"automatics" poems
The line for the local convenience store
Stretched out to Market Avenue’s dirt curb,
Past makeshift street clowns juggling the poor
And the sex-stench of “Population Curb.”
We make like big balloons who self-implode:
Fires to fight fires, guns to fight guns,
Fighting for survival makes mores erode
When a dark illusion has fooled billions.
Little John waits in line with his mommy,
No more than a decade, he learns to shoot.
Life was quiet like a dark raging sea,
Now we shake from a screen and men in suits
Fear not, trembling people of the world,
There is a way to end the gun violence,
To stop making canyons of the knurled:
Guns for all! Shun to think of gun absence!
Automatics in the professor’s desk,
Two pistols strapped to Sally’s little thighs,
End common fear with something more grotesque:
Endless rivers of red and eyes for eyes.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 9:31 PM UTC
They are hunters,
banging on the doors drawing the blinds,
putting the children on their knees
with automatics.
Firepower on firepower,
we are more than we need
and we behave so crazy,
so paranoid.
Blood stained carpets;
we sit in a cage and say we're
safe
and still that blood stains grows
to keep us content.
I heard it in the sugar skulls.
They said, "the dead men are still dead"
but somehow they lied as they hissed
exactly what I wanted to hear;
"the dead men are still dead."
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
Tear gas and fear tactics.
Riot gear and semi-automatics.
Our military industrial complex has come home.
The government wire taps your cell phones.
Spies on you with drones.
While bully cops with billy clubs break your bones.
You know the motto:
serve master's interests,
protect master's property.
The crooked politician is today's slave owner.
Officer his overseer.
That sweet war on drug money armed them up.
Homeland Security bought the armored truck.
Nothing left to do but duck and cover up the evidence before it hits the 6 o' clock media dump.
I stand here today in full protest of toy soldiers in bulletproof vests placing American citizens under house arrest
with evening curfews and death threats.
Until those who are sworn to
uphold the law
begin to
abide by the law,
there will never be peace.
There will never be rest.
The Geneva Convention of 1925 prohibits the use of
asphyxiating and poisonous gases, liquids, and bacteriological
methods of warfare.
The United States has spoken out against countless countries
that have use these tactics on their own people
but has stood idly by as the police use it as a tool to disperse
the peaceful protests of American citizens.
This ******** needs to stop.
No one needs to die.
Not a civilian, not a cop.
America's infatuation with arming itself has come with
zero accountability and a severe lack of responsibility.
A scared nation with fingers on triggers have created
a bigger body count and has widened the gap between
police and community.
Hate and bigotry will never disappear from the human psyche.
It is the responsibility of every individual to
bring positivity into the world.
Ignore the intolerant.
Praise the pacifist.
May future generations reject the appalling actions of their forefathers
and usher in a new age of love and peace based on
tolerance and understanding.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC
You know,
they had type writers,
We have computers.
They didn’t have cell phones,
We have ones with touch screens.
They had board games,
We have X-Box, Wii, and Play Station.
They sent letters,
We send emails.
They had to use books to research,
We have the internet.
They had records, cassettes,
We have i-Pods.
They had stick shifts,
We have automatics.
They had concerts,
We have YouTube.
We realize these things
Are still present in today’s society,
But we over look them and go to the
Newest thing.
We are Generation @.
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
K.p’s dad was a Science Fiction author,
While his son and I learned at school.
The teacher talked about planes, bombs, and towers-
Explosions, debris, and jet fuel.
We were poised like guppies, fidgeting with our lips,
Our bodies seemed made of lewd rubber.
Not one of us understood the weight or gravity-
Of one person killing another.
K.p’s dad wrote about a fair United States,
Called: “The Defined Territories,” rather tenacious.
A satire exploring justice with exaggerated sameness-
That most readers found to be tasteless.
His main character was a ‘rookie cop,’
And every skin color was uniform and equal.
Homosexuals gladly aided population control (by not making babies)-
And bullets were designed to be non-lethal.
In the story: a group of smugglers find a stockpile of real guns,
Automatics, ammunition and bombs.
The valiant cop pursues them through page turns and plot-
With sweat budding on his palms.
K.p and I fought over a girl at school,
I broke his nose and we each served detention.
