It's Friday
It's pay day
It's time to go get me
Another AR-15
So I can go shoot the breeze
You can't tell me that it's wrong
The 2nd amendment has been around way too long
For you to croon your gun control song

Don't matter what you've got to say
When I've got the NRA on my side
Supporting MY life
But don't worry
If anything, you should be proud
Because the NRA says
No Regulations Allowed!

I don't get why you're so upset
I studied gun safety once
Eight years back
So I got your girl Teresa's back
No, like, I literally just shot her in the back
There's blood everywhere!
Don't scream, I'm telling you because I care

Oh, don't look at me like t h a t
Accidents happen all the time
I'm perfectly capable of handling this gun
You're just out to take me rights
And steal my fun!

Uhm, but forreal could you watch your tone?
I know you care about Teresa
But what about how I feel?
My masculinity isn't set to "criticism permitted" mode
It's on "gun control prohibited" mode
Say anymore and I'll have to go

I'm not gonna lie, the second amendment makes me come alive
Even as other people continue to die
I guess you could say I'm a real guy's guy

Anyways, just because Teresa got hurt
That doesn't mean that gun control would work
Why don't you just consult the CDC
You'll see, they'll side with me
And, no, it's not a funding thing
It's a freedom thing
If anything, you should be proud
Don't be shy, come along now
Support the NRA
No Regulations Allowed!

Shot down. The reason being who a person loves.
This is no longer a coincidence, violence seems to be a scene of a movie that nobody can seem to get over.
Shot down. Another reason being you and me are alive and breathing.
"**** happens" it's not an occasional occurrence to the person that loses someone.
Shot down for the main reason that some people don't understand that that no matter what, we can be sheltered for quite some time, but sooner or later we have to step outside and realize what's really happening.

Death doesn't discriminate
Quite frankly, He doesn't care
Once He's out of the barrel
Whizzing through midair.
Gay, straight, Lesbian or Bi
You have no control if you die.
But the finger that pulled the trigger
Now that's a different story.
But motives mean nothing to the family in mourning
This morning.
There's nothing you could say
or explain away that would bring comfort today.
If you told them it was religion or a hate crime
that doesn't give them any more time.
And it's the outpouring of speechless faces
Awestruck gazes
That should shake us awake
in every state from our state of denial.
These cold steel devices have become our vices
becoming our own rod of judgement in bringing "justice".  
A disagreement in lifestyle does not warrant a life.
If you feel offended, just turn the other cheek
And prevent tears from streaming down cheeks.
Death might not discriminate, but those who discriminate bring death.
Whether it's in the form of a gun
Or a loved one being shunned.
Life is precious and sacred
And if someone has it, you shouldn't take it.

Fear, pain and rage
Go into the words on this page

Of blood spilt
The lack of guilt

You hate this
You hate that

Grab a gun
Pull the trigger

People die
People cry

The world won't change
Life is a game

Pray you don't die
Tell yourself that lie

Sad isn't it
To be ruled by hate

To destroy and smother
Others

Blood on the street
But no ones cleaning

Hiding behind the scenes
On computer screens

Opinions flow
But they will never

Fill the holes
In hearts or the dead

America please
End this disease

The crass
This **** act

Love is love
Stop this violence

No more silence
Screaming sirens

Begging
For this pain to end.

another bullet fired
another one killed
how am i supposed to react?
do i write a speech on gun control? do i condemn a gunman's actions i could never fathom?
should i think of the ones who won't live to see another day?

another gun loaded
another life scarred
let me write a Facebook post about the victim
let me take a deep breath and articulate my feelings
and wonder why a young woman who was living her dream have to die in front of her brother and fans

Surrounded by mud
our feet make love to the surface
                                                        the bullets kiss us, the bayonets hug
                                                      our intestines.....

                                         The blankets
                                        cuddle with our cold, decaying corpses

we write to our wives, letters that will never be delivered

                    the wet ground gives our feet an unpleasant present
                    in the form of gangrene,

the rats  make themselves at home,

feasting upon the rotten
                                 flesh of fallen comrades.....

the maggots make use
of newly formed skulks and aged decaying bone

                                         then comes the symphony of artillery....

    the roar of gunfire, the marching of tanks
                                                    the mighty foot soldiers, and
                    the majestic golden smoke of mustard gas

          the trenches become our unwanted love
         and our unholiest of homes......

"The tears do not shed
the blood does not spill, and the soldier does not die"
is the common the battle cry sung upon us


            these bitter notes of blind fate forever sing to us
                                          

                                               the illusion of life and the irony of war.....

We blame ourselves
not knowing why
there is blood in their eyes.

We wear red welts
and bluish bruises
but hurt even more inside.

Is it their lies or ours
that justify the scars
on our still beating hearts?

In comes nose runs,
and endless fountains of tears,
with an eternity of fear
that says please don’t let me
live this way.

We internalize their mistakes
looking out at the world,
believing that we are weak,
so we do not speak of such things.

Sometimes, we come out alive
on the other side of that life.
Sometimes, their rage becomes ours.
If we are lucky we learn
to take our pain and turn
it into compassion and purpose.

Still, we are always on the verge
of something unknown
fires un-shown
children stuck between
fully and half grown.

There is violence
In this silence
In the words that you don't speak

Accusation
In excommunication
That lasts for months and weeks

The slickness of a blade
pressing against a throat....
the cold steel meeting tender flesh
blood drips and a body tumbles

the taste.... the sight... the sound....
all quite euphoric.....

Ripped clothes, smashed items,
echo screams, and the raging fires that glow throughout the night

The beauty.... the savagery.... the destruction
all quite euphoric....