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mark jarrad Sep 2010
There's gonna be a gunfight
Out there in the street
All the stores closed early
To see who would be beat

The gunfighters got ready
Neither would back down
Each one gave the other
24 hours to leave town

Bifocal bill was ready
He said " That drunkards gonna pay !"
Then stood there shouting " Draw ya punk "
Facing the wrong way !!

The Whisky Kid stepped into sight
And staggered about the place
He looked bill up and down a while
Then fell down on his face !!

The crowd stood waiting eagerly
And as they booed and hissed
Bill squeezed off the first shot
To no surprise .. he missed !

The whisky kid then stood up.. swore
Cursed .. some foul abuse
Then called to bill " i need a drink !
" howz about we call a truce ?

Bill fired his gun repeatedly
Bullets spun off left and right
The whisky kid fell on the ground
The crowd went silent at this sight

The whisky kid just lay there
With a bottle in his hand
Bill grinned and said " The kid is dead !
But he was just too drunk to stand

The sheriff  said " i guess that's that "
And as they turned to go
Bill's gun slipped from it's holster
And blew off his big toe !!.
I wrote this one after watching a film about... sharks ! ..you thought i was gonna say cowboys... didn't you ? ..lol.
The **** kids gaol



Once upon a time there was this kid named Brian Mandler who was 14 years

Of age and was sort of obsessed with figuring out a way to catch and reform

Really dangerous criminals.   When he explained how he’ll do it to his family,

They told him that they don’t want to hear it and they all leave the room and

Brian went to his room and got onto his computer and started to track

Down some dangerous criminals and as well as that he will watch Australia’s

Most wanted and unsolved mysteries to make sure he is up to date with the

Goings on and when he catches them he will give them a pill which puts

Them to sleep and it makes them dream that they are on TV and Brian

Can watch it to keep him informed on their goings on.

When he saw the first criminal who was named David Perton Brown who

Was a real evil child snatcher who loves to pray on vonerable kids who

Haven’t got good lives as well as robbing them  and leaving them to die

and then he’ll do about 180 on the freeway trying to **** families

On their way to their holiday destination and quite often he succeeded but

This time Brian got onto his computer and said that he wants to get David

And put him on a early morning childrens show called the Saturday Morning

Cartoon hour where he’ll meet people left, right and centre and most of those

People will be children and he’ll have guests who will give him heaps for the

Crimes that he did and also he’ll have a visit from the police every 4 Saturdays

To really check up on him but he had to make the kids unaware by posing to

Make sure that kid’s say no to drugs and lifts with strangers and that meant

That the host could try something outside.

As well as that Brian put him on a nightly music show because some of his

Victims are now teenagers who like music and Brian made him the sort of

Host that will constantly goof up a lot.  The program was called The Talent

Quest and he’ll be teamed up with 2 police officers who are making sure there

Is no funny stuff going on.

Brian planned to keep him in his little gaol for a long time till he starts to settle

Down a bit.

The next criminal is Joshua Tartwright who is a vicious modern day pirate who

Takes adults over 40 and holds them captive in his little boat and he has been

Doing this for about 12 years and Brian got onto his computer and told it

That he wants Joshua to on the pirates of the Carribean TV series and keep him there till he realises that he is no match for those pirates

And he doesn’t feel like kidnapping them anymore but this was hard to get him

To take the drug and Brian had to get to rough police officers to hold him down

And then force feed him till he his knocked completely out and then his life as

A television star started.   Joshua was excited about being on a pirate show and

He wanted to email all his friends but he was stuck in another world and also

He was the one the pirates wouldn’t leave alone and he felt weird and wanted

The drug to wear off but we all know that when it wears off it’s dinner time.

As he started the pirate show it was hard for him to be his own man because he

Was kidnapped straight away it was hard for him to understand what this

Dream meant and was trying to tell Brian that he wants his blood.

Brian jumped on the computer and said how about we keep him captive there

For 2 hours and then it would be dinner time and h’ll enjoy that.

Meanwhile Brian wasn’t scared one little bit and watched the television to

Catch another criminal and it was Mark Dellar who tried to make John the

Baptist (the religious fellow) look evil by coming into the Christian church and

Preaching that John the Baptist was evil and every thing that he did

John the Baptist was telling him to do it and the Christians were very

Upset and screamed so loudly as Mark stole money from everyone in

There and Brian got onto his computer and said that he wants to put

Mark in his gaol and make him a religious guru to be put onto Television

At 5 am every weekday morning as well as listen to good people’s

Prayer requests and he must help them as well.   The first request was a

Man who is terminally ill and there is no way he will get out of it and

This man yelled at him in the prayer request that he sent and Mark

Tried to tell him that he has nothing to worry about because God

Is on your side and Brian got onto his computer and made the walls

Cave in and knocked Mark out and the man just ran away saying

We won the first battle and Mark woke up and he had a cup of coffee

And a biscuit waiting for him and he was relieved but there were more

Strange cases in his dream and Brian is there to reform him.

Brian thought it was a good job he gave him as a Television preacher helping people get better than making people feel Worse which what he was doing..

Brian watched more of Australia’s most wanted and saw a group of

Violent and dangerous armed robbers who were knocking over 7

Eleven stores and rich people’s houses as well as stopping the

Families from going out and having fun and Brian had his little

Plan to get them in his little gaol.     He wanted to play them at their

Own game by pretending he was a rich powerful man because

He had more dangerous things than any robber like his booster

Shot in which Brian wanted then to be cops in televisions cop

Drama ‘cop department” in which they deal with dangerous criminals

Like them each day and Brian thought that they will reform if they

Knew the kind of trauma they were putting their victims through and Brian

Keeps them there forever if they don’t reform even if it eventually kills

Them so the crooks can’t escape because Brian is too powerful for

Any of them.

Brian sat their laughing at the armed robbers playing cops and at

One moment they were locked in a security vault which had a

Bomb in it which is set to explode in 20 minutes and Brian went

On the computer and said let the bomb go off and then they will

Be put back in their beds and we will have lunch for them before

We torture them some more and then Brian sat down and said

What a job well done but there are still heaps of dangerous criminals

He needs to catch yet

Brian turned on America’s most wanted and there was the Texan ******

Who preys upon women in their 20s by luring them into his panel van

And keeping them ******* in his back shed till they are killed and Brian

Said that he wants to catch the Texan ****** and start him on stint on

General hospital where he will play a young woman who is the target

Of a never ending ****.

The police took the drug off Brian and went straight to the Texan rapists

House to give him the drug and at first he wondered why he needed to

Take these drugs because he wasn’t mental he said and there is nothing

Wrong with him and he refused to take them and tried to escape and

Then Brian got onto his computer to make him too slow to get away and

Brian was happy to get him onto General hospital and make the old ladies

Very happy.

When he first fell asleep there was a ****** at the end of his bed and wanted

To get within his sheets and really let him have it and the Texan ****** was

Screaming so loud stuff like” Let me go I’m a man not a woman but this

****** just heard the innocent lady scream and there was no way that he

Was to escape and Brian was laughing like crazy at the Texan rapists bad ordeal

And went onto the computer and said I want him to be attacked every day

To understand what it was like for his victims and they started to employ

People to play the rapists straight away and Brian was happy to see that this

Plan of his is working very well.

Brian was the envy of all his friends but noone apart from his best friend

Thomas knew about it because of the closeness of their friendship,

Brian’s secret was safe with him.

Brian and Thomas went to the park to have a drink under the tree

Together and talked about their lives and Brian isn’t aloud to talk about

His gaol life just in case anyone was around and at the moment noone

Could suspect anything.

After Brian had a break he watched more of Australia’s most wanted and

Saw there was a man wanted for bank fraud who is on the run in Brisbane

And Brian wanted to track him down and give him the drug that puts

Him in his little gaol where Brian will put him on as victim of fraud who

Was on Brian’s fake edition of 60 minutes until he realises that what

He did is wrong and that he will never do it again and when the police

Arrived at his house to give him Brian’s magical reforming drug he put

Up a fight and started to flee away on foot down the street that he lives

In with some police following him and others contacting Brian to use his

Powers to make him slower and catch him and give the drug to him and

Put the fraud man who doesn’t tell people his name into his little gaol and

When they did Brian was so happy of all the crooks he caught without

A worry in the world , Brian watched the episode of 60 minutes and

Really enjoyed him suffering because of all the people he made suffer

He needs a taste of his own medicine.

