"firearm" poems
They say after the rainbow,
come the *** of gold,
But if you look on my end,
You'd see treasure being sold.
All our riches are scarce,
For a drug and firearm
Why is there much danger
If we have not caused harm?
Yesterday, my son smiled
To a rainbow in the slum,
Knowing that it hasn't left,
Because this is where it comes from.
They say after the storm
Comes the rainbow,
Leaving us hope in life
Like a guardian angel.
If we stick together
To help one another
The slum will be
Prosperous again, my brother.
At seven months, my son smile
To a rainbow in the slum,
Knowing, that it hasn't left,
Because this is where it comes from.
Peace...
Where it comes from?
Joy...
Where it comes from?
Happiness...
Where it comes from?
Unity...
Where it comes from?
Love...
Where it comes from?
A rainbow in the slum
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
The writer is
bound by the Oedipus
cauldron stewing can't relax
--all women are mine--
but this doesn't stop the bloating bubbles.
But the writer did not invent Wonderlandia
--no double-sided tape or wrong number or sloppy poetics.
Wonderlandia was born from the ***** of the stars
--our fathers,
and the void of space,
--our mother's womb.
the writer
was busy staring at the girls that walked by
ditch diggers for renovations on Euphoria.
The hippies are disappointed in this current Wonderlandia,
or they would be.
Their dreams had dirt in the mud,
they walked upon. Our Woodstock
is celebrity interviews,
reservations failing,
political satires--the last ring of change
sold at five cents a word. Period.
the writer
says it understands and writes:
"Sticks shaped from elitism
rare.
Usually a vibe too brittle,
breaking in battle.
The bass thundered robins.
The snare's firearm stabled the swift,
electrifying beat.
The brass was addiction
to the crowd's ears.
All before the elitism was born,
a symphony was constructed in the drug's head."
the writer
knows about D. A. Levy and his revolution,
we all felt that voice, so the writer replies:
"Did you hear about the John Lennon poser
waving his gun on TV?
While listening to the Beatles, you
sit and watch the vagabond cry.
He says, "Counter-culture is dead, entombed
in a metal casket.
We need a new flame. Those watching TV
get your hands out of the basket."
the writer
walks with grandma Alice
by lakes,
thrilling dementia
"Don't tell me what taurine
and caffeine can do to my heart.
I can have alligators in my rib meat
eating away at bone marrow.
High? That's your question?
Hi...I am a float
in a useless pond
bordered by malnourished trees.
By the love of hell you better not
fertilize those ****** trees
because if I die
the alligator of my ribs
will dine and take your ****
girlfriend straight to the vet.
I thank you for asking though."
the writer misses
the syrup in the tree completely
I am not your beatnik
or future idol--burn your 1970's classrooms away.
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 6:49 PM UTC
I'm a doomsday prepper
Afraid of zombie lepers
And nuclear line steppers
So I spend my life preparing
Instead of repairing
A civilization that is constantly crumbling
I focus on post-apocalyptic rumbling
My self reliance
Met my defiance
In an alliance
Of deadly appliance
When I have no faith in the government
Because they might make preparing futile
For the disasters of my wonderment
I don't copy their community style
They'll just die when the world ends
So they're a waste of the time I spend
I tried to look above
To find love
But a giant tidal wave
Blocked the sun's rays
And I could feel the Earth quake
Under my shaking feet
So I decided it was a mistake
And to avoid what's sweet
I will no longer be a misfit
After the apocalypse
I will be more comfortable than everyone else
But will I really keep my resources to myself?
I say of course
From my high horse
I fantasize about being right
So others will see the light
Of a nuclear blast
And see that I last
They'll beg to see my stocked shelf
Yet I will offer no help
I'll say my memory is hazy
Didn't you call me crazy?
Protecting my goods in that vulnerable hour
With a stockpile of firearm firepower
I prepare for an impending doom
That'll create some elbow room
Instead of friends I gather supplies
For a cataclysmic surprise
Where everyone dies
Then I'll be happy
Hunting and trapping
All alone
In a blast zone
Where someone once said
Life is what happens
While you're making plans
But the apocalypse
Is my promised land
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 4:50 AM UTC
Moonstruck...
I am moonstruck from your charm,
Come now you should hold my arm,
I will be a shield against any firearm,
Gone will be your fear of nightmares,
I am your own bodyguard who cares,
None can harm you as none can dare.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 9:48 AM UTC
The last drops have been swallowed,
And the last vestiges
Of post-wage labor
Libationary sorrow
Swagger slowly off
Into the night
Across cracked pavement
Like slugs after rain.
