"gatling" poems
Am I attractive, hot, or ****
Or just a forlorn idiot flexing
In order to join the *** scene?
I put a towel down
And set up a picnic
My head spins round
From the dirt they kick
On my meal
To make me feel
Scared and alone
With nowhere to roam
So I stay here laying in the sun
On the other side of a Gatling gun
I searched for a savior
Who's willing to say words
To me
For free
My search was fruitless
My eyes turned youthless
I grazed in the grass
As time quickly passed
After I finished my food
And was left there to brood
I became a floating satellite
That was accustomed to night
Because of my frights
That reflected all light
Now I see ants trying to feed on my crumbs
They must think I'm pretty desperately dumb
To not know they enforced my segregation
When I had naively sought validation
I waited there silently salivating
They responded by not validating
It's for that bitter reason
During my new season
I reflect my light on the approaching ants
So I may thwart their encroaching dance
My humble heart yearns
As I watch bugs burn
They wouldn't partake in my feast
So I morphed into a brutish beast
Now they're here to eat what's left
If they can survive my dragon's breath
They put out the fire in my heart
But ignited my mind
My useless humanity parts
As I focus on time
A time that keeps passing
While signs keep flashing
As burning bugs dying
Or sad satellites flying
My life was no peaceful picnic
After they noticed my sickness
And left me alone
For that is my home
When I don't need validation anymore
I search for love
Unfortunately I know what's in store
A picnic in the mud
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 2:58 AM UTC
The momentous buzzing of battling beasts
Gets lost between the cracks of creeks
You and I, we take our seats
And wait for the show to begin
I wanted fire so I brought flames
But you are like water, so I am tamed
Patience and love, they are the same
You won't catch me asking for either
The sound of malicious marching bands
Outside my door as I sleep they stand
And await my green light crescendo hand
But here it is, locked up in yours
I served my sentence for baring teeth
At those who hung me up like wreath
So you, you are a quantum leap
I am no longer fearful of taking
The air it always sounds so still
On either side of my broken sill
The silence it will hurt until
I hear an impulsive tapping
The gorgeous drumming of Gatling guns
Remind me of your silver tongue
You leave me like a hit-and-run
Please come back; I want more
And maybe, the worst kind of hell
Is where our demons play so well
They make each other swoon and swell
But really - are we any better?
Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 10:25 AM UTC
Ziegfield girls with Gatling guns
in complete synchronization,
decked out in Erté.
Watch your step, soldier,
for what's often considered foreplay.
Much like Peter and the Wolf,
one thing leads to another
on this daisy chain,
and as you know,
Burke's only jealous of Lorainne.
I'll tell you what,
dress warm for the ******* snowstorm,
and there'll be a place alongside
such an ingenue.
But what a terrible let down
it would be to find out
she was always smarter than you.
Apr 21, 2021
Apr 21, 2021 at 2:29 PM UTC
I've got too much privilege
Can we tear my people down?
Let us build a village
And live off the ground
And speak of myth and death
Around the smoke of our breath
I can't imagine
The pain my people cause
Like a 10-ton Gatling gun
And every bullet counts for loss
Where was I when we killed them all
Someday, we're bound to fall
I wish I could say sorry
For the color of my skin
And that I wish I could change
The state things are in
I wouldn't mind if you wanted to **** me
For all the years of misery
I've got love within me
But moving pictures tell the truth
We need a new beginning
Peace is in its youth
Living for each other
Can only come from one another
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 12:19 AM UTC
The world is too big
And I, too small
So I rely on my God
To understand it all
My mind can't seem to comprehend
the things that aim, the world to end
or bring the knees of an African to bend
or millions of jews to the fire send
my neurons a gatling gun , my eyes ascend
my fist I raise, with the heavens contend
God I trust you, all good all powerful, but me You won't defend?
Am i a fool to love you till my end?
I can't understand it all,
all this hate, to a bullet or a noose will I fall?
but still instinctually all I do is call
Call on a good God
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 12:57 PM UTC
blood
blood patter and splash
leads us concrete toward
tracing back til the scene
i’ve flashing thoughts of the brutality
the violence that must of cussed
between persons
in fear fray and inebriation
down the steps
my four year old child and I go
the greasing bleed in bronze putters
growing and leadening
on stone labours
glowing citrus the refrigeration
of the underpass
‘flips the bird' at the summer blaze
grey dead coral bricks of urination
seasoned in deep beading now cold
the broke up weapon
candy slates of brittle teeth
glass / bottle / beer /brown
the neck its' hilt
and the main mud of the bleeding
the flies are the thing
that bothers my ‘little nipper’
usually a flapper of queries on repetition
no other queries are raised
just eager for the vibration
of train carriages gatling over our heads
i stopper any words i may have on the matter
he holds my hand with his hot hand
we progress under a port arms
procession of caged floodlights
and walled in by fresh graffiti
fingers dripping retching for the guttering
Dec 22, 2023
Dec 22, 2023 at 3:05 PM UTC
MACHINE GUN FIRE MACHINE GUN FIRE MACHINE GUN FIRE
MACHINE GUN FIRE MACHINE GUN FIRE
MACHINE GUN FIRE
GATLING GUN IN THE FOREST.