They asked him what is it like to be a victim of fraud and do you think you will

Ever see that kind of money again and he told them that he wants the money he

Stole so he could go to the Bahamas and cruise around looking for chicks and

Brian went straight to the computer and said keep ribbing him because it’s fun to

Make this guy suffer because what he did was terrible so rib something fierce.

Brian watched this music show and He was happy that the young people who were at the music festival were

Really letting him have it and this really entertained Brian a lot and

Then he switched it over to the Talent quest where our criminal was being

Told he was talentless and was upset with the whole outcome of it all, he

Threatened to jump off the top building and be dead forever and Brian

Went onto the computer and said that there is no way that he will die if he

Jumps off the roof to the ground, in fact he will just wake up and a guard will

Be there to keep an eye on him and now he was aware of the fact that noone

Could escape from Brian’s little gaol.

The Saturday morning cartoon show went very well with the child snatcher

Being teased by 2 11 year old girls and one 7 year old boy  and he nearly lost it and Brian was so happy that they were teasing him.  Then he told the kids that

He will **** them all and Brian went onto the computer and said don’t try any

Funny stuff because there is no escape for you now fella,and then he put

one of the cartoons which was our modern day pirate who was being tortured by Blackbeard and Brian was happy because this man needed to know why he is

in this little gaol of Brian’s, and then he went onto his computer and said to

Blackbeard too never let him get free because what he was doing to these

Adults was a very bad thing and then he went back to his chair and laughed at

Blackbeard the pirate torturing this modern day pirate like a lamb to the

Slaughter.

Blackbeard also made to walk the plank and Threatened to cut his head off

Agreed that it could be fun to see him suffer.   Like what it was like for him

In the end of his life and the pirate said “please don’t **** me please don’t ****

Me I am a modern pirate and in days to come pirates have a lot of vegeance

Than in these times” and Brian went to the computer and told them to

Chop his head off once and then keep trying to do it so he could suffer

And that would be heaps of fun Brian thought.

Brian turned it over to general hospital where his Texan ****** was screaming

In the back boot of a car and noone could hear him except for Brian who was

Watching him and he got up and wrote on the computer “He wants them to

Feed his body to the sharks at 11.59 am so he could be ready for lunch.

He switched the TV over to the cop show where our armed robbers thought they are in the perfect job because there were no crimes around so they just sat down

And relaxed and Brian wasn’t happy and went to this computer and told

Everybody to put on a few situations to make them really suffer like they

Did to the police on Earth and then suddenly there was a call on the 000

Saying there was a mother and her 13 year old son locked in their panic

Room while the robbers were having a field day robbing the place

and the cops went straight there only to find out that this was their first

test, because when the reached them the crooks turned on them and

left the mother and 13 year old son in the panic room and Brian went

to his computer and said I want these so-called policeman to try to save the

mother and son instead of trying to **** the police and if they don’t they will

flunk the test.  So one of the policemen went into the house and tried to

save the mother and son while the other two were having a gunfight and the

policeman who was in the house saving the victims couldn’t get the door

opened and screamed for his mates to help him but they were too busy

having a gunfight in the front lawn with the neighbours scared for each others

safety, and Brian went to his computer and said give these ****** gunfighters

a wake up pill because they don’t seem to realise what is really important

here and that is saving the victims and not killing the cops like cowboys

and Indians you ****** fools.

While all the caught prisoners eating their meals Brian watched Australia’s most

Wanted to try to catch some more crooks and they told him about the

Charnwood child snatcher who lived in “as the name suggests” Charnwood

And he took street kids off the streets and he would tell them that he has the

Perfect home for them and as a matter of fact he would tie the kids up

And when they die of starvation or dehydration he would take them out

To the cow paddock and let the cows pick at them and When Brian heard

The details he got straight up to his computer and said that he wants to

Put the Charnwood child snatcher on a new show called Sugary who is

A very witty and smart seal who is befriended by this 8 year old boy who

Is the Charnwood child snatcher because Brian wanted to teach him

Not to destroy the family’s lives, like he did when he kidnapped their

Children from them.

Brian sat down and watched the first episode and they had this evil

Genous who wanted to take the seal and sell him for seal meat and

The boy was so determined to stop this crook he would stay out and

Guard Sugary all night and hours and hours went by and noone turned

Up and the boy was determined not to leave because Sugary was his

Favourite pet.

When the crooks got there the boy jumped up and said” If you want

Sugary you have to take me as well” and the men said “Whatever”

And shoved the kid in a bag with the attempt the **** him and then

**** Sugary soon after and Brian got up to his computer, don’t let them

Be killed, just keep him ******* till the end when the parents come to save

Them and make sure that sugary is safe as well.

Then Brian sat down and saw The father rescue the boy and Sugary from

This evil genious and the evil genious said I will get you next time boy

Next time heh heh heh and then you won’t escape from that.

The Charnwood child snatcher woke up and found himself locked in a room

And he looked outside and a lady has a cup of coffee for him and he took

The coffee and thanked the lady and sat down until it was time to take his

Reforming pill.

Brian was happy because the Charnwood child snatcher was forced to learn

The perfect family bond between parents and children.

About 5 hours later than that Brian sat down and watched the 6 o clock news

And they informed everybody with Christmas approaching there was man

Who escaped from prison who is a good santa claus impersonator and every

Christmas he would go to Santa School and pass the test and then he’ll be

Assigned to working in one of the shopping malls and that doesn’t sound

Like such a crime and Brian was thinking this is a happy story until he heard

The next bit where he will get the kids to put their name and address so he

Knows where to go on Christmas eve and then he studies when the kids

Will be alone in the house and comes to their homes
There it was on the calendar, Saturday May 11,2013. Big red circle around the date and written in black pen in the middle…SPELLING BEE. Plain as day, you couldn’t miss it. One of the biggest days of the school year for geeks and nerds alike.





Today was the day. In two hours, The 87th Annual Cross Cultural Twin Counties Co-Educational Public School Spelling Bee, would begin.  This was a huge event in the history of Thomas Polk Elementary School. It would be one of the biggest, if not THE BIGGEST in the history of The Twin Counties.



There would be twenty-one schools represented with their best and brightest spellers. The gymnasium would be full of parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and media representatives. Yes, invitations had been sent out to both of the local papers in The Twin Counties, and both had replied in the affirmative. Real media, in Thomas Polk Elementary School, with a shared photographer….the big time had come to town.



Inside the gymnasium, work had been going on all night in preparation of the big event. The Teachers Auxiliary Group had set up bunting across the stage, purple and white of course, for the school colours. The school colours were actually purple and cream, but, there was a wedding at Our Lady of The Weeping Sisters Baptist Church later, and they had emptied the sav-mart of all of the cream coloured bunting and crepe paper. So, white it would be.



It looked spectacular. There were balloons tied to the basketball net at the south end of the gym. It wouldn’t wind up after the last game, so something had to be done to hide it. Balloons fit the bill. There was three levels of benches on the stage for the competitors, a microphone dead center stage and two 120 watt white spot lights aimed at the microphone.  Down in front, was a judges table, also covered in bunting and crepe, with a smaller microphone sitting in the middle. There was a cord connecting it to the stage speaker system, taped to the gym floor with purple duct tape, just to fit in. Big time, big time.



The piece de resistance sat at the right side of the judges table. An eight foot high pole, with an electronic stop watch and two traffic lights, donated from the local public utilities commission, in red and green. The timer had been rigged up by the uncle of one of the competitors, possibly to gain an advantage, to help keep the judges honest in their timings. Besides, it looked fancy, and it had a cool looking remote control.











The gym was filled to capacity. One hundred and Seventy Five Entrants, visitors, judges and media were crammed into plastic chairs, benches, and whatever lawn chairs the Teachers Auxiliary were able to borrow, that weren’t being used for the wedding at the Baptist Church. It was time to begin….



The three judges came in from the left of the clock, and sat down. The entrants were all nervously waiting on stage on the benches. The media representatives were down front, for photo opportunities, of course.



Judge number one, in the middle of the table clicked on the microphone in front of him and turned to the crowd. In doing so, he spilled his water on his notes and pulled the duct tape loose on the floor in front.



“Greetings, and welcome to the 87th Annual Cross Cultural Twin Counties Co-Educational Public School Spelling Bee.” There was some mild clapping from the family members, along with a few muffled whistles and two duck calls from the back. The weak response was due to the fact that most of the parents either had small fans (due to the heat), donated from the local Funeral Home, or hot dogs and beer (from the tailgating outside), in their hands. Needless to say, it was still a positive response.