At the end of his dad’s story the smugglers are caught-
Fined $1,000 and given lethal injection.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 12:44 PM UTC
Righteous Isis,
priceless queen, rife with green
vines winding between her lungs,
around her tongue, crowned with beams
of the ancient sun, power of Ra
beneath her thumb, life-giving wife,
wild child of reptiles, pride of the Nile--
righteous Isis,
she who gives birth to heaven and earth,
sovereign sorceress, steward of words,
my ancestress, blessed with flesh, this
bright protectress, next to death with
theft of her name, maimed by insane fanatics
grasping semi-automatics aimed at
righteous Isis,
spliced into terrorist crisis
situations, sacred name on a
radical federation, used for devastation,
appropriation of my divine mother,
brothers-in-arms killing the culture
of their own nations, of past generations, of
righteous Isis,
torn from her temple by
scorned fundamentalists,
prayers to her used to take
insurgent censuses
now when i bow to my goddess,
my empress, the powers suspect I'm a member of
rightist ISIS,
who crosses off competition
with crucifixion,
lays foundations for jurisdiction
with immolation, with detonation,
decapitation of journalists, their
murderous fists taking nations,
rightist ISIS,
whose power rests on the shoulders of dread,
men obsessed with erasing the names
of every goddess we hold close, of every man
who knows Mohammed did not preach death,
of every Buddhist, every Jew, every pagan, every Hindu,
choking the breath from those who don’t believe what they do--
rightist ISIS,
you think you own the sun but not this one,
not this pristine queen who tears the thunder from the skies,
and she will strike you down with pestilent blight
she'll smite you with a blistering light,
she'll drown you and ignite the tide,
and you will die with the second rise of
righteous Isis,
whose hand rocked the cradle of civilization,
whose shrines make the sacral heart of nations,
whose each breath gives divine illumination,
who shakes off the wasted shame
and patiently waits as we chant her names--
all ten thousand in glorification.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
Sometimes I feel the ceiling falling,
but that's just peripherals hauling shadows and crows calling from fallows.
Reality isn't changing, only my perception falling down,
aging and growing wicked angry and spiteful just 'cause I let it,
spitting lines of depression and hostile succession,
holding onto negative lessons,
refuting positive progression at the expense of intense spiritual expansion,
shunning the silver lining,
running too scared for shining sun to brighten the mood,
lighten the load, smooth the road,
crack the code of the looming clouds of the crowded skyline out the small window of the attic,
where I go to feed the addict and think about how my time would be better spent
playing roulette with russians and using automatics,
crack crack,
future's silent.
That's not really me, couldn't be, quietly pondering failures of loathing and perpetual black
clothing hiding scars of bygones instead of healing, sealing the skin like new, forging a
better view, starting to get a clue.
It's time for a change.
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 11:52 AM UTC
thirteen dead in Colorado
yeah that’s right
thirteen
or was it twelve?
maybe it was fourteen
have they even caught him yet?
I heard they just “identified” him
oh they did?
good
that’s good
lord what has the world come to?
mad men with shotguns
and semi-automatics
just walking into movie theatres
killing anyone and everyone
what’s the point?
what did those people
even do?
oh well,
you take care ok?
we’ll go see the film
later this weekend
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 1:12 AM UTC
Behind the joy of fundraising mittens
Lies the truth, fear and delayed expectations
Pouring milk over cereal is hardly caretaking
Armored with semi
automatics and fruit roll-ups
Healing and unity are synonyms for
Denial
social appearance
and shifting blame
If not literally helpless, they pretend;
Your homelessness should not embarrass you
When you tell your cold son that this tent
is a blessing
They’re doing what they can
in spite of the circumstances
They voted for
warm milk
took money
And sabotaged
the guy
Who sees, knows and fights
I’m dreading
the well worn rationalization
and their refusal to be defeated
While white authoritarians
Drain blood from our hearts
Maybe Mom wasn’t losing her mind.
Jan 25, 2021
Jan 25, 2021 at 12:07 AM UTC
Time was spent and time was taken
Wars were fought and lives were shaken
Sons were lost in foreign battles
Dignitaries are greatly rattled
The cost of Freedom has no maxis
Nothings free, but dealth and taxes
Debt's unchecked without the money
Bills are real, and that's not funny
A need for cash is why we're working
That girl next door, gets paid for twerking
Those, like me, we're paid to slaughter
Foreign fighter's sons and daughters
As they charged with vest, full laden
Of explosives, lives were taken
But, that's ok, there will be others
Pregnacies of angry mothers
Churning out the next rotation
Feed on hate, like cheese and bacon
They grow to hate the American statis
Not taught with books, but automatics
AK fourty-seven practice
Everyday they horn their tactics
In the hills they learn a trade
**** Americans, get paid
Not in cash, but, lushous virgins
For a suicide incursion
Martyrdom for cause and faith
A good idea or bad mistake
Only you control your live
So, die like rats, or learn to fight
Constitutionally, I'm speaking
These laws of ours, could stand some tweaking
Need more freedom; less restriction
And keep this government out my kitchen
I've got rights, so, ****** respect it
I've earned the right to roll this Lexus
Inkpen Slinger, is what you called me
Now, acting like you never say me
Mind so potent, it's illegal
All my poems, they come with sequels
Like this here, I thought and dropped
Another thousand in my pocket
I'm as lucky as a four leaf clover
But, as for now, it's done and over
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 6:57 AM UTC
What level of warrior
do you claim to be
when you maim the weak
and wreak havoc when you speak
of sick sentiments?
