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Al Jun 2016
i'm trembling on the inside
because the hope right here has yet to die
and as i shake, my arms go numb
i let it go and drop my gun—
and as it falls, you shoot me.
and i'll follow after you no matter how many times you'll hurt me
Crysta Gingras May 2016
For into the battle we ride
Screaming at the top of our lungs
Each matching the other’s stride
As the enemy fires their guns
For honor
For pride
We wage our crusade
For hope
For love
We are not afraid
The ice in your eyes
Stops our enemy cold
To stand against you, unwise
For no prisoners you hold
The fire burns in my soul
Leaping forth across the field
Blazing without control
Our enemy forced to yield
Together we outclass them
They cower and shake
We thrive in the mayhem
They struggle not to break
Do mercy we show our foes
Or fierce coldness to display
It may come again to blows
Until then our blades we stay
To each other we look
Our eyes soften for the gander
Like a story out of a book
Especially for a bystander
This battle was not easy
Nor will it be the last
So I reach to kiss you sweetly
Before the calm can pass
For my angel
Chase Elsner May 2016
Bang!!!!!
Another silent gunshot falls on deaf ears
Draining one man of his life and another of his humanity
It’s a good thing it was a fair trade

The theory of equity dictates that only objects of equal value can be traded
This is proven in the taking of a life

When a gun is fired the one who shoots loses himself inside the bullet
Putting his soul into the destruction of another
The soul is then used to cancel out the soul of another

A soul for a soul is fair
The theory of equity is not

Will’s theory of contract law is a theory that dictates a contract can be made if both parties agree
If one party is a gun and the other the shooter then a contract is offered
The offer consists of one party carrying a soul in order to decimate the shell of the holder
When its terms are carried out a soul and a squirming carcass are found broken like shards of crystals

A soul for a shell is fair
Will’s theory is not

The theory of an implied contract is that an agreement can be formed informally and swiftly where both parties understand the terms without them being expressly stated
If a person is involved in gang related activities then they know that when a rival gang appears no one will walk away
The offer is swift and signaled by one of the parties drawing the .45 caliber firearms and it is accepted when the other group fires

A gang for a gang is fair
Implied contracts are fair

It’s a shame life isn’t
The theory of life is that **** happens and you’re supposed to go on like nothing else matters
The theory of life is that we stand by as obligatory witnesses to events that destroy the people who we are and who we were
The theory of life is that no matter what happens we are not allowed to bend the rules around the only two truths that we have or will ever experience
The theory of life is that we will also have to live with the theory of death

Why is it that the theory of life is the same as the theory of death?
Because they are equitable they must be of equal value
Because we either breathe or not we have agreed to one
Because no one will explain what either one is, it is implied

The theory of life and death is that in the end there is nothing left
The theory of life and death is that you can exist freely in either
The theory of life and death is that you can never exist in both
The theory of life and death is that you are nothing if you’re seen from the other plane
The theory of life and death is that you are nothing

The truth of nothing is that we have no control
The truth of nothing is that we are nothing

Bang!!!!!
Another silent gunshot falls on deaf ears
Draining one man of his life and another of his humanity
It’s a good thing it was a fair trade
Grey May 2016
You look me in the eyes and spit,
          And I kick dust on the wet spot on the ground.
This is how we are, a conversation; you never cared to call me something like my name.
           I never cared to see you in any way but under my boot with blood on your teeth.
               There is no moon above us, even when the sun’s gone to hide at the nearest bar.
This is not a war that can be won with pickets and strikes.
The only way to end the battle
                                                Is that someone has to die.
        A standoff only ends when one is left standing, it’s the rules,
but you never did care for rules, and breaking is easier than bending.
               You never apologize and I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth.
            The sun’s gone to hide at the local bar and it drinks whiskey shots like water.
It has seen us fight.
            The moon doesn’t want to come out, stays tucked safe in its bed.
It has heard stories.
                         Only the stars act as referee, calling out which one of us died better.
            It’s all an act, a ******* contest, and you sure are good at wetting the ground.
                 I’m better at covering up where the bloodstains were,
                         stain chicken feathers red as the sunset, Please, I ask you,
Let him win one last time.

                               The hourglass broke, the sand mixing with the red clay,
And you claim to know that his time is up.
                 I claim to know that you’re a lying ******* who takes what isn’t his.
                        And you claim that I’m just a child,
                                           but children don’t know why their knuckles are
bleeding
                                           and children don’t get why their jaws hurt
                                           and children only bleed when summer is restless
                                           and children never pull real guns anyway.
          You brought a knife to a gunfight,
                 a gun to face the firing squad, a one child firing squad,
                    knees stuck together with blood and chicken feathers.

Please, you ask me,
Let me win one last time.