The judge carried on…”Today’s competition brings together the top spellers in the region of the Twin Counties to do battle on our stage. All of the words used today, have been selected from a number of sources, including Webster’s Dictionary, from our own school library, Words with Friends from the inter web, keeping up with modern culture, and finally from two books of Dr. Suess that we had lying around the office. Each competitor will get one minute to answer once his or her word has been selected. We ask that you please refrain from applause until after the judges have confirmed the spelling, and please no help to the competitors. We now ask that you all turn off any electronic media, cell phones, pagers, etc. so we can begin”.



He then turned to the stage and asked all competitors to remove their cell phones and put them in the bright orange laundry basket, usually reserved for floor hockey sticks. Each student deposited their phones, all one hundred and thirty-seven of them in the basket.  We were ready to start.





“Competitor number one…please approach the microphone and state your name and your school” said Judge number two. Judge number two would be in charge of calling the students up, it seemed. She was the librarian at Thomas Polk. She had typical librarian glasses, with the silver chain attached to the arms, flaming red hair, done up in a bee hive uplift, just for the event, and was called Miss Flume. She was married, but, being the south, she was always addressed as Miss.



The first student advanced to the front of the stage. She had bright pink hair, held in place with a gold hairband, black shoes, and a yellow jumper. She looked like a walking number 2 pencil. The two duck calls came from the back of the gymnasium along with scattered applause. All three judges turned and looked to the back, and then turned to face the young girl.



“My name is Bobbie Jo Collister, I am a senior at Jackson Williams School of Fine Arts and Music”. “Thank you Bobbie Joe” said Miss Flume. Bobbie Jo, smiled nervously and put on her glasses. “Your word is horticulture” announced Judge number one, “horticulture”.  Bobbie Jo took a breath and without asking for a definition, usage, root of the word or anything, just ripped through it without fail in three point two seconds, according to the mammoth timepiece at the end of the table. After conferring, the judges clicked on the green street light and she sat down, amidst more duck calls and clapping.



Student number two went through the entire process as did students three through eight. Each one had glasses, no surprise there, and were all dressed in monochromatic themes. Together, they looked like a life sized box of crayolas ready for a halloween party. Each child spelled their words correctly and were subsequently cheered and applauded.



Student nine then approached the microphone, stopping about a good seven feet short and three feet right of it. “My name is Oliver Parnocky” squeaked the lad. “I go to George W. Bush P.S 19 and am a senior.” Miss Flume, grabbed the small mike in front of her and said “Oliver…put on your glasses and move over to the microphone.” She leaned into the other judges, and said “He goes to my school, he doesn’t like wearing them much, and he’s always outside at recess talking to the flagpole after everyone else has come inside”.



“Oliver, please spell Dichotomy” said Judge number one. Judge two started the clock and they waited….and waited…then out burst this voice….DICHOTOMY…D I C H O T O M E E, , no, wait..D I C K O….****!” The crowd erupted in laughter, Oliver was busted. The judges conferred, and after informing poor Oliver they had never heard it spelled quite that way with an O **** at the end, they triggered the red light and Oliver left the stage to sit in the audience with his folks.



The next three kids, all with glasses, like it was part of an unwritten uniform dress code for the day, all advanced and sat down. The next entrant, number thirteen, luckily enough stood from the back and struggled down to the front of the stage. There were gasps and some snickering from the crowd. She was taller than the previous competitors,  and a little more pregnant as well. “Please state your name” said Miss Flume. “My name is Betty Jo Willin and am a senior at

Buford T. Pusser Parochial School”. At this announcement there was a cheer of “Got Wood at B.T. Pusser” from the crowd. The judges turned, asked for silence and the offending nuns returned to their seats. “Miss Willin, how old are you exactly?” asked Judge number one. “Twenty Two sir”. “And you say you are a senior?” “Yes sir” came the reply. Betty Jo was shuffling a bit as the pressure on her bladder must have been building standing there in her delicate condition. After conferring, judge number one said “That sounds about right, your word is PROPHYLACTIC”. The few people in the crowd that knew the meaning of the word laughed, while the rest continued eating their hot dogs and drinking their sodas and beers. “Please give a definition sir..I don’t believe I know that word”. The judges looked at each other with a definite “I’m not surprised” look and rattled off the definition. When she asked for usage, the judges really didn’t know what to do. Should they give a sentence using the word or explain the usage of a prophylactic, which regardless would have been too late anyway.

After a modicum of control was reached, she attempted the word, getting all tongue tied and naturally messing it up. The red light was triggered and she left the stage.



More strange outfits, bowties, hair nets, jumpers, clip on ties, followed. It looked like a fashion parade from Goodwill and The Salvation Army rolled into one. Most attempted their words and were green lighted onwards to the next round, while those who failed, were red lighted back to the crowd and the tailgate party in the parking lot. As each competitor was eliminated, the betting board that was being manned outside by one father was updated with new odds and payouts.



The first round was approaching an end with only three kids left. “Number nineteen please approach and state your name” said Miss Flume. He plume of red hair was starting to sag and was sliding slowly off of her head due to the humidity in the gymnasium.



Number nineteen came forth, glasses, tape across the bridge like half of the previous spellers. He was wearing the most colourful shirt that any of the judges had ever seen. It was not from Dickies, they surmised. “I go to J.J. Washington P.S 117 and my name is Mujibar Julinoor Parkhurloonakiir”. The judges froze. He obviously was new to the district. They had never heard a name like that before, ever. Not even in Ghandi. This was a powerful name. There had been sixteen cominations of Bobby, Bobbie, Billie, Jo, Joe, Jimmy, Jeff, Johnson and Jackson prior to Mujibar. Stunned, judge one asked “Son, can you spell that please?”

Mujibar, not sure what to do, spelled his name, unsure of why he was being asked to do so. “Thank you son” said Miss Flume. The odds on the betting board in the parking lot changed right then.



“That boy is gonna win fer sure” said Jimmy Jeff Willerkers. Jimmy Jeff ran the filling station two concessions over and had fifty bucks on his nephew Bobby Jeff, who had already flamed out on “yawl”. “How was he supposed to know  it had something to do with boats?” asked Jimmy Jeff. “That Mujibar is gonna win…jeez, he’s been spelling that name for years….anything else is gonna be easy breezy.” The odds went down on Mujibar and the money was flying around that parking lot faster than the rumour that the revenue people were out looking for stills in the woods.



“Mujibar…please spell SALICIOUS”…asked the now red pancake headed Miss Flume. Doing as he was told, Mujibar, spelled the word, gave the root, a definition and a brief history of the word usage in modern literature. Judge number one was furiously scribbling down notes, and trying to figure out how he would get a bet down on this kid before round two started.



Entrant number twenty from Jefferson Davis Temple and Hebrew school advanced which brought up the final entrant from round one. “Number Twenty-One please advance to the front of the stage”. After adjusting his glasses, after all he didn’t want a repeat of what poor Oliver did, he approached. “My name is C.J. Kay from William Clinton P.S 68” Judge one, confused by the young man’s name asked him to repeat it. “C.J. Kay” said C.J. “What is your full last name boy, you can’t just have a letter as your last name….what is the K for?” “Sir, my last name is Kay”, said C.J. “It’s not a letter”. “It most certainly is son…H I J K L…rattled off judge one. “It has to stand for something, you just can’t be CJK, that sounds like a Canadian radio station or worse yet, one of them hippy hoppy d.j fellers my granddaughter listens to. What is the K for?”. C.J said sir “My name is Christopher John Kay… not K, Kay” and then spelled it out. This only confused judge one more than he already was, and the extra time figuring out his name was doing nothing to Miss Flume’s hairdo.



“Christopher John….please spell MEPHISTOPHOLES “ said Judge one, after realizing he was never going to find out what the K was for. The crowd was getting restless and wanted to get to the truck to get re-filled and change their bets. C.J. knocked it out of the park in 2.7 seconds…”faster than Lee Harvey Oswald at a target shoot in Dallas”, one man said.



After a ten minute break, to get drinks, ***, re-tape some glasses and prop up Miss Flumes ruined plumage round two was set to begin. This went faster as the words were getting tougher, although randomly selected, judge one was inserting a few new words to keep his chance of winning with Mujibar alive. PALIMONY, ARCHEOLOGY, PARSIMONIOUS, TRIPTOTHYLAMINE , and many other words were thrown at the competitors. Each time the list of successful spellers was reduced, and the amount of clapping and the duck calls were less.