I pick up the chemtrail
Left by my father
And follow it to
A makeshift master suite
Wedged between a
Rundown groundskeeper
Shed and the unkempt
Wilderness beside the
Desolate bike path
In rural Seekonk.
The rest of this comatose
Town in this overdosed
Commonwealth
Are separated
By enough trees
And undergrowth
And small
Night creatures
Calling to each other
In the dark
That they can't hear
The nightly
Rattle of .38
Rounds my father
Sends flying into the trees.
The pistol was my
Grandfather's,
Brought over from France
In 1947.
My father cries
As he pulls the trigger
Over and over
Sporatically,
Like a Sung Tong,
His eyes wild,
Darting side to side
In milky blue trails
Back and forth
And up and down
Across the dark
Chasms of his
Eye sockets.
When the chambers
Of his firearm
Run dry he fills them
From the box
He took from my basement,
In his old house,
Where he stockpiled
Ammunition for
Twenty two years.
I've learned to stand east
Of my father when
I make the visits
Expected of children
When their parents
Are old and trapped
In the recesses of
Their insanity
Or nursing home
Or empty nest,
Because he always
Aims west.
I wait for tonight's
Box to be empty,
Then slowly walk
To where my father
Is huddled,
Clutching the pistol
Like a teddy bear.
He is breathing heavy,
And has **** himself.
He hears me coming,
Turns, and smiles
Upon recognition.
"I got em good mikey,
Got good, not taking
My land from ME
Mickey, never going
Blow south,
See it?"
I pull the pistol I've
Brought from my waistband,
The one my father,
Gregory Bishop,
Gave me on my
Eighteenth birthday.
The weight in my hand
Is deafening,
The illegal ivory
Is seamless
And cold against
My palm.
I raise my arm,
Aim,
And pull the trigger.
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 5:28 PM UTC
Just keep livin in this feelin
Never am I beleivin
That **** thats written
Questin for questionin
Im losin
No reasonin
No serotonin
Jane, dope burnin got me floatin
Lucy dances turnin got me smilin
Druggy desperate runnin got me huffin
Huff and puff an puff, pass
One piggy in a house oh straw smokin grass
Nother piggys house of glass
Last piggys house of cards but, alas
Little piggys grow big and pass
One pig in the straw smoked over ash
Nother pig served with a glass
Last pig out of cards, alas
Last pig out of the farm
Free hog free from the harm
Hunted down with a firearm
Pow Pow hogs need not roam
No escapin the farm
Just dyin in a drugged calm
Or dyin strugglin in dirt, ****
So just chill and spread *****
New meat for the grinders
Fresh meat for the diners
Pigs aint **** but some dinners
For pigs with gold incisors
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 11:26 AM UTC
There is no cure for paranoia
except a loaded firearm
I paint the war
It is laughter and invention
with loud clicking gasps
buried in the seed of fraternity
Mar 15, 2012
Mar 15, 2012 at 11:13 PM UTC
America the Brave,
did you ever look beyond the porch, and see the smoke?
I have felt each gunshot wound and bookmarked each media news story
and even catalogued some photographs
for you to look over again.
because it seems you have a strange habit of forgetting
all the times
where places that children should be learning and laughing
began to look like cemeteries, the doors closing like a cruel purgatory,
when another **** maniac rages in with a legal firearm –
“mommy, I’m okay, but all my friends are dead.”
red crayons will never look the same—
I’ve found that bleach does not clean out
the stains on the carpet and words alone do not console the masses.
America the Free,
have you heard the terrifying orchestra of screeching tires on pavement?
didn’t you learn that running away is the same as running to meet a date with the reaper?
America, please tell me why
I cannot look for safety in a blue uniform, tell me why
the word “police” inspires more fear and pain
than it stands for justice?
there, in the empty streets, are the echoes of the voices in the night that you failed to hear when the sound of
sirens drowned the world in shades of wrong--
“I can’t breathe.”
“I don’t have a gun, stop shooting.”
“please don’t let me die.”
I stand at the gates between crossroads but nobody looks each other
even if there’s the unspoken truth
that some of us are more likely to be studying obituaries than studying to
be finishing our high school and college degrees.
America the Bold,
please listen when I tell you that there is a pain you cannot hide
beneath IPhones and reality television,
when all I see is hallowed eyes,
empty hands, and
more parents that shouldn’t have to know
what it’s like to buy caskets in mass production, before they even knew how to read, before they could sing praises of your liberty, before they even had a chance to pray for a different fate, one they actually deserved.
