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As grease
green as
shay near
beef where
action shot
her bear
that duty
ready deserved
honor and
criminal tied
worship then
in vain
seized fore
Philadelphia awaited
inner city
flight of
doves return.
An honor to Sylvia Young
Breeze-Mist Aug 2016
Some people say that mass shootings
Wouldn't happen if both sides had guns
They say that a vigilante crossfire
Can protect our nation's daughters and sons

To those people I will tell
A story told to me by my family
About a situation exactly like that
And what the true outcome would be

There was a woman, one of my cousins
From somewhere on my family tree
I've never met her, but my parents know her
And she is related to me

This young woman met a man
And eventually they were engaged
But what happened next definately was
Where things took a turn for the strange

See, my cousin decided to move four hours away
With her fiance once they were married
This would require her to change her job
And the responses to this were varied

In particular my cousin's boss
Had a rather bizarre objection
When she told him of this, he confessed
That, for her, he harbored an affection

My cousin, of course, moved anyways
Though she and her husband were very concerned
And they were shocked to find her boss stalking her
As into their lives he returned

So her husband went to the local sheriff
And told him what was happening
About how his wife's old boss followed them
To the point where it became maddening

The sheriff told him he would help
That he would look into what could be done
And he also said they'd be safer
If the man got himself a gun

So my cousin's husband did that
Learned how to fire a shot
Then one day the old boss met them
In an empty parking lot

The fighting escalated quickly
To tensions it had never reached before
The man pulled out his gun, and told his wife to run
Into the nearby Wal-Mart store

The boss had brought a gun as well
And this is the ending that I shall tell
A shot to the stomach and a shot to the head
By the end of the night, both men were dead
This story is actually (sadly) true. I've never met the cousin in person, but the older members of my family all know her. This story took place before I was born, but I always think about it when people say "both sides should've had guns!" in response to shootings.
gray rain Jul 2016
Let people believe
And let people not.
If they don't believe the same,
Don't let them be shot.

Be proud to believe,
Believe in Gods name.
Don't **** though
It's not a game.

Or is it a game?
God said 'do not ****'
So when that person you shot, drops
You went against Gods will!

Defying the Lord (Under what name you want)
Give them a gun
But they take the shot.
Gods game they will not have won.
Sorry if this offends just war shouldn'tbe supported by religion and yet people stillkill for oposing their religious views.
SassyJ Jul 2016
The butterfly flutters in the skies
looking for a mere complication
to a place where the sun smiles
below the daily mediocre waves
where all tunes same frequency
the multitude parades in lines
sinking in unproven priced lies
moving all along in a rollercoaster*

In upward current the levelled high
In downward demotion the trips
As we drool on the bonded chains
In upheaval of lame indecisions
Casting all there is and there is not
Must we sacrifice all we have got
The body that chooses to give and live
A soul in forests waiting to soar
A mind carrying more than it bears

On this holy ground that sink below
where faith is grass that withers
and hope is a rainbow that fades
The blooded paths painted in red
oozing confusion and utter misery
Shall we wait for the embellished heroes?
To teach us how to be and survive
Police bark and robots deployed to shoot
Civilians protest on injustice and inequality
we all beaker and peck the sainted patch

Humanity is our freedom and grace
a tapestry blended by colours and cultures
a oneness painted and screening liberty
The authentic texture of raw love and truth
tainted by patriotism and indocrination
Networks channel and harvest poor yields
whilst we beaker with heated controversies
*I, you, we all breath the same scented air
We are one.... the human race!
Kristine Dyer Jul 2016
They shot a lot of black men,
this year.

Men with power and uniforms.
They were shot, too.

Schools were bombed
bullets scattered
& teachers, like me, had panic attacks practicing
drills, imagining their students’ bodies
riddled with shrapnel.

& we argued about gun control,
racism,
immigrants,
walls.

Injustice permeated the coffee I drank to calm myself.
Sorrow waltzed along the edges of cheerful conversations
in the grocery store.


White men and women took to platforms,
insisting their version of justice could correct
the suffering.

No one really believed them.
Presidency became a mockery
Division made more clear.


Over three hundred died in Baghdad,

no one flew their flag.

Maybe we were tired of avatars with flags of nations other than our own.
all suffering.
Perhaps so much compassion was overwhelming.
It could be that skin color meant more than I thought.


The skin color I wore,
Light, spattered with freckles,
made my compassion a condescension.
--how could I understand?
L Marie Jul 2016
Crystal eyes,
Marble skin,
Charcoal locks,
Sculpted grin,
Painted lips,
Crimson red,
Rigid limbs,
Made of lead.

Rough laughter,
Rougher hands,
Straight posture,
As it stands,
Tall and strong,
Stubborn, yet fair,
No other could
Dream to compare:

You are you,
And I am I,
I see you and
You see my light
When I was dark
And felt alone
You were the star
That brought me home.

We are the same
Fiery orbs that light
The black skies
In the longest nights,
And you remind me
I have the same heart
As I fly to you,
Your shooting star.
Denel Kessler Jun 2016
I love you
like an eternally expanding universe
seen with the clarity
of a thousand Hubble telescopes
your swirling galaxies
artful nebula
tranquil skies
your solid core

I love you
in molten tongues
calling from the void
two nuclear souls
colliding
every atom undone
fused together
to make one

I love you
until the thread is cut
my free-falling light
so high on your atmosphere
reshaped by your gravity
a meteorite wish
sweet ashes
to your dust
*In Teutonic mythology, the soul is a star attached to the ceiling of the sky with a thread spun at birth by Fate, represented as an old crone.  Fate cuts the thread at the end of a life and the soul falls, becoming a shooting star.
Class is done today
Sanguinary dismissal
Sorrowful homework
The Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting broke my heart, as I know it broke the collective heart in this great nation,.  So sad the pain wasn't so great as to ban assault rifles.
Dornish Bastard Jun 2016
Tragedy seems unreal,
Like a foreign movie.
I'm only a spectator
Front row for reality.
I see the shooter, the victims.
A hundred hired to act.
Fake blood paints pavements.
The bullets are blanks.
…
*But the bullets pierce
And the blood is warm.
A hundred targets are found.
Few to recover from harm.
There won't be a 'cut!'
No take four or take five.
This is no movie.
A shot takes a life.
I don't know what to say.
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