The seventh round began with just Mujibar, B.J. Collister and C. J Kay left. Before the round began the judges reminded the crowd that the words were random, and to please keep the cheering until the green light had been lit. There were more duck calls at this announcement and very little applause. Jerry Jeff was still manning the betting board, the tailgate barbeque was done, and there was only about thirty people left in the gymnasium.



The balloons on the basketball net had long since lost their get up and go, and were now hanging limply like coloured rubber scrotums and were flatter that Miss Flumes hair, which incidently, was now starting to streak the right side of her face from sweat washing out the dye. She was beginning to look like an extra in a zombie film with a brilliant orange red streak across her forehead.



“C.J.” said judge one, “please spell ARYTHMOMYACIN”. C.J. gave it a valiant effort ,but unfortunately was incorrect and the red light sent him off to the showers. This left B.J. Collister and the odds on favourite, Mujibar. The crowd was down to twenty seven now, Bobbie Jo’s folks and Mujibars immediate family.



Round after round were completed with neither one missing a word. Neither one blinked. It was a gunfight where both shooters died. These two were good, and it was never going to end. Judge one leaned over and told the other judges, “we have to finish this soon….I’m due at the wedding over to the Baptist church for nine o’clock to bless the happily marrieds and drive them both to the airport. They’re off to Cuba for their honeymoon.” The others agreed…”C.J. please spell MINISCULE said Miss Flume”. She did so, without a problem. This caused judge one to yell out “Holy Christmas” just as Mujibar got to the microphone. Thinking this was his word, he started as the judges were giving him his word. Seizing the opportunity to end it…judge one woke up judge three who red lighted poor Mujibar, ending his run at spelling immortality. “Sorry son, you tried, but, today a Mujibar lost and a B.J won.”. Before he tried to correct himself, knowing what he had just said didn’t sound quite right, Miss Flume congratulated both finalists and began the award presentations.



Thankfully, next year the eighty eighth version of The Annual Cross Cultural Twin Counties Co-Educational Public School Spelling Bee will be in the other county. Now the job of sorting out the cell phones in the orange basket begins. By the way, Betty Jo Willin had a boy …you can just guess what she named it!
not a poem, as you can see...it's a rough draft of a short story. I would love feedback on the content, not the spelling or grammar as it is in a rough stage still and needs editing.
Grey May 2016
You look me in the eyes and spit,
          And I kick dust on the wet spot on the ground.
This is how we are, a conversation; you never cared to call me something like my name.
           I never cared to see you in any way but under my boot with blood on your teeth.
               There is no moon above us, even when the sun’s gone to hide at the nearest bar.
This is not a war that can be won with pickets and strikes.
The only way to end the battle
                                                Is that someone has to die.
        A standoff only ends when one is left standing, it’s the rules,
but you never did care for rules, and breaking is easier than bending.
               You never apologize and I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth.
            The sun’s gone to hide at the local bar and it drinks whiskey shots like water.
It has seen us fight.
            The moon doesn’t want to come out, stays tucked safe in its bed.
It has heard stories.
                         Only the stars act as referee, calling out which one of us died better.
            It’s all an act, a ******* contest, and you sure are good at wetting the ground.
                 I’m better at covering up where the bloodstains were,
                         stain chicken feathers red as the sunset, Please, I ask you,
Let him win one last time.

                               The hourglass broke, the sand mixing with the red clay,
And you claim to know that his time is up.
                 I claim to know that you’re a lying ******* who takes what isn’t his.
                        And you claim that I’m just a child,
                                           but children don’t know why their knuckles are
bleeding
                                           and children don’t get why their jaws hurt
                                           and children only bleed when summer is restless
                                           and children never pull real guns anyway.
          You brought a knife to a gunfight,
                 a gun to face the firing squad, a one child firing squad,
                    knees stuck together with blood and chicken feathers.

Please, you ask me,
Let me win one last time.

                     And I learn that breaking is easier than bending;
And I learn how my name sounds on your lips.
Olivia Kent Dec 2014
The  sky hung full of ******, above the execution bell.
The crow circles overhead irreverently, dressed in his Sunday best.
In the bar the dead men fought.
From the counter outside they flew.
Spilled into the street in front of a few.
Two cowboys, guns in both of their hands, wrathful and vengefully meeting demands.
The young lady with the mess of blonde hair, was heard to squeal,
"Oh Jimmy, fight not over me, let him go, let him go free".

The lady in the emerald hat cried "Jimmy and Jason, please stop that."
I hate it when you play with guns.
One of the problems when you have stroppy twin sons.
Their weapons discarded into the bin.
After the gunfight that no brother won.
(C) Livvi
In the current situation of war I liked this idea .
Britney Kempker Nov 2012
What have you done to me,
a murderer is fun to be?
Will you use that gun you see,
put that bullet right through me?
Maybe a pistol isn't right for you,
maybe a knife with fight for few,
to see the crimson bright gore through,
you have ruined the white score new,
the anguish is obvious at the sight for you.
But pleasure meant so much more,
than the gentle touch of a *****.
That's what made you think,
it makes me shrink,
makes me drink,
I'm at the brink,
I'm the missing link.
Load your gun,
you think you've won.
Grab your knife,
and take my life.
In the end,
its you my friend,
that ceases to wake.
I felt you.
I, felt, You.
Before I even met you.
I had dreamed of you since the 90's
and never known it;
Through episodes of byker grove and Dawson's Creek,
I longed to be the rebel in the story,
and we would ******* into the sunset.

I felt you
In every GCSE and A-level result;
Elation and deflation of achievement,
which led to me to feel the same
in kissing one boy, whilst dating another,
like I was tasting ying-yang in my mouth
pretending it was double dip; sweet and sour,
and realising I never much liked sweets anyway.

I felt, you,
From the take-off at MCR
through the greyhound at NYC central station,
to the VIA rail stop at SBURY.
I felt you in the air of the smoking car,
in the hard ******* in the train toilets,
to falling in love with a twist I was never meant to curl.
And 10yrs later I can still tell you what that tasted like.

I felt you.
In every dance move I learnt to attract a beneficial gaze.
In each time my lover ****** me and left me.
When I was lost in textbooks
and I fell in love with the wrong type of girl;
And as she drowned me in champagne, and I ****** her with my eyes,
I felt, I was a fool for, you.

I felt you,
Each time the make-up *** started,
to when the bruises began to heal;
To when I walked away and became the hunter,
with my tequila shot eyes casting a weary bedroom glaze.
I felt you as I licked each shot glass clean through,
and put on my moves, snorted a line of gunpowder,
and ****** to the beat of the dance.

I felt you,
In every ***** I kissed,
Knelt on my knees, watching the time,
as ***, sweat and spit filled my mouth and nose,
and I thought thank god for that, when it was over,
and I got to light a cigarette,.
I felt you,
As she whispered, panting and hoarse,
'no-one's ever ****** me that good'

I felt you.
As I brought the girl home for the first time,
and she threw red wine round the flat
and ****** me like it was my birthday on the 4th of July whilst celebrating Holi.
She ******* made me that night.
She was ******, and she still tasted like water after getting lost in the desert.
In the red wine we drank, I felt you,
from the seed, to the sun, to the water, to the grape,
as you fell dripping down my throat.


I. Felt. You.
The first time a man undressed
in front of me and I blushed,
whilst running my tongue across my teeth, tasting lust and my heartbeat.
I felt you in each ******, each stare that wanted to slap me for *******, then **** me harder each time; in each bead of sweat that would be licked from my body, to the way I was smelt, to the look in his eyes
and each cup of tea we drank copiously throughout the night.
I felt you as a power was unleashed and surged throughout my body and mind in cruise control.

I felt you.
In everything I ever wanted in my teenage rebel dreams.
In everything I ever wanted in learning the bitter sweet crescendo of taste
In everything I ever wanted in a worldwide love affair.
In everything I ever wanted in a 5yr cocktail world with a dancing girl
In everything I ever learnt from a hidden bruise
In everything I ever wanted in salt, lime and a gunfight, stalking my prey
In everything I ever licked, ******, devoured and became a karmic bruise on my heart
In everything I ever found in the never-ending well of love and heartbreak
In everything I ever learnt about loving something that was broken.

