#connecticut - Hello Poetry

I already have certain years that constitute my life CT, MA to NY All the tiny things I did Shape me into this version of me Writing on a laptop at night Yes, I feel like I have seen enough things Done a lot, good at being broken- hearted Maybe could've broken more hearts. Truth is, probably not. I learn to accept fate as they come Yes, sometimes I try to veer it towards the way I want But life is never about Achieving what you want Rather, use the things you got And turn it into everlasting , mesmerizing Splendid sparks. Am I cheesy being only 26? Or you're sneering at me, Ha you're not that young? I look up for a sign and an inspirational quote To only see myself in the mirror smiling back and the past ghosts at the end of the tunnel He said he does not want a relationship I said I don't want my future baby to have ugly teeth He said he will marry me for a million But I said I don't want our baby to go to Harvard He said, ***** Harvard!What about Princeton?

0

Sep 26, 2018

Sep 26, 2018 at 12:14 AM UTC

maggieYCW

New England Summer

I already have certain years that constitute my life CT, MA to NY All the tiny things I did Shape me into this version of me Writing on a laptop at night Yes, I feel like I have seen enough things Done a lot, good at being broken- hearted Maybe could've broken more hearts. Truth is, probably not. I learn to accept fate as they come Yes, sometimes I try to veer it towards the way I want But life is never about Achieving what you want Rather, use the things you got And turn it into everlasting , mesmerizing Splendid sparks. Am I cheesy being only 26? Or you're sneering at me, Ha you're not that young? I look up for a sign and an inspirational quote To only see myself in the mirror smiling back and the past ghosts at the end of the tunnel He said he does not want a relationship I said I don't want my future baby to have ugly teeth He said he will marry me for a million But I said I don't want our baby to go to Harvard He said, ***** Harvard!What about Princeton?

29

If spirits can walk the earth after life ends, Or even before, to soar in flights unhindered By physics, let me dance then! To reel, arms out, on a vivid green lawn In a garden before a comfortable house, Where lush flowers grow and summer reigns, Touching rows of Constable trees that tower, emerald, And violet-shadowed even at noon or painted In twilight, soft before a rising moon. I would skip over roads and find that field That lies, protective, above the Connecticut, Watching as it winds lazily northward. Then, being sure that all is right, That the corn is tall and full, I would speed up to a rounded hill Above a Victorian barn in Leyden, Ten acres of rye grass for the cows. I would stand at the summit and gaze Far away, down the sleeping valley in its haze, To the little towns and glittering in The sun, my alma mater, towers Of attempted wisdom, of spires and dreams. Then I might then bathe in a little lake Where I once romped with friends After a wedding, **** and laughing While puzzled farmers watched and leered. As before I would flee to the river that wound Down between the hills, splashing through Pools in shade and sun, basking on smooth stone Whose marbled veins glow in the canyon light, Remnants of an ancient era, of pressure and time. Then on I’d go, bounding from one hilltop to another, Turning north from the cesium-laced Deerfield, Passing Vermont’s border to stroll the streets Of Brattleboro, Putney and Newfane. I might find a canoe and glide up the West River, Somehow floating above the rapids and dam, To rest on the flat water as the sun sets, Skimming lightly, watching the trout rise To sip dancing insects or hear the splash Of a bass as it flicks the surface with its tail. And then I would sit with the ones I love, Silently, breathing in the mist that rises As the sun slips below the hills; Sunset-colored, elliptical echoes Catch the low swells like waving glass. I would wait here until morning returns, Not ready to leave this beauty or the world.