America the Beautiful,
for all your Spacious skies, and amber waves…
have you looked at the ugliness of your ****** palms?
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 2:51 PM UTC
Have you ever tasted the spicy barrels of a firearm?
Although self-control may hammer her heart in rhythm with contemporary recollections of a distant Northern community; I have resigned myself to proclamations which can never be repeated in the streets of Miami.
I know that tropical storms can be relentless, especially where tuxedos are triggered by intense and acoustic fields of romantic death.
So, tell me, what are your co-ordinates? It is important that you pump your lever in a forward direction, because the troposphere hinges upon all of this anthropological turbulence.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 1:18 AM UTC
She said she came from Phoenix
her full back story she ain't tellin'
but she can't get a passport or firearm
so I'm guessing she's a convicted felon
she asked me if i had a room to spare
and offered to pay a small rent
that was six months ago
I haven't see a cent
I asked her to do some dishes
vacuum mow the lawn or any small chore
she said she's writing a song in her head
and can't handle much more
so now i have a live in maid
who doesn't clean or cook a meal
but i know one day she'll sing her song
and her wings will be revealed
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 9:24 AM UTC
The carvings on their arm were the output of
betrayal. Yours of unhealthy obsession. Others came along;
one comes from loneliness, the other from loss, and you
no longer feel estranged.
In fact, you are welcomed
in the society of deranged and uncouth.
The razor blade in your suit pocket
doesn't seem too dangerous compared to their
bleach, venom, and firearm.
You felt your existence became the very dawn of you;
the immoral depiction of Faustian love,
the very one
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 8:36 PM UTC
I am quite the vivacious, little serial killer
A mentally unaligned, malign blood spiller
I am a stringent supporter of firearm regulation
Explaining a proclivity for machete fueled decapitation
I’ll grant you a deathly diagnosis
Feed off your breath in twisted symbiosis
I’ll calculate the perfect blade length to flay
Find the best ways for you to squirm in honor of payback day
It’s very sharp of you to worry
For I certainly don’t **** in a hurry
Oh darlings, do the math
Two bodies and a laugh equal one psychopath
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 9:45 AM UTC
Forearm up
to block -
the firearm’s out
to blow
and the spectators
peck away
at the show;
saphrotrophs
fester fright;
such delight
in such a plight
and a thorn thick
enough
with blood
to drain the room.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 12:14 PM UTC
rest of title...Parkland, Fla.,February 14, 2018
One more senseless mass homicide
twas the sole arbitrary aim
as a former student nonchalantly
sauntered empty hallways
seconds preceding blame
brazenly intent to maximize total killed
matter of factly telling police
(his incomprehensible)
(ill) logic he did explain
when cornered, he willingly,
unflinchingly, reticently admitted guilt
Nikolas Cruz rocketed
to instantaneous infamous fame
pulling a fire alarm
("FAKE") emergency,
then going leisurely ambling
along his killing spree
total of seventeen slain (comprising 3 faculty
and 14 students)
mercilessly gunned down
as if they were wild game
when handcuffed, an innocuous
19 year old did readily admit
emptying one firearm after another
at a fairly rapid clip
then at some predestined
or spurious moment didst dip
and dive out amidst
the chaotic madding crowd
before reality flopped then did flip
as lower teeth he nervously bit upper lip
made feeble getaway
at a nearby eatery casually flirted
with cashier and made no move to flit
upon his seizure as cornered prey
subsequently large tract
massively cordoned off
strong arm of the law
slightly halting in speech
detailed his gambit
deliberately staking
a stance to maximize hit
and once again afflicted parents lit
up with rancor and rage pit
toughly battling sorrow
which will not quit
til death doth bring peaceful rest
sans, those grieving family visit.
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 7:18 PM UTC
I have to ask myself the question;
Why is Americas second admendment rights attacked each time some fool does something so evil?There are millions of law abiding gun owners in America that use firearms lawfully and legally every day but you will not hear about that in the liberal media. These senseless murders are a tradgey and those who commit them must be dealt with accordingly .I, as a law abiding American citizen have the right, unlike most citizens of other countries in the world, to own firearms .I do not have the right to use that firearm against any other human being other than in an act of self defence and then only if I or a family member are in immediate danger of death or serious ****** injury, and only then.
There will always be people who will **** others by whatever means they can. It is the heart of a man that causes him to love or to hate others lives as well as his own.Our second admendment right is not a problem, the problem is not an American problem. It is a heart condition of every man who breathes.