I know this.
I felt it as you kissed me,
and I felt you move
like the universe was between us, within us
and we were joined once more,
by a lip's caress.
Jimmy Solanki Feb 2014
Rivets of words
Like swords in a gunfight
Silence roars
Like love, without light
A singularity
of frightful might
Ravages the desert
and storms the memories, in
That little backyard of your own

Stories you shall tell
of places far and near
Reminiscence is cute
But it won't last, dear
A billion sparks
Drive you close to tears
Won't I wonder, whats inside
closing your eyes, its
That little backyard of your own

Denial is just a game
Still you run forever
Looking back again
A dreadful fever
Nobody wants to die
Nobody can live forever
Won't you hold my hand
For a moment, in
That little backyard of your own
Remy Mar 2013
I. i was seventeen and bitter and you
knew nothing, old man.
because you said, "look how she hurts him, using her gender--"
(no, her ***, her womb ******* sultry eyes they've sexualized since age five,
to make mincemeat of astronaut dreams, to make docile queens breed and)
"-- as a weapon"
would you not bring, at least, a knife to a gunfight, old man?
(have you ever had nothing but a knife against a bullet, 500mph to your head?)

II. i hate you. i hear my words in your voice,
in that awkward cadence, like you're telling an sanitized moral,
some comfortable truth, perhaps, or maybe the secret to your
moderate publishing success. can you leave my words alone

III. i'd like to apologize, maybe, a little, for the insolence.
i'm not really a rude person.
i'd like to prove that while staying honest, but what would i say?
"i'm sorry i'm a ****." "i'm sorry you're a ****"
i'm sorry this world's a ****. i can't do the reading tonight
how to deal with ****** english teachers
Bob B Oct 2016
The day starts out like any day--
A Saturday morning just like most others.
The diner is buzzing with customers:
Grandparents, kids, fathers, mothers.

Breakfast specials, waitresses dashing
To and fro--no time for slacking.
Each waitress proudly displays her handgun.
(This is a state where everyone's packing.)

Somebody hears a man complain
To the waitress, saying his eggs aren't done.
He doesn't like how she responds,
So he kills her with one shot from his gun.

Suddenly all hell breaks loose.
Bullets go flying; people are screaming.
Covered with blood, a survivor says later,
"It happened so fast, I thought I was dreaming."

Shrieking at seeing the waitress fall,
A young mother aims at the shooter,
Missing him and instead sending
A bullet into the town's prosecutor,

Whose wife shoots at the impulsive mother,
Hitting the woman smack in the head.
Meanwhile, the husband points his gun
At his wife's killer, shooting her dead.

Customers everywhere dive for cover,
Aiming their guns in the air and firing.
Popping noises drown out the screams
And moans of people hit and expiring.

Running out of the kitchen a cook
Shoots his gun in all directions,
Missing his targets and yet hitting someone
And displaying his shooting imperfections.

Someone else has better aim--
Or a random bullet plays its part--
For Henry, the cook, falls to the floor
When a bullet pierces his heart.

The busboy--having been grazed in the face--
Shoots into the chaotic river
Of mayhem and bullets. He is killed
When he is shot through the stomach and liver.

Pockmarked with holes, the once-cheerful joint
Is now streaked and splattered with blood.
Survivors will never forget hearing
Each bang and scream, followed by a thud.

Everybody gets caught in the crossfire.
The rounds spare neither adult nor child.
(Fifteen people lose their lives
By the time all the reports are compiled.)

When the police arrive at the diner,
In horror they observe the slaughter.
The sheriff suddenly screams out in agony
When he notices his blood-covered daughter.

On the wall, a TV is playing.
Somehow it has managed to survive.
On the news an NRA
Spokesman is being interviewed live,

Saying that America needs more guns
And that gun regulation is obscene.
Aiming his gun at the TV, the sheriff
Pulls the trigger and blows out the screen

- by Bob B
TYRAN Mar 2016
Oh, no.
These dreams will keep me up at night.
Matrix in dodging a gunfight.
Hell entered my yard
but I lit the match like
it wasn't that hard.
It's best you recollect the fact
the boy you overlooked would never see you pass the past
to greatness in a purpose that will always be in tact.
My suggestion is you cannot move back
just push it to the front.
Feet is moving slower every time you hit the blunt.
360 in my aura to mistake it for a stunt.
Rabbit hole awaits me while the world is too loud.
Silence in discovery of your future abound.
Greatness awaits us all.
mark john junor Apr 2015
there were lights blazing to the east
but her eyes were fixed to the west
someplace out in that darkness he rode into the night
with his gun in hand to regulate the doubters
she lay in the aftermath of the gunfight
with her cards and flowers
wondering where she had gone so wrong
wondering if she would ever get that white picket fence
with the two kids and all the fixins of her dreams
dawn begins to do its silent dance
as she worried the edge of her dress
and looked so like a lost angel
fallen from grace but holding her own
she will make breakfast for the townsmen
and serve up the hard liquors
just a matter of time she thinks to herself
before he will come back this way
take her up to the bedroom with promises on his grin
and for a moment she will believe once again
that itll all change
he will take her far away from this place
someday she will have the dreams
but for now she slips the ring into her pocket
and gets back to work
someday
someday
Poemasabi Jun 2013
Now that you're done
you're not
not really
actually you've not even started

Oh sure
you're done with the free part of your schooling
and with childhood
but take it from me, you can make childhood a skill to build a career on
but life as a big person
and I don't mean fat
is just starting
like in the movie Silverado
when Scott Glenn opens the door to his shack on a mountain
and sees the world before him
except you don't have to have a gunfight to get out
like he did
but that was just a movie and we are talking about your life
still that is a favorite movie of mine
So yes
your life is just beginning
and as much as it will hurt me when you go away and live it
I knew this day would come
that you would go
that our lives would forever be different
and mostly separate
I'm taking for granted that you'll be home for Thanksgiving and Christmas
just stay in touch
throw in an awful joke about the civil war and giraffes once in awhile for good measure
and after the "that was an awful joke" comments have faded

think of me
and smile

Oh

and don't forget to call your mom once in awhile or I''l hear about it.
thinklef Jul 2013
IT HAS HAPPENED AGAIN,
Its alright they say,
Raise your head high and pray,
Nobody has time to play,
Its another day,
Everyone wanna be on the spotlight,
It has become more frightening,
Turn on the news at 5,
It's another fight,
Everyone is fighting for their right,
Just to see the light,
It's a gunfight,
All we see is candlelight,
Only few could see the night,
I remember back in the days ,
When we play in our place,
Sand on our face,
As we ran in the race.
But its too late,
The memories has faded,
All in the name of war,
We stare at the sunlight,
the world is changing each and every day,
The days are becoming dark,
the hearts turning black,
The minds are becoming wide,
the people are turning aggressive,
A beautiful world full of happiness & laughter,
Caught in between a raging war,
the innocent were murdered,
by men of war,
With solid guns,
Who spare no life in battlefield,
Spraying to destruction & death as if they weren't
meant to be,
I see humans, but no humanity."
Insane u were born,
Hypocrites you have become,
Hell you will abide,
If only u knew,
Life is not yours,
If only you understood,
War has options,
If only u could think,
Am only 18
Acting like a teen ,
trying to survive within time,
to live and fight another day!
I'm a graying aged gunfighter
Time to get out of the game
I can not see to shoot my gun
I can not see to aim

I used to be the best there was
The top of every list
Now I can't hit a **** barn door
I shot at one and missed

I could out draw anyone
Who faced me on the street
Now, I'm more than likely
To put a bullet 'tween my feet

I play a little poker now
Spend my days just passing time
I break even mostly
The way I play, well, that's a crime

No one round here knows me
They don't know about my past
To them I'm just a codger
I don't do one **** thing fast

I noticed things were changing
Ten years back I'd say
I had a gun fight in Dodge City
And it didn't go my way

I threw down with some punk kid
He was drunk and really ******
I got my gun stuck in my holster
He fell down, he shot, he missed

I walked to him now laying
In the street, out cold, not dead
I took his gun and holster
And then went home to bed

A gunfighter of substance
Would have killed me where I stood
Was I lucky he was drunk then?
Or was I losing it for good?