0

Sep 8, 2018

Sep 8, 2018 at 12:09 PM UTC

sharon-talbot

If Spirits Can Walk the Earth

If spirits can walk the earth after life ends, Or even before, to soar in flights unhindered By physics, let me dance then! To reel, arms out, on a vivid green lawn In a garden before a comfortable house, Where lush flowers grow and summer reigns, Touching rows of Constable trees that tower, emerald, And violet-shadowed even at noon or painted In twilight, soft before a rising moon. I would skip over roads and find that field That lies, protective, above the Connecticut, Watching as it winds lazily northward. Then, being sure that all is right, That the corn is tall and full, I would speed up to a rounded hill Above a Victorian barn in Leyden, Ten acres of rye grass for the cows. I would stand at the summit and gaze Far away, down the sleeping valley in its haze, To the little towns and glittering in The sun, my alma mater, towers Of attempted wisdom, of spires and dreams. Then I might then bathe in a little lake Where I once romped with friends After a wedding, **** and laughing While puzzled farmers watched and leered. As before I would flee to the river that wound Down between the hills, splashing through Pools in shade and sun, basking on smooth stone Whose marbled veins glow in the canyon light, Remnants of an ancient era, of pressure and time. Then on I’d go, bounding from one hilltop to another, Turning north from the cesium-laced Deerfield, Passing Vermont’s border to stroll the streets Of Brattleboro, Putney and Newfane. I might find a canoe and glide up the West River, Somehow floating above the rapids and dam, To rest on the flat water as the sun sets, Skimming lightly, watching the trout rise To sip dancing insects or hear the splash Of a bass as it flicks the surface with its tail. And then I would sit with the ones I love, Silently, breathing in the mist that rises As the sun slips below the hills; Sunset-colored, elliptical echoes Catch the low swells like waving glass. I would wait here until morning returns, Not ready to leave this beauty or the world.

48

#Qui Transtulit Sustinet There sat CONNECTICUT, a twit blue nanny-state, and doomed to sit on welfare-warrens of the ****** her social service on demand. She withers on NEW ENGLAND‘s vine a bygone has-been, and a sign of democratic overkill where her once-dear and verdant rill now stagnant flows: polluted stream a moribund New England dream. The richest state with poorest heart: the Northeast’s saddest story. Part of history’s renowned revival, now irrelevant. Survival chains her children in dependence keeping back the state’s ascendance. Apostate Puritan, grown old— for LIBERTY, no longer bold; a slave to Man, where once God’s WORD awakened greatness. Souls were stirred in ENFIELD (of all strange places), Christ beheld in radiant faces . . . Edwards held their spellbound souls like spiders over flaming coals, in gratitude for Gospel grace renewing thus both town and race. But I digress. Connecticut is what I came to speak about: forgotten dull colonial matron yoked in failure, plebe as patron nostalgic for her Charter Oak whose deadwood limbs went up in smoke along with dark tobacco wrap while the plantation took a nap. Her social programs overgrowth pose forest fire-risk. Under oath her public servants signal virtue; sign which really should alert you to the democrat-machine’s impending failure (ways and means). Nutmeg-addled Tax-and-spenders, dollar drunks on welfare benders widen economic rifts; force single moms toward double shifts while Latin Kings hold court in prison waiting out their royal season: fiscally unsustainable— yet totally explainable (nutmeg is a drug for witches spendthrift warlocks, bankrupt ******* Oh HARTFORD, city of the dead which dies at five, then home to bed, insurance once assured your rise; but now your ghosts haunt sadder skies. Your life displaced, outsourced, out-dated; so, it seems, your fall was fated. Meanwhile, close to New York City, fairer fields are growing pretty long on corporate commutes. Data-driven growth computes as data-drivers flood the roads and enter by Manhattan-loads from golden coasts’ Atlantic shores and posh patrician golden doors to bite the apple of our time: a number-cruncher built on crime. New England’s puritannic granny (data-driven tyrant ****** seeks to harbor tropic isles with blandly bureaucratic smiles. Your poor dear heart cannot afford to welcome every island lord who looks to better his estate and so decides to emigrate. Displaced Jamaicans outta yard compel the soft verse to get hard. Boricua separatists, dispersed show nationalities reversed and dwell between two foreign lands in Spanglish no one understands. Such nutmeg gets the covens high to soar the stormy Liberal sky. It’s Yankee hubris: condescension taxing plebes for such dissension. Though you connect, there I would cut, excising from New England’s gut metastasizing social tumors: clueless and obese consumers, teenage moms, pajama-clad whose nenes wait in vain for dad. QUI TRANSTULIT SUSTINET—truth . . . but that was was in our nation’s youth. She’s gotten worse with passing years confirming citizens’ worst fears; showing her colors every vote her monotone, a droning note on which the blue-bloods hang their hue when hope and change are overdue. Her atheist zeal meets Yankee pride: a most progressive broomstick ride; oblivious to her Christian past, an enemy of God at last.