Until man's heart is changed ,nothing changes.
RLB
Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 5:42 PM UTC
sickly rip me from this diluted tree of melted charm
take me back to those barley filled days
and place me with your little fingers back upon that farm
a time when there was no such thing as firearm
or harm
a time when I was filled with scars of loyal work streched forth for the world to see
down my arms
I time when we didnt hurt our brothers
a time when we went to ours mother for the answer
a time when our ancestors and relatives did not pass this life to live in cancer
a time when the pigs where not the bachlors
a time when a woman was not a cheater
a time when the human was not the actor
and the actors and artists human
these minds
have come to crease the internal of a superficial disaster
that only the right heads can master
I was thinking of our situation on this one night I was plastered
and woke up the next morning after
with the bitter potion still pumping through my combusted liver
and remebered last night with its bright lights and rich champagne
and started to shiver
and how I would have loved to celeberate any occasion down
by a white river
filled with stones and fish of similar nature
a fire and love that spread out through the achres
flowers worn by the women and men in theyre hair for praise
to our universe
and in our very own souls we would immerse
and our eyes and hearts would burst
and the only spell that would be casted upon us is mother natures tender curse
Jan 18, 2011
Jan 18, 2011 at 5:05 PM UTC
Mass or morning; the new detection panel
of six Jewish artillery summaries to see
blonde ***** and married boxes invaded
by the empty strippers while painting a
firearm from the shadow of dawn with
police dogs to the beloved mother of the
Western window, shows showing mistakenly
calling the furies, bears get distemper
enough to scratch the thin skinned
Australians while the planet's emperor winds
up leaving women by admitting only
to getting a ******* in the museum, the spell, |||
the flesh, the color, the skin, the sensation,
the adolescent kisses under the side of his father
In general terms, my oscillating lover
keeping the pain abroad remembers
his hostility towards Paul's assembly,
there are enough trees on the corporate website.
Perhaps the Jews who ****** the tongue,
the fog and the drawers in a book of dark images
were prostitutes who were abstract yellow devils.
That fire engulfed the whole building,
saints on their knees separated by the "Eve"
to paint a divisor on the order of a dog
that is right since it is on the rise in the breaking
of the police to speak of the public to believe
that the mother of the beloved of the living God
of matter was thrown onto the United States
of America in the division of the person
of all time as we warm ourselves.|
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 1:46 AM UTC
steely cold
chilling drilling killing
innocent children's blood spilling
gun
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC
Parkland, Fla. February 14, 2018
One more senseless mass homicide
twas the sole arbitrary aim
as a former student nonchalantly
sauntered empty hallways
seconds preceding blame
brazenly intent to maximize total killed
matter of factly telling police
(his incomprehensible)
(ill) logic he did explain
when cornered, he willingly,
unflinchingly, reticently admitted guilt
Nikolas Cruz rocketed
to instantaneous infamous fame
pulling a fire alarm
("FAKE") emergency,
then going leisurely ambling
along his killing spree
total of seventeen slain (comprising 3 faculty
and 14 students)
mercilessly gunned down
as if they were wild game
when handcuffed, an innocuous
19 year old did readily admit
emptying one firearm after another
at a fairly rapid clip
then at some predestined
or spurious moment didst dip
and dive out amidst
the chaotic madding crowd
before reality flopped then did flip
as lower teeth nervously bit upper lip
made feeble getaway
at a nearby eatery casually flirted
with cashier and made no move to flit
upon his seizure as cornered prey
subsequently large tract
massively cordoned off
strong arm of the law
slightly halting in speech
detailed his gambit
deliberately staking
a stance to maximize hit
and once again afflicted parents lit
up with rancor and rage pit
toughly battling sorrow
which will not quit
til death doth
those grieving family visit.
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 6:11 PM UTC
I’m on California 101
The highway
Taking you away
Are you lost ?
We say 101 at most
In the American West
“One-o-one’’
One no one
One, oh one
I fire the only firearm
That disarms you
My denim by Levi’s
501
On California 101
Blue as the sky of my vice
Hip-hugs my skin we drive
The Pacific and its yellow lines unwind
As slowly as the wind
We drive 101’s log jam
Listening to Pearl Jam
I’m Bonnie, my guy’s Clyde
And I gotta tell Elvis
The weather here is a bliss
Elvis, did you wear that hip-hugging Levi’s ?
My road trip essential nice vice?
