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We ran
From something
Unseen. We were
Two, a man and a woman

River flowed red
He is steel. And her tears
Bullets. We are
Bayonets and gun barrels

The earth flourished
With steel, straight statues
Of trees and undergrowth
A perennial memorial

Buried, we were
Under the earth
Meant to last forever
Meant to simply be

Red silence
Enveloped the world
My brothers...
Glided between the trees

Creatures joined
Those of all kinds, prowl
Across the land
Around their brothers

The earth split
We are the valleys. Gashes
Along the veins of the earth
Runs red like streams and fountains

Wounds dried and flaking
Freely beasts roamed
Lands demarcated
Trampled, trodden

We are echoes
Within the canyons. We stalk
Like spirits, like steel
Behind fervor, behind craze

They lost
Time was forgotten
Time was reclaimed
Remade

We do not know time
We do not sow
We do not reap
We do not see
We do not hear

The world is never silent
But the underground is

How would you feel
If you knew that
The world was hollow
Held up by rifles...
I am the original author of Red Silence. GuessWho2436 posted my poem with my permission.
Malia Nov 22
We ran
From something
Unseen. We were
Two, a man and a woman  

River flowed red
He is steel. And her tears
Bullets. We are
Bayonets and gun barrels  

The earth flourished
With steel, straight statues
Of trees and undergrowth
A perennial memorial  

Buried, we were
Under the earth
Meant to last forever
Meant to simply be  

Red silence
Enveloped the world
My brothers...
Glided between the trees  

Creatures joined
Those of all kinds, prowl
Across the land
Around their brothers  

The earth split
We are the valleys. Gashes
Along the veins of the earth
Runs red like streams and fountains  

Wounds dried and flaking
Freely beasts roamed
Lands demarcated
Trampled, trodden  

We are echoes
Within the canyons. We stalk
Like spirits, like steel
Behind fervor, behind craze  

They lost
Time was forgotten
Time was reclaimed
Remade  

We do not know time
We do not sow
We do not reap
We do not see
We do not hear  

The world is never silent
But the underground is  

How would you feel
If you knew that
The world was hollow
Held up by rifles...
Credit to my friend Trietsiy_P! I posted a poem by her before but it was under the name Orderwastery.
Justin Koellner Jan 2016
Everlasting momentum continues,

Spiraling out of control.

No thought for results, it projects.

figure in the distance.

Brakes.



Tender loving figure, teaching

Young to live.

    -  Pause

Heightened senses momentarily detect,

The Impending danger.

Manufactured oculus,

The last to witness.

Breaks.
Ellie Geneve May 2014
Guns, Rifles, Bombs, and Knives
Have taken away countless lives,

but all those mighty weapons cannot compete
with the one weapon, the true hurtful defeat.

Words.

Sharper than any knife.
So hurtful, that they may cause one to intentionally end their life

Because the worst kind of death is not that within the grave,
the worst kind of death is dying while still being alive

When you pray during every suicide attempt that you wont survive.

That, is when you know that you are already dead.

And that....

is the worst kind of death.

— The End —