0

Apr 9, 2018

Apr 9, 2018 at 10:40 AM UTC

connecthook

Nutmeg Harvest

#Qui Transtulit Sustinet There sat CONNECTICUT, a twit blue nanny-state, and doomed to sit on welfare-warrens of the ****** her social service on demand. She withers on NEW ENGLAND‘s vine a bygone has-been, and a sign of democratic overkill where her once-dear and verdant rill now stagnant flows: polluted stream a moribund New England dream. The richest state with poorest heart: the Northeast’s saddest story. Part of history’s renowned revival, now irrelevant. Survival chains her children in dependence keeping back the state’s ascendance. Apostate Puritan, grown old— for LIBERTY, no longer bold; a slave to Man, where once God’s WORD awakened greatness. Souls were stirred in ENFIELD (of all strange places), Christ beheld in radiant faces . . . Edwards held their spellbound souls like spiders over flaming coals, in gratitude for Gospel grace renewing thus both town and race. But I digress. Connecticut is what I came to speak about: forgotten dull colonial matron yoked in failure, plebe as patron nostalgic for her Charter Oak whose deadwood limbs went up in smoke along with dark tobacco wrap while the plantation took a nap. Her social programs overgrowth pose forest fire-risk. Under oath her public servants signal virtue; sign which really should alert you to the democrat-machine’s impending failure (ways and means). Nutmeg-addled Tax-and-spenders, dollar drunks on welfare benders widen economic rifts; force single moms toward double shifts while Latin Kings hold court in prison waiting out their royal season: fiscally unsustainable— yet totally explainable (nutmeg is a drug for witches spendthrift warlocks, bankrupt ******* Oh HARTFORD, city of the dead which dies at five, then home to bed, insurance once assured your rise; but now your ghosts haunt sadder skies. Your life displaced, outsourced, out-dated; so, it seems, your fall was fated. Meanwhile, close to New York City, fairer fields are growing pretty long on corporate commutes. Data-driven growth computes as data-drivers flood the roads and enter by Manhattan-loads from golden coasts’ Atlantic shores and posh patrician golden doors to bite the apple of our time: a number-cruncher built on crime. New England’s puritannic granny (data-driven tyrant ****** seeks to harbor tropic isles with blandly bureaucratic smiles. Your poor dear heart cannot afford to welcome every island lord who looks to better his estate and so decides to emigrate. Displaced Jamaicans outta yard compel the soft verse to get hard. Boricua separatists, dispersed show nationalities reversed and dwell between two foreign lands in Spanglish no one understands. Such nutmeg gets the covens high to soar the stormy Liberal sky. It’s Yankee hubris: condescension taxing plebes for such dissension. Though you connect, there I would cut, excising from New England’s gut metastasizing social tumors: clueless and obese consumers, teenage moms, pajama-clad whose nenes wait in vain for dad. QUI TRANSTULIT SUSTINET—truth . . . but that was was in our nation’s youth. She’s gotten worse with passing years confirming citizens’ worst fears; showing her colors every vote her monotone, a droning note on which the blue-bloods hang their hue when hope and change are overdue. Her atheist zeal meets Yankee pride: a most progressive broomstick ride; oblivious to her Christian past, an enemy of God at last.