I packed my stuff up in the morning
I left the town later that night
The next fighter might be sober
And I'd not survive that fight

I took off for the desert
Made plans just where I would go
A state where I could hide out
Where my past, no one would know

On the way I stopped and practiced
Shot some cactus and some trees
I was shooting though at rabbits
I can't survive here eating these

One day, a rogue coyote
Came and took me by surprise
I shot a tree, it fell on him
I aimed between his eyes

The sooner I got settled
The safer I would feel
Too much longer in the desert
I'd end up some varmints tasty meal

I rode on in to where I am
I can't tell you just what town
I've got to keep it secret
Or I may just get shot down

I have a small room at the hotel
I play cards to pay the rent
I speak with a slightly muddled accent
I try to be a southern gent

I've been here now for near six months
The town is growing fast
So, my time here might be cut short
With the future, comes my past

For now I just play poker
An old gunfighter at heart
One day I know they'll find me
I'll go to boot hill in a cart

I'm an aged old gunfighter
There's not many still around
I'm hiding now from my last gunfight
That will put me six feet in the ground.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2023
Look once more,
look back and see the way, to now
from
when reason first was used
to master the frame
of mind, embodied, as mine,
informed with shapes of things solid,
shapes of things inside,
shapes of thing outside,
shapes of thoughts stacked in sequence,
after the hallelujah,
as per holy orders of worth appraisal,
services rendered,
magic performed,
life administered, for another week,
any body can handle one more week.
After the hallelujah.
learn that definition once, and you never
see sequential activity in ritual
as before,
magic effectuation, affection, as joy
one mindful, chewy, gustatory morsel,
of child-like faith, to be conserved.
Conservatively speaking,
Whig-wise, knowing one's prepositional relativity.
We labor, not in vain… to become worthy
to tread, with shoes, on streets of gold.
where milk needs no cow, and honey bees
never need be busy all day.

Riches and sweets, both
take more than either promise, aimed at
via entertain-mental mmm-usings tight
at tension, mind's time spaced taut
edge of me, edge of mine,
edge of ever aimed at
thus far… where we suffer this is so…
- measured timespace in mind agone…
Then we live through the last now, to die.

Becoming the author, fisher for being bubbles
afloat in ever after all.

At my funeral. To spare the hassle, imagine.

Friends and loved ones,
most are dead, or far away;

but we recall times, vague days
incidents for which we each hold bits,

instants, reality instantiated, pastense,

feel the kiss, feel the shame, the joy,
the hope, the loss, the win, the terror,
the truth of no perceptible way,

away from quit.
--------------

Infancy instants, perhaps, we guess,
we recall being babes, for briefest
recollections of perceptions kept, some how

to be reformed from shards of information
stored some where in an image of a moment

seen from the frame of a seer, not me, seeing
me, infant me, tossed and caught by a laughing
man in a sailor suit…

and, the oddity, of the singular infantile memory
stored some where for reconstruction, living
entertainment…

like unto Agricultural Entertainment, an art form
ancient as harvest festivals,

when locals picked the orchards, and our worlds
were edged in otherwise wild hedge rows,
where little creatures live at child level,
where words miss heard give stories twists,