                     And I learn that breaking is easier than bending;
And I learn how my name sounds on your lips.
Pauline Morris Apr 2016
Late one evening on a stroll
I was feeling mighty droll
I came to the big open meadow
And decided to sit down and mellow

There was nothing but grass for miles to see
Nothing at all but this one tiny bee
He looked in a great hurry
He's wing's buzzed with a mighty flurry

So me being me
I decided to fallow and see
He ziged and he zaged
I tried hard not to lag
At the top of a small hill crest
Is when I seen all the rest

On one side the bees, the other side the butterflies
And right in the middle their prize

It was the only one left
Frost had taken all the rest
It was tattered and torn
But it's beauty none could scorn
For it had stood times test
It had been stronger than the rest

It had been pearly white
Such a beautifully gourges sight
Now a dingy gray
It's nectar still as sweet as that very first day

And that's what started the war
That one little flower is what they where all here for
The big strong bees
Thought they could bring the butterflies to their knees
The fragile brightly painted butterflies
Behind their backs had a big surprise

The bees flew in first, stingers at the ready
Their stingers polished and sharp, flight was steady
The butterflies spread wide their colored wings
Hiding behind them their evil means

The first bee to the flower was shot down
I watched it spiral and hit the ground
That was it, all out war
All those flying fighting insects shook me the core

The bees had brought knifes to the butterflies gun battle
All I could hear was buzzing and tiny gun fire crackle
The air was a sea of colorful wings
And the yellow and black with the wings that sings

The bees were out powered
With the guns the butterflies advanced on the flower
The bodies of bees soon littered the ground
And when it was all over, it was sad what was found

The poor flower had been beaten down
It was laying with the dead bees on the ground
The butterflies realized the war had been for naught
For neither side would get what they want

But the butterflies had tasted power
They forgot about that little flower
So if in your town the bees are despairing
Then know the butterfly revolution is nearing
Viseract Apr 2016
I'm sorry
Sorry I couldn't save us
Save myself
Save you

I'm sorry
I guess I'm not your saviour
Wasn't prepared
A little scared
And I tried

Oh I tried
You held the gun
Pressed it to my chest
Thumbed the hammer

I hadn't the strength
I couldn't fight anymore
So I raised my hands in surrender
And all I heard was the shot ring out

And all I felt
Was disappointment
As I hit the floor

And all I saw was red
And I guess my body bled
But all I felt was disappointment
J Nc Mar 2016
.36
His old mare cantered into to town
The covered wagon followed
A boy's first trip to town alone
He took it in, and swallowed

Penny candy dreams last night
And sarsparilla floats
The ladies' parasol fineries
The men in pinstriped coats

Perhaps a whiskey, what the hell
Today he was a man!
But first the livery stable for Brownie
For oats and a water can.

The .30-30 saddle gun would come with him, of course.
He also grabbed the belted Colt from the pommel of his horse.

The warped board sidewalks led past stores
His worn boots clopped along
He strapped on the .36 Navy Colt revolver
And fastened down the thong

He clopped down to the first saloon
Laid his rifle on the bar
A sporting girl sat next to him
With the unlikely name of "Star"

"A milk for the lady.
Myself as well,
Barkeep, if you please!"
A cowhand howled out raucous laughter,
Flipping up Ms. Star's dress, to well above her knees

"That little pup, he wants some milk
So Star, give him yer ****!
I'll bend him over, spank his ***
And then give YOU a treat!"

The young man's vision doubled, trebled,
The shame clear on his face
As tears welled up in big blue eyes
A witness in every soul in the place

"Aw, the little ***** is bawling! WAH!"
The cowhand bellowed out
And all false mirth left his expression
And he gave the boy a clout

The boy just sat and sobbed and watched
As Ms. Star joined in the joke
But cowhand was already 3 bottles in,
In a flash, her nose was broke

Cowhand reached across the boy
To grab that sweet, sleeved rifle
The boy grabbed cowhand's wrist just then
And twisted it just a trifle

A yelp and howl from cowhand's mouth,
"YOU BROKE MY ****** WRIST!
NOW you're ******, you little sprat"
He took a swing, and missed.

Red faced, clumsy, humiliated
He drew leather on the boy
Dead to rights, he had the kid,
He realized, with grim joy

An explosion, a thump, on warped pine floor
Blue smoke curling in the air
Utter, vapid, vacuum silence
Patrons cemented to their chair

The tears were gone from those blue eyes
Blue steel as his gaze fixed
A hole had grown in cowhand's head
The size was .36
Inspired by "Don't take Your Guns to Town" by Johnny Cash and John Wesley Hardin
Zyanneh Frazier Feb 2016
I'm tired of having to tell somebody I care about or love to be safe all bc of this ****** up place I call home known as "killa city" yall starting to act like the next Chicago with nothing but violence now I see why momma never let us leave the house bc she wasn't trying to see her two sons & daughter end up in a casket all bc of the crime rates continue to keep rising
when will all this stop?
Another life was taken on February 15, 2016 the young man was only 15 years old right here in Kansas City, Mo when will this stop?
Zara Wolfe Jan 2016
I placed the roses you gave me
in a vase on my bedside
unaware of the pistol
you placed in my mouth
until I pricked my tongue
on a thorn.
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