103

a handstand here shake but enlighten her that sink tanks with mats while driven leagues under the sea dissolve a seance with earthly her satellites only survey pride that behold riff in scholar that best compose symphony and virtueless connect the dots

0

Aug 22, 2017

Aug 22, 2017 at 6:38 PM UTC

poetman

sub

a handstand here shake but enlighten her that sink tanks with mats while driven leagues under the sea dissolve a seance with earthly her satellites only survey pride that behold riff in scholar that best compose symphony and virtueless connect the dots

6

(Tune: “Londonderry Air") Here in the vista of three hundred years we stand, Our torches kindled by thy guiding light. A Pilgrim host, we come to thee from every land, With joyful hopes, well girded by thy might. Connecticut, beloved State, all hail to thee; Tower of might against a flaming sky, The heav’ns resound with praise, ring out with victory. God speed you on and all your glories sanctify. Through summer heat and winter cold thy honor stands, A bulwark gainst the mighty hosts of sin, Till love shall spread to earth’s most distant island strands, And Heaven’s righteous ways o’er evil win. Connecticut, advancing through the changing years, May knowledge guide thy sons and daughters fair, And honor, truth and wisdom banish all our fears, Connecticut, while we thy many glories share! The years shall pass across thy mighty mountain walls, Against the gold of every setting sun, A newer host, well-born within thy ancient halls, Shall bear thy standards of new glories won. Connecticut, our fathers kept thy honor fair, Thy reach of love they widened to the sea. We shall keep faith, where they fought; we, too, shall dare, Connecticut, for aye we pledge our hearts to thee.

0

Jan 7, 2017

Jan 7, 2017 at 9:00 AM UTC

connecthook

Ode to Connecticut

(Tune: “Londonderry Air") Here in the vista of three hundred years we stand, Our torches kindled by thy guiding light. A Pilgrim host, we come to thee from every land, With joyful hopes, well girded by thy might. Connecticut, beloved State, all hail to thee; Tower of might against a flaming sky, The heav’ns resound with praise, ring out with victory. God speed you on and all your glories sanctify. Through summer heat and winter cold thy honor stands, A bulwark gainst the mighty hosts of sin, Till love shall spread to earth’s most distant island strands, And Heaven’s righteous ways o’er evil win. Connecticut, advancing through the changing years, May knowledge guide thy sons and daughters fair, And honor, truth and wisdom banish all our fears, Connecticut, while we thy many glories share! The years shall pass across thy mighty mountain walls, Against the gold of every setting sun, A newer host, well-born within thy ancient halls, Shall bear thy standards of new glories won. Connecticut, our fathers kept thy honor fair, Thy reach of love they widened to the sea. We shall keep faith, where they fought; we, too, shall dare, Connecticut, for aye we pledge our hearts to thee.

25

“Qui Transtulit Sustinet !” Motto of light! ‘Neath the folds of that banner we strike for the right; Connecticut’s watchword oer hill and o’er plain, “The Hand that transplanted, that Hand will sustain.” “Qui Transtulit Sustinet !” On the broad fold of Connecticut’s banner this motto’s enrolled, and flashed to the sunlight on mornings bright wings, A promise of glory and honor it brings, The promise of One who ne’er promised in vain, “The Hand that transplanted, that Hand will sustain.” Ay and surely it well has sustained us thus far, in peace and in plenty, in want and in war. When the foe has attacked us in battle array, Then Connecticut’s sons have stood first in the fray; And faith in that watchword inspires us again, For “He who transplanted will ever sustain!” And now, in the darkness of treason’s black night ‘Neath the folds of that banner we strike for the right! For the RIGHT ! ‘Tis OUR COUNTRY we’re marching to save, The dear flag of The UNION in triumph shall wave! Faith swells every heart! Hope fires every vein! “And Thou who transplanted, Oh always sustain !”

0

Jan 5, 2017

Jan 5, 2017 at 6:48 PM UTC

connecthook

Qui Transtulit Sustinet

“Qui Transtulit Sustinet !” Motto of light! ‘Neath the folds of that banner we strike for the right; Connecticut’s watchword oer hill and o’er plain, “The Hand that transplanted, that Hand will sustain.” “Qui Transtulit Sustinet !” On the broad fold of Connecticut’s banner this motto’s enrolled, and flashed to the sunlight on mornings bright wings, A promise of glory and honor it brings, The promise of One who ne’er promised in vain, “The Hand that transplanted, that Hand will sustain.” Ay and surely it well has sustained us thus far, in peace and in plenty, in want and in war. When the foe has attacked us in battle array, Then Connecticut’s sons have stood first in the fray; And faith in that watchword inspires us again, For “He who transplanted will ever sustain!” And now, in the darkness of treason’s black night ‘Neath the folds of that banner we strike for the right! For the RIGHT ! ‘Tis OUR COUNTRY we’re marching to save, The dear flag of The UNION in triumph shall wave! Faith swells every heart! Hope fires every vein! “And Thou who transplanted, Oh always sustain !”