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
Mr Kalashnikov I'll ask you nicely
Please don't point that thing at me
Laszlo Biro how nice to see you
Without you where would we be?
Mr Molotov may I remind you
You are in polite company
May I present the Earl of Sandwich
Do partake of his wares
And special desserts are served soon after
Presented in person by Anna Pavlova
The Duke of Wellington brought in some mud
Mr Macintosh is expecting a flood
Candido Jacuzzi and Joseph Pilates
Appear to be making friends
Henry Shrapnel and Joseph Guillotin
Who invited them?
Ferdinand von Zeppelin,
Perhaps you would like a schnapps?
Mr Winchester, Mr Colt, Mr Gatling, Mr Lewis
So many gunmen I'm alarmed I confess
May I trouble you Mr Hoover
To help tidy up the mess?
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
Retreat from the dancing Sun
Evading flaming streams of light
Shearing exposed trees, the Gatling gun
Fixed on the horizon fraying the Night
As it engulfs the lake in foreign shines
Simmering the boiling bodies of water
Emerging are the Sillhouettes, the divines
Created in constellations have brought Her
Shape-shifting the landscapes in its caress
Nature's networks entwined in silence
Glorify Her benevolence, Her enchanting dress
Illuminating celestial twilight discarding violence
Enshrouding earthly bodies with Her own star
Temperate tempests of the snow-forested land
Subdued in an eternal biome, isolated from afar
Suffering by the accord of God's arbitrary hand.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 5:38 PM UTC
Once I'm no longer awake
I'm put into dire straits
by my mind state
lying to make
me crying great
until I find a gate
to my one true fate.
My mind puts me in high and hung spots
with murderous guys and subplots
or both my eyes forming blood clots
the maze of my mind must get unclogged
leading me towards the one solve
retreating to what I know best
retreating to drugs
I come down off the eagle's nest
and onto the rug
where I crawl like a slug
from the high flying bugs
who want to eat my insides
and only exist in mind.
My brain gives me visions
of the **** I used to live in
making me want to give in
to the syringe's incisions
trapped on a crashing plane
I find a needle
to silence my thrashing brain
I stab the steel
screaming this isn't real
but that's just how it feels
after countless drug deals
it's all my brain reveals.
My mind gives me an option:
to face it
or to run
I can't embrace it
like it's the sun
and I'm the one
Gatling gun
spinning spun
until the chore is done
and the war is won
so I can score my dub
and get nightmare numb.
Once I find bliss sedated
the terror will have dissipated
but when I awake this is hated
bringing back the mist that faded
and all the chaos it created.
I wake up in a cold sweat
ready to face the day
I don't know how cold it gets
but I bet it's here to stay.
Feb 25, 2021
Feb 25, 2021 at 5:15 PM UTC
Breath in deep through the nose
out through the mouth
repeat to beat this cold sweat
has the room stopped spinning yet?
speed it up
maybe you had one too many cups
last night you got pretty tight
pretty wired
too tired to worry about being tired the next morning
smoking **** as soon as you got home's the reason you're moaning
feel the room go all vertigo
and clutch the **** stained toilet to your chest
flip that face to give the other cheek some cold tile love
but don't fall asleep in here
your alarm clock is in the other room
do you need to puke, **** or ****
you know you want to puke it out
cleansing expulsion of ****** fluids
decide to say ***** it
weave your way along the wall to your bed
fall don't flat breath rasping and rattling
like the firing up of a Gatling gun
close the eyes
and let the spins take you on a downward spiral
wake up and take six advil
the night always tries to steal the sun
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 9:14 AM UTC
These vibes live, and bleed right through me.
No need to speak, your emotive nature speaks what's left unsaid.
The leaches pierce what's not seen, merely to watch me bleed.
The final goal of these dark enigmas is to make love that's felt, dead.
Those who see most beauty, embrace the worst enigmas imaginable.
We pay the ultimate price, so that sincere healing can begin.
Knowing this, i gladly run to the Gatling gun; cause so many are unable.
My dying wish is to see those darkened eyes enlightened with a grin.
