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Sam Steele Apr 16
Another gun, another shot, another bullet flies
Another place, another wound, another person dies

Another paper’s headline, another claim of disbelief
Another time of sorrow, and another family’s grief

In the aftermath of ******, it’s another call to prayer
Another prelude to inaction in a land that doesn’t care

I pray that we can live a life devoid of death and fear
I pray to stop the slaughter in this barbaric atmosphere

I pray the hate stops flying.  I pray the threat soon ends
I pray for all my children; I pray for family and for friends

I pray for love, I pray for hope, I pray the killings cease
I pray for you, I pray for me, I pray for lasting peace

Though God may have the upper it’s not God’s hand on the gun
Give a weapon to a demon and a wicked deed gets done

We have armed the devil’s legions, and oh how he is smirking
It’s time to change the gun laws. It’s clear the prayers aren’t working
Man Mar 11
olive green
tight fitting garbs
drab and mean
old men who jaw
we're a caravan
of death
we march to a beat
of bullets let
i'm running far first chance i get

christ, i'm in the army now
Blueberries blossom-trees,
Clouds made of soap-bubbles,
Creamy grass and foamy bushes
Of roses blue, purple and grey,
Grapes of red and Orange,
Wines of crystal clear greens,
Red-irises to tell of feelings
Too hot or too sad
Burning hues in a phtograph back home,
Where I don't want to go;
Chariots dragged by stallions
And spaceahips to take us to explore
Other natures...
No poverty, no suffering...
No twisted games,
Just peace...
Guns not allowed here.
Kymie Oct 2020
I’ll forever remember your hands
as they slide along the smooth metal.
Like an extension of a part of you
that you have touched a million times.
A directed movement without intention;
But filled with intensity.

Your stance conveys a confidence
that is absent in the life you inhabit.
You pretend to be human
until you step into this sanctuary.

This church where you worship is one of
bullets and defiance.
I close my eyes and I can smell the
gunpowder and sin that is uniquely you.
The commandments of this God
are etched on your mind.
Procedure drips from your skin like sweat.
You bleed accuracy and precision.

As you breath in the sites
I can see that you have settled.
Your universe has narrowed to
the target in front of you.
Five feet or a thousand
There is no difference.
The round is a slave to your movements
Your very will dictates his beginning and end.

When your finger squeezes the trigger
I know I have lost you.
The recoil is a natural motion;
Compensated for at birth and dismissed;
like breath expelling from your lungs.

I find that I am jealous of the trust you
have put in the round that has just left you.
You know where it is going;
And you show no surprise when it
follows your instructions exactly.

How could I ever understand you
the way this object does?
Inanimate to me;
But essential to you.
She is the wife;
And I the mistress.
For I may yet learn your mind;
But I can never inhabit your soul.

14OCT2029
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
War is Obsolete
by Michael R. Burch

War is obsolete;
even the strange machinery of dread
weeps for the child in the street
who cannot lift her head
to reprimand the Man
who failed to countermand
her soft defeat.

But war is obsolete;
even the cold robotic drone
that flies far overhead
has sense enough to moan
and shudder at her plight
(only men bereft of light
with hearts indurate stone
embrace war's arctic night).

For war is obsolete;
man's tribal gods, long dead,
have fled his awakening sight
while the true Sun, overhead,
has pity on her plight.
O sweet, precipitate Light! —
embrace her, reject the night
that leaves gentle changelings dead.

For each brute ancestor lies
with his totems and his "gods"
in the slavehold of premature night
that awaited him in his tomb;
while Love, the ancestral womb,
still longs to give birth to the Light.
Which child shall we ****** tonight,
or which Ares condemn to the gloom?

Keywords/Tags: war, children, violence, guns, war and peace, destiny,  god, gods, brute, brutality, ******
joel jokonia Apr 2020
Shoot one in the air.
Scare the birds away.
Sometimes you feel like something or someone is taking away what is yours, what you love but you don't have the power to fight. But you Might not realise the war is already won cause just when you take one shot, your problem disperse like scared birds
Wither Bloodfall Apr 2020
You would never know me
Until you endured
Ludicrous hours of gunshots
Bombshells dropping
Soldier wailing
And metal clashing
The isolation that was chain up around me
Engulfing my very existence into a void flooded with filtered silence
Constantly changing, consistently growing
Louder
Sharper
Fiercer
Growing
More and more
Till i cried once more
A silent scream
Within a dream
Under a bunker under a war
Where no one thought a child was stored.
You would never know me
For the monster i was born.
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