22

my dear dear d e a r boy.... .. . .. her eyes are pretty her smile is wide -- & white, just like yours she's tall, she's slim, and she takes good photos of you on her instagram her small brunette bun is annoying....................ly cute her little legs & little arms too i'm sure it looks like something out of a magazine when they are wrapped around you... another hip kid from some northeast city little Connecticutie~ did she know about me? does she know that you live right down the street? she hid behind your shoulder that's how i knew that she is in love with you, too & it feels like someone shoved a grenade down my esophagus and i'm just w a i t i n g for it to blow me in a billion bits so i can just get over this and then all the dads will bring their little girlies and all the ladies will raise their strawberry daiquiris eyeing the loose shards of my dignity hoping that they could somehow help with their jaded seniority going, "lesson number one: love is never always fun."

0

Oct 20, 2015

Oct 20, 2015 at 2:55 PM UTC

geminiiiiiidk

Connecticutie

my dear dear d e a r boy.... .. . .. her eyes are pretty her smile is wide -- & white, just like yours she's tall, she's slim, and she takes good photos of you on her instagram her small brunette bun is annoying....................ly cute her little legs & little arms too i'm sure it looks like something out of a magazine when they are wrapped around you... another hip kid from some northeast city little Connecticutie~ did she know about me? does she know that you live right down the street? she hid behind your shoulder that's how i knew that she is in love with you, too & it feels like someone shoved a grenade down my esophagus and i'm just w a i t i n g for it to blow me in a billion bits so i can just get over this and then all the dads will bring their little girlies and all the ladies will raise their strawberry daiquiris eyeing the loose shards of my dignity hoping that they could somehow help with their jaded seniority going, "lesson number one: love is never always fun."

26

first of all the school closed for a little while, just a few days as if in solidarity but actually in fear along with all the other schools around it great hulking buildings cowering silently behind meagre security systems. when we went back we couldn't get in we had to have passes be buzzed in at the door like strangers while a fish-eyed camera lens glared at us metallic, stark, judgmental. then the drills began. lessons suddenly interrupted taken over by escape procedures and gas masks why were there gas masks? i don't know. we, as children, were taught how to hide how to cower under our desks how to build ourselves into corners - how a triangle is the strongest shape (i tried this once, a few months later, in a different situation. it didn't work.) the drill would sound, horrendously loud a bell screaming at us hysterical, panicking but we must remain calm remain calm, the teachers said get under your desks or something stronger if you can build yourself a fortress don't try to be heroic. our friends died in that massacre and other people did yesterday over the sea (ande bari pani) and i cannot stop thinking about them. i can't say i know how it feels, because everyone reacts differently in situations like this. but i have been closer than most to this particular fire to the feeling of ragged helplessness as you stand at the sideline, praying that the next person to stop drawing breath is not one you know. these thoughts haunt you later: how can i be so selfish, you ask yourself what could possibly make it ok for someone else's loved one to die as long as their path had not crossed my own? tonight i sit huddled over a notebook crouched on the edge of my bed as this gnawing physical ache pierces further into my stomach. i stay here in the silence, try to write, because i need to get out what i'm thinking about but there is no way, not really. no way that i can adequately tell of the horror the realisation of what has happened that these awful things that you see in the movies can also be real. no way that i can eloquently speak about the look on a mother's face as she discovers that her child is gone. "it's the wrong way round!" she'll scream later, "it should have been me first!" but for now she just crumples her face folding within itself her mouth collapsing in a silent scream, she drains grey. no way that i can really speak of what i actually want to say and so instead i say simply:that my thoughts are in connecticut there are no words for this.