We drive, high gear overdrive
To San Diego’s beaches and lagoon
To Los Angeles, you funny gowned goon
To San Francisco, everything there is eclectic
California, your State’s electricity is static
“One-o-one’’
One no one
One, oh one
Road trippin’ with my denim by Levi’s
501
On California 101
Are you lost ?
We say 101 at most
In the American West
We’re on Pacific Coast
Highway we followed along the Coast
To the Bay Bridge and the port
Of San Francisco, maritime city
An exceptional city that rules
Exception to the rule
We go country in the Bald Eagle’s county
“One-o-one’’
One no one
One, oh one
Get your denim by Levi’s
501
On California 101
Are you lost ?
We say 101 at most
In the American West!
May 1, 2015
University of California, Riverside.
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 8:50 AM UTC
I’ll never forget that cold winter
night when we left your high
school dance, paradise beats
rising in your bright blue eyes,
heavenly bells ringing in dazzling
destinies, dancing vibrations rocking
the jazzy scene, as we skipped across
the sidewalk to the sensual sounds of
Whitney Houston’s song I Will Always
Love You. And as we breathed in the
soft soothing vocals, moments of desire
intensifying across the horizon, gentle
gleaming breezes whirling upon the wisps
of our hair and suntanned bodies,
we were as one like the waves curled
up next to the sea. I pressed my hands
up against your smooth sparkling cheeks
and kissed you on your peachy lips,
a beautiful scenery lighting up the sky.
And as I bid you farewell, my heart was
in a place it had never been before.
I could see the rings of passionate Saturn
brightening the flames inside my soul,
the scintillating galaxies reaching out
to my world, while I watched you from
my vehicle strut down the glossy pavement
singing in divine delight. But out of
the distance, a dark shadow came running
towards your view, a tall malicious man
dressed in all black holding a firearm in
his hands. I screamed out your name
and tried to come to your aid, but I could
hear the blazing gunshots pounding the
city streets, the late-night murderer fleeing
the scene. And as I ran to your scarlet
mugshot kingdom, a world bleeding grey
and darkened death, split open and ripped
into jagged pieces, my life was never
the same.
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 4:25 PM UTC
"In case you're wondering who we are,
We're your friendly NRA.
Put your worries behind you now;
We are here to save the day.
"Feeling lost and insecure?
Feeling hopeless or dejected?
Come on down and buy your gun.
Your spirits will be resurrected.
"What? You want a handgun? Pshaw!
A handgun is just a toy.
An assault weapon is what you need
To make you feel like a really big boy.
“The thought of guns everywhere
Titillates us to the core.
We can’t describe the ecstasy
Of having more and more and more!
"Your Congressmen love to stick
Their hands into our bulging pockets.
Call it a little *** for tat--
Just keep us off your legal dockets.
"One of our leaders is Wayne LaPierre.
With every gun sale he's elated.
Some say he prevaricates;
We say truth is overrated.
"Gun manufacturers,
You scratch our backs, we'll scratch yours.
We'll make sure that all can access
Weapons that are made for wars.
"Certainly our Founding Fathers
Knew what they were doing when
They envisioned assault weapons
In the hands of all brave men.
"Join our 'well regulated
Militia' here in the United States.
We don’t like our beloved Second
Amendment to undergo debates.
"We are doing all we can
To weaken all gun safety laws.
Please don't mention violence;
Every system has its flaws.
"We subscribe to firearm freedom--
A genuine right that's everyone's.
Here's one way to look at it:
Religious liberty for your guns.
"'Life, liberty, and the pursuit of guns'--
That's our motto, simple and clear.
Gun grabbers had best beware:
The NRA will persevere.
"So now you know who we are:
We're your friendly NRA.
You can put your worries behind you;
We are here to save the day."
- by Bob B
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 11:52 AM UTC
Crawling through this chaos in my mind with my plan
No one to confide in with my heart in my hand
I've been deadened by my pain
Have no more lessons for my brain
My time and life is counting down
Whilst I'm sat in this waiting game
Done with looping round in circles, in games for me to lose
Time to straighten to my purpose, to spring from this noose
A lousy pen as my firearm
As if the ink will create a spark
I've heard and seen the future that's written on my palms
And good god with all my heart, I will not stand by it
I think you're misinformed
I don't care if you're psychic
I refuse to serve that storm
I'll rewrite what can not be unwritten
Escape the cobra's clutch alive despite being bitten
Concuct an antidote from the venom of this prison
No matter how long I do my time, grappling on decisions
I forbid this captive's life to be lead by submission
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 3:04 PM UTC