Embrace your dark enigma.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 4:05 PM UTC
for I ate all my peas,
minded my masters at school,
then learned to march manly,
and straight
to these trenches
that surely are maps of hell;
if there be such a place
beyond here
in this dead, grey pasture,
pocked by shells, and body parts
strewn about like pieces of a puzzle
that don't fit
Father said go, make England
proud, but I know you would not wish
this fate for me, or any of the children hiding
in these pits, waiting for the command
to become fodder for the Gatling gun,
the cannon; you would shed cataracts
of tears for all of us, if ghosts above
yet weep for the living
the ****** who will soon join you,
though none know when; surely you
will hear me cry your name, the way I have
seen them all do, with their last breath
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 3:47 PM UTC
I am the jumbling
the mumbling man
escaping gas of thoughts that pass into the night.
I burn the midnight sun that oils the gatling gun that chats incessantly and I believe that this is me.
I am conquistador
Quixote wanting more
I am the situation needing close examination somewhat of an exclamation mark
I am the dark.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 11:46 PM UTC
Pump them full
of lead in protest...
that's sure to
knock em dead.
Use all your ammunition,
leave em ****** read.
Be the Gatling that
mows em down,
the bullet lodged
inside their head,
Be black powder
burning imagery on
their minds unkind extinguishing the misery
that makes them lost
and blind
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 4:14 AM UTC
Tomorrow we'll run and the day will soon come when
the gatling, rattling, battling of guns will be done.
Today where aluminium wings hold dominion over
occupied lands and we don't even know whose hands hold the stick,
when the sick are just trying to not be among the dying,where the old seek the young and the young seek to be old,
who do we hold to be Kings?
aluminium wings?
If his will be done,tell me when will that be,and
will there be anyone left to see it?
Angels in choirs but who's pulling the wires,
who's fixing the scale
why is it that success seems to hinge on doors made to fail
who's derailing the train
why not try fixing the track
who wants to go back to an earlier age before rage took the lead?
If you read it must be true,the printed word would not lie to you but on
aluminium wings it now flies to you
what can you have faith in when the world you know caves in and the lights go out?
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
Loves begins like punched in teeth
What am I saying, once in a while
It starts, helicopter escapes.
No, thus love began in a
Shoot out serval building
Going up suddenly in flames
People running and wailing
Then love down pours a storm
Of hammers. No her kisses
Chainsaws on rampages
It's going to take u straight
Out of a door right into
A clutch of alligators, a
Assembly of Uzis
Cocked and singing
Your arrival
But baby, I'm coming back,
I'm going back in time to
The Moment I saw her, melted
To a bright plastic spot
Right before her eyes.
Have u ever seen a villain
Made of broken hearts
Construct a terminator
Of this heart a cyborg
Of destruction
Armed electric Gatling gun
I'm coming for that *** Love!!!!!!!!
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 11:17 PM UTC
The things I love include
Sunsets on a Friday evening and stargazing on a Friday night
Barber shop conversations
Talking to people about politics and sports
so in essence Barber shop conversations
I love going tubing and playing other water sports
Even though I can't swim, but so far I haven't drowned so far so I'll keep winging it
I love when people jump in after me when I'm drowning
Not only literally but figuratively
When I am submerged in fear as if it were water
When my heart beats against my chest as if it were trying to break free
When my neurons fire like a gatling gun, you my heroes, you save me from me
I love cocoa puffs, a lot
I also love when black women wear there hair in afros or puffs because it's something beautiful about all the shades of black and brown
I love Sunday morning church and Sunday afternoon lunch with family
I love ice cream
maybe because it is the closest thing to love I've ever found
Cold and sweet
it reminds me to enjoy the simple things in life because they won't always be around
I love girls with pretty smiles, and tasteful laughs
Brown eyes with a big heart
I love looking up at a night sky filled with stars and a heart wide open
and feeling, and knowing that God exists
I love talking to people that suffer with depression
I know that may be an odd confession but it's something real in the words they say
They see the world as it is not as it should be
Instead of hiding their flaws, their burdens , they show them so clearly
They remind me to be honest about me
Some things I love
Orange juice
Plantains, not bananas, plantains
I love SEEING black people in Unity
Whether it's to start a government or tear one down
With their hands over there hearts or knees on the ground
I don't care because for too long we as a people have been divided
So to stand for something, or to stand against something,
To run for president, and not from the KKK
To put our knees on the ground so the police doesn't put a knee in our backs
To put knowledge in our heads to prevent bullets in our bodies
I love seeing a room full of people, dressed to a tee and in one accord
I love seeing it as much as I love hearing Nat King Cole's "Chesnuts roasting on an open fire while drinking a cup of hot chocolate
on Christmas eve , next to the fireplace, surrounded with family
These are some things I love
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 1:55 AM UTC
There is a monster under your bed
With teeth razor sharp, eyes of glowing red
And every time you lay down your sweet head
He slips into your mind
Your beautiful dreams is what he finds
And with them he reassigns
He turns them all to nightmares
He wants you in despair
Showing you the greatest of terrors
It gives him the greatest rush
When your so scared, your voice is hushed
With your legs all turned to slush
In your dearms he loves to hop
To make you flip and flop
On your sweetest dreams he just chops
Every night you'll find him there
Waiting to bring you only despair
******* from your lungs the air
Showing you things that can be done
We really has lots of fun
Have you staring down the barrel of a Gatling gun
So I suggest after your daily bread
Before you scurry off to bed
You make sure all your prayers are said
There is no avoiding this nasty monster
For all your fears he fosters
All of your demons he will conjure
He'll make sure when he's through, You'll need a psychiatric doctor.