0

Jun 23, 2015

Jun 23, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC

scardecourcier

there are no words for this

first of all the school closed for a little while, just a few days as if in solidarity but actually in fear along with all the other schools around it great hulking buildings cowering silently behind meagre security systems. when we went back we couldn't get in we had to have passes be buzzed in at the door like strangers while a fish-eyed camera lens glared at us metallic, stark, judgmental. then the drills began. lessons suddenly interrupted taken over by escape procedures and gas masks why were there gas masks? i don't know. we, as children, were taught how to hide how to cower under our desks how to build ourselves into corners - how a triangle is the strongest shape (i tried this once, a few months later, in a different situation. it didn't work.) the drill would sound, horrendously loud a bell screaming at us hysterical, panicking but we must remain calm remain calm, the teachers said get under your desks or something stronger if you can build yourself a fortress don't try to be heroic. our friends died in that massacre and other people did yesterday over the sea (ande bari pani) and i cannot stop thinking about them. i can't say i know how it feels, because everyone reacts differently in situations like this. but i have been closer than most to this particular fire to the feeling of ragged helplessness as you stand at the sideline, praying that the next person to stop drawing breath is not one you know. these thoughts haunt you later: how can i be so selfish, you ask yourself what could possibly make it ok for someone else's loved one to die as long as their path had not crossed my own? tonight i sit huddled over a notebook crouched on the edge of my bed as this gnawing physical ache pierces further into my stomach. i stay here in the silence, try to write, because i need to get out what i'm thinking about but there is no way, not really. no way that i can adequately tell of the horror the realisation of what has happened that these awful things that you see in the movies can also be real. no way that i can eloquently speak about the look on a mother's face as she discovers that her child is gone. "it's the wrong way round!" she'll scream later, "it should have been me first!" but for now she just crumples her face folding within itself her mouth collapsing in a silent scream, she drains grey. no way that i can really speak of what i actually want to say and so instead i say simply:that my thoughts are in connecticut there are no words for this.

85

So ….. Who Are The ... ... " Good Guys " ... ? In These Modern Times ... ? Osama … Obama ... ? ? Or Those … Civil Type Guardia ... ? What ... Makes Them Good ... ? The Guns They Use ... As If They ... Should …. To RESTRAIN and ... Defuse ... VIOLENT … Neighbourhoods … !?! But REALLY … Is This ... What They Do … ?!? I've Heard Stories ... That … Relay TRUTH ... About The ABUSE ... Some Guardia … Choose … !!! Like … STRIPPING Men … In … Spanish Streets ... To ... Prove To Them …. The ... Kinda PROBLEMS ... They're ... BOUND To See ... If They ... DON'T Respect ... The ... " Gendarmerie " … !!!!! Good Guys ….. !!!?!!! REALLY … ?!? Or Employed … BULLIES ... !?! The Type Who ... FEED ... of … "ABUSE FILLED Deeds" … !!! The Type That Make ... Young People … BLEED … !!! When ... Guns They … PARADE … Aren't Used … " Properly " … Kind of Like …. " NEWTOWN " …. Where It's CLEAR … Gun Sounds ... Will Now … RESOUND ... In The ... Hearts and Mouths ... of ... Parents Now … Resound With … " LOSS " … !!!!! Cos' A ... LOVED One's Gone … !!!!! WITHOUT A …. Song …. Or Farewell ... "Prolonged" ... So …. ??? What Was The Mantra ... ? of … Adam Lanza ... ? To Shoot REPEATEDLY ... In A ... KILLING SPREE … That Took … SO MANY … !!!!! Was His Mind So HEAVY ... ?!? That His Thoughts … CLEARLY … Had Become … "UNstEAdy" … !!! So … Where Were Connecticut's ... GOOD GUYS … Then … ? With The ... " NRA " ... !?! At A ... Shooting Range … ??? Shooting Guns For … "FUN" … !!! While The Blood of A MUM ... And Youngsters ..... RUN ..................................... Down SCHOOL Hallways ... In The … Middle of The Day ... !?! Now The NRA Says … "Bad Guys with guns, need to face, good ones !" Okay Okay ... But Let's ... Get This Straight … !!! It's ... OKAY For A Man ... Whose Been Paid and Trained ... To ... SHOOT TO **** ... Pretty Much AT WILL ... Cos' It's Been … " Okayed " … By The …. " NRA " …. !?! Who Said ... They Were Good … !!!???!!! I Learnt My Lesson ... Watching … Charlton Heston ... !!! It Would ... Seem To Me ... That ... NRA Peeps … Care ... MORE For ... MONEY ... Than When … Children BLEED … !!?!! It's ... ALL About GREED … !!! Cos' ... Good GUYS ... DON'T NEED ... To Have … " ARMOURIES " ... !!! To ENSURE The Streets ... Are Filled With … "PEACE" ... and I … For One ... DON'T Believe That Guns ... Have … ANY Function … In …. Education …. !!!!!! Educate Our Youth ….. !!! About The ... HARM They Cause ... !!!!!!! They NEED To Be Schooled ... In ….... AVOIDING Wars ............ !!!!!! And In ... Avoiding Depression … That Leads To HARSH Lessons ... !!!!! It Time To STRENGTHEN ... !!! Our Fight Against ... Guns ... And Time To … " LESSEN " … !!! " NRA " ... Type Funds ... !!!!! That SUPPORT … " The Lie " of ….. " Preservation of life " … Through The Use of … ………. GUNS ………… Seeing Blood ... Run … DOESN'T ... Signify FUN … !!!!! NEITHER Does ... ... The Sight ... of Police In Schools ... With A Gun By Their Side … !!! They Weren't In View … When I Was ... Being Schooled … !!! So FOLKS … DON'T BE ... Fooled ... !!! By ... Lobbyist Groups … !!!!! When It Comes To ... ... "Who is Who" … Who Are THEY To Decide … !???! When It Comes To ... Peoples' Lives ... Who The People Should Believe ..... To Be ………………………… ... "The Good Guys !!!" ...