too odd to be retold while holding any of the small
awe, aw, so sweet, too dear to let be meaningless,
but
as truth been told,
mean is bad in dogs and men, mean is bad in mankind,
mean is common,
mean is most common,
mean is measured, granted
mathematical reality, mind my means, you know
"intend, have in mind;"
Mental meaning application, folded man-kind wise…
Sometimes connected to root *men- (1)
"to think,"
which would make the ground sense of man
"one who has intelligence,"
but not all linguists accept this.
Liberman, for instance, writes,
"Most probably man 'human being' is a secularized divine name"
from Mannus [Tacitus, "Germania," chap. 2],
"believed to be the progenitor of the human race."

~~~~~~~~

Institutional minds, adapted from drama,
worn like Superman's or Bishop Sheen's cape.
Übermmench, **** sapien augmentacious,

**** habitus, us, as we think, we are.
We are no other way,
as a man thinketh truth, as a mind may think,
fine, so is he, in his own mind, right or not,
limited fineness, judged, discerned, quarkishly
ever finer, to this very point,
where mind being time being comes to mind,
in you.
We, momentarily, agree, aggressive face to face
point, fair call
at the inner edge of the inverse square
practical fractal constant…
gravest of issues, at thought
speed of intention to grasp. Percept perceive
link touch… flowing listing seeping soaring

bemused become
amused and entertained, feeding on ensamples,
as sorted characters,
defined societal aspirational imaginal
roles in reality aboard 1950's era Spaceship Earth.


Standing, unbowed, before kings,
bowing before mean men, thinking

all ya'll are said to be created, made
equal…
valued worthy
of opinion expressed as yours, as
wings put on wishes, shoes on prayers,
for warding reaching pulling pushers
-list as wind, in cognitive bias, right
lean as wild grasses launch new seed,
- double helix, twisting up
- from down,
feel massive missal push us on,
orbital, for a lifetime,
be maker of a being bubble
be a minding creating creation,

as weighed in balance, or mass, as gold
or wind in force testing wills for making

a way, where no way was.
Dead end. No way from now, but through.

Wind beneath my down swung pinions,
lifting my imaginal self over my useless

wait state, ever learning, never learning
the whole truth we are sworn to tell,
as soon as
we begin to see as others see, subject,
object
seer
seen seeing, saying

we may be minders of findings, guardians
set to watch,
set to see,
set to say look this way, these invisible limits

terminal connection looping past through
you
as my word choices,
pass the blood brain barrier and pierce
eternal you, in stasis.

- ---------------
- post radio war, not so long ago

"how ' we gonna keep 'em down
on the farm, after they've seen Pairee?"
- enter the era of the salesman
Total war, full power propagation of faith,
in practice, words are empty, meaning
is made- hate festered pride
of whiteness, same color as the rich, qualia
as equally mistaken in terms we call common,
****** speech of the non-reading classes,
stupid peasants, children of useless men.
Lower by far than, Biblical men
of the baser sort. Belial's
sons of total depravity,
two rungs lower than average
working classes, labor, any collared man willed
to pay sweat for bread and circuses.
And a dry, warm place to sleep.

Man, the reasoning creature, is what he eats.
Man does not live by bread alone.

Imagine grooming a gimp, from puberty.
Imagine Michael Jackson, "the kid is not my son!"

Look out, Howard Bloom. Duck.
Watch the boy do a thousand shoulder shrugs.
See the fantasizing worth of awe in focus, this
is us,
we paid to see the man perform, in a role made
from lies a child uses
to make just now,
reasonable, just
cause,

I can, I have power given me by Life, look,
who can imagine being the fan,
aw, man,
nobody longs to be
in the nosebleeds, being there
is not being you,
when all you can become has become true.
Just imagine,
fakes never make it.

And truly a big tragedy to be avoided, next.

We interview… the biggest nobody,
an entity insisting formless information imagines
bubbles of being limited
-- some strings of pearls rolled up

roll into little *****
of gnoshit pearls, treasure true, in essence
from dried gnosisnot. These we cast not to pigs.
To think a readers reasons
for writing, become one
of the rare breed born
to become readers
of one thousand books, once before you die.

------------------
If Warhol made action seem so mundane,
might I not make fun seem so slow a function
to make perfectly reasonable,
picking a fight with a lie,
because I can… being created equal to that task,
I can recognize lies I told,
I know where the handles are, I know what holds
the handle to the secret meaning of things,
can seem material, where free will
is culture locked as impossible.
Thingo no hypo.
Action movie, opening sequence,
as liturgical as any measured reassurance,
enter in, become the entertained,
we live in another realm, we only play at
while being entertained, we only watch roles

being presented for judgement,
test your will to link a mind projection,

from a former time shaped mind, aimed
at drawing an audience, a crowd,
all agreeing upfront to pay
for the mirror neuronic stims,
in a darkened room filled with fools such as I.

Who allows possible a gunfight with ***'s,
at goal-to-go range, taking five minutes,
and no named characters die,
all blood is non player blood,
only a child's mind never exposed, flash,
allows that to feel real, for five minutes,
into a nonreal mindtimespace
reality
of ever once,
and ever after, onces

such as once, seeing a gun in your face,
once hearing the bang, from a gun in your hand,
once
upon
recalling that was a movie, and I never killed a man,
but by osmosis, I imagine I can see
how hate
works the same as ******.
Relax.
Recall the unbelievableness.
--- so what are silent action movies feeding,
young Aldous Huxley, a bright well educated lad.
{We are all alphas}
-----------
"His uniqueness lay in his universalism.
He was able to take all knowledge for his province."
-------
Only a rich man's son may so say.
Even, as limiting to level, if such leveling
evens the odds, serves to increase resolve
to square the circle and fix pi to simple, once
and
for
all. As events in the heaven occur, fractally

added in fine ality… at you, dear reader, enlivening me.
Infinitely, relative to yesterday.

Of course, comic books count. As in the future,
classic video games shall seem poetic code.
I appreciate the reader's task more than the writer's. Writing is easy, reading what you write from the outside is the reader's task, unless it feels like a game.
Masedi Feb 2021
I was ecstatic, the thrill, the rush.
I felt like I'm going on an adventure with friend.
Before getting in we had had our amours on and, we never used our guns.
Slowly, I started forgeting that we're at war with one another.  
I told him all my  weakspots and he told me his.
Letting him know where to shoot if he wanted me injured or dead
Sluggishly I  removed my amour and let my gun go(I trusted my friend).
He encouraged me to do so but he never took off his.  
I removed the amour forgetting it's there to protect me.
Forgetting that I was still at war .
Once it came off it could never go back on .
My opponent realized that this would be the perfect time for him to do an experiment.
He shot  me where I told him it would hurt me the most.
I felt the bullet go straight from my back and it pierced through my heart before leaving my torso.
I bled on him.
And he helped me nurse the wound.
Soon I healed and  I forget about the pain.
But.
Everytime I'd forget, I'd feel another bullet. Entering and exiting my body the same way it did the first time.
This went on and on again.
He hurt me over and over again .
I grew tired and weary of the pain.
Finally, I admitted defeat and left the battle grounds.
Now I look at my heart I can only see my scars from The "friendly" gunfight.
Jordan Frances Jan 2014
I hear your name
Whispered in shrieks
Written in blood
Spelled out in snakes.

If I step in gum,
See a child cry,
Hear a man berate his wife
For his own personal pleasure
If I see a gunfight,
Wake up coldly sweating and unaware
Hear a siren
Smoke a laced cigarette that makes me sick
Take a rusty nail through my shoe
No, make that ten rusty nails.

These are the little things that remind me each day
Of the merry memory of you.
Em Glass May 2014
The first time you flew
you told the birds how unfair
it is that the air is so much
thinner up here,
that below they have to breathe
the crushing weight of the
stratosphere
just because they’re accustomed
to it, and your gasping
for breath doesn’t make
any noise yet
every day you choose life,

man and wife
man and wife


placed in a gunfight with a pocket knife
and a guidebook of expectation.
You don’t remember filling out an
application for this life, for
now-flightless wings and for being
their daughter,

I will love you
come hell or high water


and the first time you flew
you heard birds laugh at you
and the air was so thin
you fell right through,
and the silence so thick
you landed hard,
lungs aching,
but you were never afraid of the dark,

in the high water
watch out for sharks


because you aren’t one for stark
contrasts and it’s nice to feel
like nothing at all,
keep falling.

The first time you didn’t
write a poem you drank tea
out of a paper cup, no mug
in the sink, no need for anyone
to look up when she came home.
The first time you used the key
in your new house’s door
it fit so perfectly that you didn’t feel
at home anymore,
and the first time you were afraid of the dark
you weren’t,
because it can’t get you
if it can’t see you’ve left any mark.

The first time you didn’t
write a poem the *** boiled
even though you watched,
and you drank tea out of a paper cup
and no one looked up, it was
biodegradable and then it was
gone.

The first time you flew.
The first time you really saw you.
The first time you heard that
song called poison oak,
the first time you said what you
meant to say,
the last time you spoke.
a third draft
Terry Collett May 2015
We sat on the grass in front of Banks House near the bomb shelters now unused but still there like monuments of a tragic past and the coal wharf across the way where coal lorries and horse drawn wagons waited to be loaded with coal and coke and the railway bridge over Rockingham Street where steam trains passed over noisily and behind us the windows of the flats of Banks House where nosey neighbours spied on the passing world and Fay said her father and mother had rowed that morning rowed loud enough to have the woman below in the flats to knock on her ceiling as if to say they were making too much noise with their voices and her father had stamped down on the floor as if to say mind your business and I asked her what they were arguing about and she said it was about her mothers attitude about church going and her faith being not what it was and her father had said she would end up in Hell and was it fair on her daughter to have a mother who was destined for such a place and I said it was her mothers choice about her faith if she had one still or even if she didnt any more Fay wasnt sure about it after all she said faith was a gift from God and a gift that needed nurturing and looking after not to be neglected or lost or so her father had said and even the nuns at school had said similar things at R.E. a week or so before and I said if faith was a gift from God how comes that some people never seem to have got it never got the gift of faith at all or if they had got the gift it had slipped through their fingers? she wasnt sure I could see it in her eyes and I knew she had a real fear of her father of his violence and his strictness regarding her faith and her knowledge of her faith and he didnt like her going out with me because he said I wasnt Catholic and had a lack of attitude towards faith of any kind and he-her father- didnt like me and had warned her not to go out with me and said dont you go out with that Benedict boy but she had secretly and stood the chance of punishment if she was found out being out with me and  she said she was between two people she loved her mother and her father and hoped to God they would not split up as her mother said at times when they rowed that she would and take me with her if she left that serious? I said and she said it seemed like it to her and after rows like the one today it seemed more likely