bullet. No more pain.
No more voices in my head
Driving me insane.
It's amazing. One is such a small number, but it can change so much.
One slice. One bullet. One kiss.
One hug. One touch.
All it takes is one person to say
"I love you. I care."
Be that "one."
See how much of a difference you can make by saying "if you want to talk, I'll be there."
Max Neumann Mar 2020
sarcous knuckles a fierce spirit
one in a ten; death is in it
corona breath like gun fire
hair made of killing barb wire

the saviors won't save you
death found you: fists will erase you
try to get away from
fingernails like razor blades

death is black death is white
made of day made of night
another round another fight
another fight another round

you can't escape them soundz
corona's words are echoing
Today is a strange day.
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
(a poem for Christina-Taylor Green, who
was born on September 11, 2001 and who
died at age nine, shot to death ...)

Child of 9-11, beloved,
I bring this lily, lay it down
here at your feet, and eiderdown,
and all soft things, for your gentle spirit.
I bring this psalm — I hope you hear it.

Much love I bring — I lay it down
here by your form, which is not you,
but what you left this shell-shocked world
to help us learn what we must do
to save another child like you.

Child of 9-11, I know
you are not here, but watch, afar
from distant stars, where angels rue
the evil things some mortals do.
I also watch; I also rue.

And so I make this pledge and vow:
though I may weep, I will not rest
nor will my pen fail heaven's test
till guns and wars and hate are banned
from every shore, from every land.

Child of 9-11, I grieve
your tender life, cut short ... bereaved,
what can I do, but pledge my life
to saving lives like yours? Belief
in your sweet worth has led me here ...

I give my all: my pen, this tear,
this lily and this eiderdown,
and all soft things my heart can bear;
I bring them to your final bier,
and leave them with my promise, here.

*

Published by The Flea, The Lyric, Copia Posterous, Elizabeth’s Ramblings, Legacy.com and Fullosia Press

Keywords/Tags: Child, beloved, lily, eiderdown, psalm, shooting, gun, violence, massacres, 9-11, evil, NRA, guns, war, wars, hate, hatred
Maja Feb 2020
Lock and Load,
with a heart heavier than the gun
with shoulders burdened,
with the weight of what is to be done
what is to occur
and after,
with a soul blackened
by the events that once were
Idk, just some dramatics
Vale Luna Feb 2020
I had a dream that I shot myself in the head
I collapsed in the driveway
And stared straight ahead
With tangible astonishment
Or palpable dread
Is this what it’s like to be dead?
I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead
Why am I still thinking? I’m dead.


I imagined everyone before me who’s died
And questioned if their brains
Also raced beyond the grave
If being buried dead was no different
Than being buried alive
But before I made up my mind
I awoke in a hospital bed
Breathing and thinking -- not at all dead

I reached up and touched the hole in my head
Rethinking the seconds I thought I had died
I cried, I cried, I cried
“Why did this happen to me?” I cried.
Not because of my actions
But because I had survived.
Prossnip42 Feb 2020
I've been rolling since I was born, without anywhere to go
Traded shots with the devil himself, and handed him my soul
I've got a shotgun across my back and a six-shooter in my hand
You better get your shot out first, cause I'll **** you where you stand

They tell when that rope's pulled tight, you'll beg'em to set you free
But I'll stare'em down in the eye, till they cut me from that tree
And I won't go down without a fight, cause i know i'm gonna die...

Hang'em High
Max Feb 2020
You loaded your gun with Ruin
Pointed it at the crowd and found me

Blame my luck, but you pulled the trigger.

The scars you left on my body is lesser yet than the taste of your Ruin on my tongue.

And I couldnt have asked for a better mentor to teach me the all the subtle intricacies of Hate.

For everytime I am reminded of your taste I
hate
hate
hate
Hate

Hate you

Hate me

HATE every single one like you
and me.

And with your gun you blew my soul to bits and left me in
Ruin.
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