0

Sep 12, 2014

Sep 12, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC

big-virge

"The Good Guys" ... A Poem written by Big Virge 22/12/2012

So ….. Who Are The ... ... " Good Guys " ... ? In These Modern Times ... ? Osama … Obama ... ? ? Or Those … Civil Type Guardia ... ? What ... Makes Them Good ... ? The Guns They Use ... As If They ... Should …. To RESTRAIN and ... Defuse ... VIOLENT … Neighbourhoods … !?! But REALLY … Is This ... What They Do … ?!? I've Heard Stories ... That … Relay TRUTH ... About The ABUSE ... Some Guardia … Choose … !!! Like … STRIPPING Men … In … Spanish Streets ... To ... Prove To Them …. The ... Kinda PROBLEMS ... They're ... BOUND To See ... If They ... DON'T Respect ... The ... " Gendarmerie " … !!!!! Good Guys ….. !!!?!!! REALLY … ?!? Or Employed … BULLIES ... !?! The Type Who ... FEED ... of … "ABUSE FILLED Deeds" … !!! The Type That Make ... Young People … BLEED … !!! When ... Guns They … PARADE … Aren't Used … " Properly " … Kind of Like …. " NEWTOWN " …. Where It's CLEAR … Gun Sounds ... Will Now … RESOUND ... In The ... Hearts and Mouths ... of ... Parents Now … Resound With … " LOSS " … !!!!! Cos' A ... LOVED One's Gone … !!!!! WITHOUT A …. Song …. Or Farewell ... "Prolonged" ... So …. ??? What Was The Mantra ... ? of … Adam Lanza ... ? To Shoot REPEATEDLY ... In A ... KILLING SPREE … That Took … SO MANY … !!!!! Was His Mind So HEAVY ... ?!? That His Thoughts … CLEARLY … Had Become … "UNstEAdy" … !!! So … Where Were Connecticut's ... GOOD GUYS … Then … ? With The ... " NRA " ... !?! At A ... Shooting Range … ??? Shooting Guns For … "FUN" … !!! While The Blood of A MUM ... And Youngsters ..... RUN ..................................... Down SCHOOL Hallways ... In The … Middle of The Day ... !?! Now The NRA Says … "Bad Guys with guns, need to face, good ones !" Okay Okay ... But Let's ... Get This Straight … !!! It's ... OKAY For A Man ... Whose Been Paid and Trained ... To ... SHOOT TO **** ... Pretty Much AT WILL ... Cos' It's Been … " Okayed " … By The …. " NRA " …. !?! Who Said ... They Were Good … !!!???!!! I Learnt My Lesson ... Watching … Charlton Heston ... !!! It Would ... Seem To Me ... That ... NRA Peeps … Care ... MORE For ... MONEY ... Than When … Children BLEED … !!?!! It's ... ALL About GREED … !!! Cos' ... Good GUYS ... DON'T NEED ... To Have … " ARMOURIES " ... !!! To ENSURE The Streets ... Are Filled With … "PEACE" ... and I … For One ... DON'T Believe That Guns ... Have … ANY Function … In …. Education …. !!!!!! Educate Our Youth ….. !!! About The ... HARM They Cause ... !!!!!!! They NEED To Be Schooled ... In ….... AVOIDING Wars ............ !!!!!! And In ... Avoiding Depression … That Leads To HARSH Lessons ... !!!!! It Time To STRENGTHEN ... !!! Our Fight Against ... Guns ... And Time To … " LESSEN " … !!! " NRA " ... Type Funds ... !!!!! That SUPPORT … " The Lie " of ….. " Preservation of life " … Through The Use of … ………. GUNS ………… Seeing Blood ... Run … DOESN'T ... Signify FUN … !!!!! NEITHER Does ... ... The Sight ... of Police In Schools ... With A Gun By Their Side … !!! They Weren't In View … When I Was ... Being Schooled … !!! So FOLKS … DON'T BE ... Fooled ... !!! By ... Lobbyist Groups … !!!!! When It Comes To ... ... "Who is Who" … Who Are THEY To Decide … !???! When It Comes To ... Peoples' Lives ... Who The People Should Believe ..... To Be ………………………… ... "The Good Guys !!!" ...

183

New York ~ News New Jersey ~ Beaches California ~ Movies Florida ~ Disney World Kentucky ~ Chicken Texas ~ People that can't fit in their cars Connecticut ~ Lyme Disease

0

Aug 28, 2014

Aug 28, 2014 at 11:47 PM UTC

david-rusiecki

States

New York ~ News New Jersey ~ Beaches California ~ Movies Florida ~ Disney World Kentucky ~ Chicken Texas ~ People that can't fit in their cars Connecticut ~ Lyme Disease

7

On December 14, 2012 Children hid in cubbies, They hid in shelves. Teacher's surrounded And spoke them kind words, For out in the halls, The shots could be heard. Just an elementary school Filled with laughter and joy, Was stripped of its fun All because of one boy. A tear fell from America's eyes, As we heard the news, For now twenty-six angels, Our country did lose. Newtown, Connecticut Will never be the same. Engraved in its heart, Is sorrow and pain. Twenty children, Six adults. They didn't deserve it, They weren't at fault. Now all of our hearts Are filled with sorrow, We never expected They wouldn't see tomorrow. Twenty-six angels On a friday, flew away. Rest easy, sweet angels. In our hearts you will stay.

0

Mar 30, 2014

Mar 30, 2014 at 7:13 PM UTC

aclosetpoet

December 14

On December 14, 2012 Children hid in cubbies, They hid in shelves. Teacher's surrounded And spoke them kind words, For out in the halls, The shots could be heard. Just an elementary school Filled with laughter and joy, Was stripped of its fun All because of one boy. A tear fell from America's eyes, As we heard the news, For now twenty-six angels, Our country did lose. Newtown, Connecticut Will never be the same. Engraved in its heart, Is sorrow and pain. Twenty children, Six adults. They didn't deserve it, They weren't at fault. Now all of our hearts Are filled with sorrow, We never expected They wouldn't see tomorrow. Twenty-six angels On a friday, flew away. Rest easy, sweet angels. In our hearts you will stay.

31