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 1:39 PM UTC
Snuffling, sneezing, rasping, breathing rattling like a Gatling gun, stuffed up, bunged up bring me a hot cup of something beginning with cognac.
but it's better than it was.
now I'm through the worst of it, thank god and paracetamol.
'He's getting on and in his state you'd think he'd want a tete a tete with Doctor Bob,
( no rhyme intended but the inner voice is such a **** )
Saturday and at the crack
the dawn is laughing
I'm staying in bed.
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 11:38 PM UTC
I could hear the images being steadily streamed at me by sattalites of unknown origin saying the war is coming so be prepared
I went out on my front porch and saw a black cloud approaching my direction filled with foreigners and locust and black flags waving intentionally decrying "the end is nigh" as butterflies with black wings landed on the unattended garden in my front yard
I knew I was meant to be a part of this war (as indeed we all are; pick a side) so I went and got my weapons of destruction: my bazooka, my Gatling gun, my Bowie knife, my furious intentions
The war was reaching my doorstep, and I decided I would join it, but not before I sat down and ate a slice of carvel cake
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 12:17 AM UTC
sap life's might
sweet meat played against its decay
fertile pocket of the grimace death
meat sweet pocket baby of pacing matey death
pant my way into the afterlife
punt one betraying thought after-naught
nutritious carriages rattling a plenish
gatling across the brains warlord terrain
raided til pointless
by the desert fetching in on all sides
Sep 7, 2022
Sep 7, 2022 at 11:04 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
To be fair
And I might say, perfectly clear
It his paradigm to prepare
Jeb Bush is quite aware
Of the tortoise and the hare
Despite fits and starts and a scare
He’s convinced that he’ll be there
And his victory is close it’s near
His burden was a ton
But when it’s all said and done
He’ll be the only one
Basking in the sun
Counting all his mon’
Happy to have run
Declared the favorite son
It didn’t take a Gatling gun
Jeb’s been
Mild mannered And meek
Going after What he seeks
Though it took a while to peak
It didn’t mean the man was weak
He’ll be dancing cheek to cheek
Showing off his new technique
A risen star so to speak
Now some might say
He’s dreaming
At least that’s how it’s seeming
But he’s plotting and he’s scheming
Quietly instead of screaming
See his future’s bright and gleaming
And he cannot help but beaming
At the others futile scheming
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 8:16 AM UTC
there's something about Josephine
or is my mind playing games
the quick assembly Gatling gun
the lion doll that tames
i met her on the Waltzer where
she fed me tales so strange
the fermented dog in a salty lake
the rifle without a range
an evening in a sparse living room
one chair, one fire and a screen
an ensuite rubber holding cell
a kitchen cat and cream
there's something about Josephine
i love her smile for sure
her collection of multi-vitamins
Her urge to cure and cure
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 2:27 PM UTC
Explain Krieg und Krise. Remember Nanjing. Hand twist nasturtium, trim Elijah in no other language but your own. Delicious, decked against scurvy despite punishing days world unwraps, made available to voracity, where would you build, on what day? Perfection unable to sit still comes towards ambush as peasant night squeaks to the border. Chanticleer in linear e phlox stammers discretely, hammers combination, blends tonality. Gravid as brook trout, orangerie cascades kanji. Bucolic spasm shimmering, weeping runes a la Giverny become Cycladic, veers off color’s lambent arsenal. Caustic repeats, Gatling interferes, hope bails, song recants. A Zebedee in Flemish hue cracks *** luck, lets out gurgle. But in good fortune, peaches to daisies, Abigail to titmouse, family is raised.
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 12:15 AM UTC