You build your armaments
stockpile rifles, semi-automatics,
and handguns
shoot animals for fun.
I do not begrudge that.
I merely judge the fact
that you lack any tact
as you cry out the government
is coming to take them back.
You were afraid of the democrat,
the one you despised because he was black
perhaps you felt that he would
pay us all back for the two hundred
and forty plus years of
treating brown people like trash.
However, despite your rants
despite the Sandy Hook massacre,
the nightclub, the church
Columbine, and all other hurt
in the multitudinous mass shootings
I have not seen any government scheme
to take your guns or gun rights away.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 11:27 AM UTC
Once the tears shed a thought is
bred
From the nerves that beg
For attention I'm still
wishin'
Got **** why must I feel the
Emotions
Of a forced commotion let me
Be now
Used to love but now I'm a criminal
Lyrically
I shatter muthakuckas til
They weapin' eternally
How long will they mourn me for the ******
Laid on me drenched in my own
blood
Mama crying but I ain't lying see the time multiplying
Each day a closer step to judgement day
At the end of the day it don't
matter
What they say as the evilness
preys
On weakest I'm still feelin' bliss as the sun kiss
My body even though I'm dead and gone
And all y'all remain strong til the
end
Of the song and light up a
****
Yeah it seems
drastic
But its nothing but deja vu for teardrops and closed
Caskets
Now that sun done rose up I bake
Up
See the Hennessy in my cup a demons corrupt
Let the spirits meditate and
marinate
So I can create a perfect flow
automatics
My tactics made from a blind man with a pistol
In hand can't see wheres he's aimmin'?
But he sees the sighing spirit world crying
Out let the demons out begins a
spark
Enter the realms of the
dark so I can
Hide that pain that consumes sweep up
Like a broom looking at the tombs
Of my past peers
I let the tears kiss the grave can't be saved
I'm stuck.on this Earth as a slave until I pave
A way to my destiny my heart I'm off the charts
Made a heartless ******* until the pain sours
Tears drops and closed caskets
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 6:13 AM UTC
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]
Let’s go for Coffee -- Grab Your Flak Jacket
Some give their sons semi-automatics and hate
Instead of family and purpose and love
Instead of guided study and structured faith
Instead of fishing poles and summer afternoons
Jul 27, 2024
Jul 27, 2024 at 12:16 PM UTC
I hold your brain
Even though they call you lame
Despite the pain
You use me to stay ahead of the game
But things have changed
I’m getter lighter everyday
Instead of books and paper
I feel metal inside
What could he be doing with maps?
And why all the caps?
You have changed so now
Instead of study hall at 11
We’re at the gun range til 7
I miss our locker so
Now all I know
Is it takes 9 guns till I blow
It doesn’t feel right
Where are you going with this?
I don’t see a enemy insight
But I couldn’t tell if I read what you write
Who is this “they” that will pay?
Answer me please
Or let’s just freeze
We left for school late
Headed for you violent date
Packed with semis and automatics
I hope this doesn’t end up tragic
You walk in the cafe with no intention to eat
I feel you put me down and slowly unzip
I pray that this is only it
Then I hear the shots and the screams too
Why couldn’t you have just said
I needed help Drew
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 8:18 PM UTC
Im building a plant
200 billion worth
Im building
A gun
An gun restore
Manufactory
Not like the ones now
Im talking no serial
Im buying all
New temu
Automatics
Nationwide
This includes
Camps
Barracks
Wharehouse
Underground bunkers
Underground facilities
If we spent 500 billion
Thats ok too
Im going to arm my civilians
****** gave everyone a gun
Me too 2024
Mash em down
As fast they respawn
They two isles on my nugget
The new amazon
Ammunition
Hurry buy 100
Not rounds
100 pounds
50 cal sounds 2 miles rooftop
On the pile
Look out
Look over
Top my city
Whats about to go down
More guns
More ammo
Americafied
Greatest Nation Alive
Feb 23, 2024
Feb 23, 2024 at 9:19 PM UTC