than before and she said her father said that she could not leave him as they were married in the eyes of God and to leave would be to break her vows before God and be in a state of sin and a sin that could mean she was destined to go to Hell I opened the Tizer bottle I had brought with me from the off license and offered her a swig and she took the bottle in her hand and took a short swig and offered it back to me and I wiped the bottle top with my hand and took a big swig and it made my eyes water as the bubbles exploded up my nose I didnt like the thought of Fay being taken off by her mother and that I might not see her any more I couldnt bear to think of you not being around here any more I said she eyed the windows of the flats behind us  and leaned close to me and kissed my cheek I hope I don't leave here she said my friends are here and my dad and you especially she said I studied her blonde hair the smooth hair brought into a ponytail and the yellow dress she wore and white socks and the black shoes- slightly scuffed- maybe we should run away she said just us but she had said it in a romantic kind of way of thinking us being just twelve years old but it seemed quite fun in a romantic kind of way and I said sure where will we go? France she said Id like to go there and see men in berets and hear that French music and drink coffee at table on streets corners I smiled sounds good I said I offered her the Tizer bottle again and she wiped the top of the bottle with her palm and drank a big mouthful then gave it back to me where would you like to go? she asked me I said America to see Dodge City and see  where cowboys used to gunfight and maybe we could live in a log cabin and have a dog and keep cattle  and she smiled and kissed me and said you and your cowboys and such I drank from the Tizer bottle and put it on the grass beside me what about Rome? she said and see the Pope and the Vatican and the paintings and see other nuns and priests I saw her look at me and I smiled and said we could go to the seaside near by and go bathing and sit on the beach and have drink and sandwiches and just lie on the sand and look up at the sun and relax thatd be good she said looking at me but of course we will have to wait until we are older she said otherwise Daddy will come looking for us and then Id really be for it once he found us I sat looking at her trying to take in what I could of her in case her mother took her away from here and me and left a big hole in my twelve year old life and maybe I thought if we wait long enough we could marry and she could be my blonde haired blue eyed wife.
A BOY AND GIRL IN LONDON IN 1960.
Em Glass Apr 2015
The first time you flew you told the birds how unfair
it is that the air is so much thinner up here, that below
they have to breathe the crushing weight of the stratosphere
just because they’re accustomed to it, and your gasping
for breath doesn’t make any sound yet every day
you choose life,

man and wife
man and wife


placed in a gunfight with a pocket knife and a guidebook
of expectations. You don’t remember filling an application
for this, for now-flightless wings or for being this daughter

I will love you
come hell or high water


but the first time you landed you didn’t write a thing,
you just drank tea out of a paper cup, no mug in the sink,
no need for anyone to look up when she came home.  
The first time you used the key in this new house’s door
it fit so perfectly that you didn’t feel at home anymore.
The *** boiled even though you watched, and you drank
out of a paper cup and no one looked up, it was
biodegradable and then it was
gone.

The first time you flew.
The first time you really saw you.
The first time you heard that song called poison oak,
the first time you said what you meant to say,
the last time you spoke.
a space-time continuum
Big Virge Jun 2015
These days it seems ... ?
weapons are ... seen ...
NOT JUST ... on screens ...
but now ... in streets ...
  
Murders Here ... !!!
Murders There ... !!!
  
These days it's ... CLEAR ...
They ... "FILL" ... Nightmares ... !!!!!
  
" Nightmarish " ... dreams ...
for those ... " Now Left " ...
with ... memories ...
of friends ... Now Dead ... !!!
  
or ... A Relative ...
for which ...  
There's ... NO FIX ...  
  
while the media sings ...
the ... " Same ol' thing " ...
  
"We need more police
with weaponry,
to stem the tide
of violent crime !"
  
while ...
  
Governments ... " Feed " ...
DIFFERENT ... stories ... !!!!!
  
"Violent crime is down,
across our towns !"
  
Maybe where they are !!?!!
  
with their .....  
" Six Car Garage "
and ... " Entourage " ...
of ... Security Guards ... !!!!!
  
No ...  
" Hoodies " ... round them ...
or .... " Terrorist Threats " ....
  
Yet our youth are ... " Investing " ...
in ... " Possessing " ... more weapons ... !?!
  
A ... " New Age Trend " ...
that ... NEEDS TO ... " Lessen " ... !!!!!
  
as time ..... transcends ..........
there are many who ... " Threaten " ... !!!!!!
to .... Use A Weapon ....
  
from ... Violent Youth ...
to these ... Terrorist Crews ...
  
but ......  
Is that true ... !?!
Who's Foolin' ... Who ... ???
  
The U.S's ... " New Weapon " ...
ISN'T .... seen as a threat .... ???
  
Well ...  
Not just ... " Yet " ...............................
  
Could it be that ... Obama ... ???
is worse than ... " Osama " ... ?!?
  
Questions like ... THAT ...
may get me ... attacked ...
  
By BOTH .... white and black ...
but ... THINK ... before you ... FIRE ... !!!
  
A president is ... " Hired " ...
and RARELY ... ever ... " Fired " ...  
and .... most of them ....
are just ... " Figureheads " ...
who tend to be ... " BIG LIARS " ... !!!
  
"But Barack's Black !"
  
is what's being ... said ...
by his ... " Supporters " ... YES ... !!!
  
BOTH ... White and Black ...
  
But .....
Which way will they sway ... ?
if things ... Don't Change ... ?
  
I bet blacks starts saying ...
  
"Well he is mixed race..."
  
while the ... " Liberal Whites " ...
will probably be playing ...
the ... CLASSIC ... old lines ...
  
"He's messed things up !
He ain't one of us !"
  
Of course ...  
Blacks will cuss ... !!!
and ... " Run Their Gums " ... !!!!!
  
"Why you saying this stuff ?!?"
  
because ....
In .... " My View " .... !!!
it's the ... ******* Truth ... !!!!
  
because .....
this brother's got colour ....
that makes him ... " Cool " ... ?!?
  
That's a weapon they've ... " Used " ...
to keep you ... FOOLED ... !!! ...
  
So Don't ... get it confused ... !!!
  
Don't it seem a bit strange ... ?
that after .... " Uncle George " ....
Who ... CLEARLY ...  Waged War ...
on ... " immigrant Hoards " ...
  
that a man called ... " Osama " ... !!!!!!
  
"Excuse me .... OBAMA's .... !!!"
  
Gonna .... " SAVE THE DAY !!! "  
  
Clearly NOT ... !!!
  
for the folks down with ........ B.O. ........... !?!?!
  
Wait a minute man ... Whoaaaaaaa ... !!!!!!!!
  
I can smell something ... " Funny " ...
and I know it ain't me ....... !!!!!!! .......
  
  
B.O. .... SHOULDN'T BE ....
in the ... " White House Seat " ... !!!!!
  
but I guess that was left ...
by good ol' ... Georgie B' ... !!!!!
who's been in the news ...
for avoiding ... " SHOES " ... ?!?
  
Now .....
What kind of ... " Weapon " ...  
are they to ... " use " ... ?!?!?
  
I know ... Iraqi Dudes ...
gotta have ... More Venom ... !!!
  
It's ... Always the way ...
  
How you bringing a knife ... ?
to a F'ing ... " GUNFIGHT " ... !?!
  
"Son, you shouldn't play games
when it comes to your life !"
  
That's why ... " My Weapon " ...
is used to ... " STRENGTHEN " ...
  
NOT ...  
Leave me ... "weak" ... !!!
like those who ... " Bleed " ...  
  
My Weapon's ... MY MIND ... !!!
and ... well though out rhymes ...
that require ... NO SWORDS ...
or .... " Physical Wars " .... !!!!!!!!!
  
Of course I recognise ....
that words .... Can''t Stop ....
Weaponry that's ... STRONG ... !!!!!
  
But i'd rather die .... !!!
than start ... taking lives ...
because I ... " Couldn't 'Find " ...
A ... " Better Way " ... to end ...
..... Petty ..... arguments .....
than ... using a weapon ...
to prove ... my strength ...
  
when ... all it's gonna do ...
is lead to .... " Death " ....  
  
So .....
Do the government lie ... ???
about ... Gun and Knife crime ... ???
  
I'll let you ... decide ...
but remember ... These Lines ... !!!
  
Things on ... " Prime Time " ...
are what .... " THEY CHOOSE " ....
  
and Aren't ... always true ... !!!!!
  
Think about your life ...
and where you reside ...
  
Does your neighbourhood ... ?
get the coverage it should ... ?
  
Does the news ... " Neglect " ... ?  
the things you wanna see ...
on .................Your T.V. ....... ???
  
You see .....
  
My Weapons are ... WORDS ... !!!
and .... poetic verse ....
  
Now I ... RARELY Curse ... !!!
but agree with ... Em' ....
  
When you face problems ...
Sometimes ... You ... NEED TO ... !!!!!
  
I'd prefer that move ...
than a move to ... " SHOOT " ... !!!!!!
  
I can't end this piece ...
without ... One More Theme ...  
  
The biggest weapon in use ...
is ... CLEARLY ... " YOU " ... !!!!!
  
The things ... " You Choose " ...
and things .... " You Do " ....
and things you ... FEAR ...
  
This move is ... CLEAR ... !!!
  
The media ... FUELS ...
A ... "Limited View" ...
  
OPEN ... Your Mind ... !!!
and .... RECOGNISE ....  
that what you're fed ....
is .... " Agenda " .... led ....
  
You really can't believe ....
everything that you read
or the things that you see
on your ... TV Screens ... !!!!!
  
There are ... Many Fallacies ...
and .... False Prophecies ....
  
aimed towards ... " Your Ears " ...
to ... " Fuel Your Fears " ... !!!!! ...
  
My Weapon ... Fa' Sure ...
" Supports " ... This Cause ...
  
Conscious Thoughts ... !!!
before acts of war ...
  
That Make ... Blood Pour ... !!!
  
So ...
My question for you all .....
  
............ is ...........
  
" What Is Yours ? "
thinklef Jul 2013
IT HAS HAPPENED AGAIN,
Its alright they say,
Raise your head high and pray,
Nobody has time to play,
Its another day,
Everyone wanna be on the spotlight,
It has become more frightening,
Turn on the news at 5,
It's another fight,
Everyone is fighting for their right,
Just to see the light,
It's a gunfight,
All we see is candlelight,
Only few could see the night,
I remember back in the days ,
When we play in our place,
Sand on our face,
As we ran in the race.
But its too late,
The memories has faded,
All in the name of war,
We stare at the sunlight,
the world is changing each and every day,
The days are becoming dark,
the hearts turning black,
The minds are becoming wide,
the people are turning aggressive,
A beautiful world full of happiness & laughter,
Caught in between a raging war,
the innocent were murdered,
by men of war,
With solid guns,
Who spare no life in battlefield,
Spraying to destruction & death as if they
weren't meant to be,
I see humans, but no humanity."
Insane u were born,
Hypocrites you have become,
Hell you will abide,
If only u knew,
Life is not yours,
If only you understood,
War has options,
If only u could think,
Am only 18
Acting like a teen ,
trying to survive within time,
to live and fight another day!
aise Aug 2019
tell me, in a gunfight, what is the probability of two bullets being fired at once? (2/6, i know, i calculated)

because i still capitalize the g in God, and i still pray every night for...

the chance that i'll stop loving you (the chance that one day you'll turn around and see me there, waiting for you)

and, in a gunfight, what is the probability of two bullets colliding (i already know- i just wanted to hear your voice)

my knees are sore, and this carpet is itchy but i still have 6 Hail Marys left and i still miss you more than anything

275,000,000- that's how many stars die in a day / that's also how many stars are born in a day isn't that cool? i looked it up just for you

i'm finished all my prayers, my knees are still sore, i climb into bed, my heart still aches, i turn off the lights.

n.o
this is for leo, my shining star
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
In "The Shootist", J.B. Books is not feeling up to *****.
He has cancer. What are the concerns
of a man dying.

To die
commensurate with the way he lived his life.
Books dies in a gunfight.
McIntosh dies in the desert, under a broken wagon,
fighting Indians.
Norman Thayer will die of heart failure
by the side of his wife, Ethel.

Two police officers
die investigating a stolen moped at a gas station
in the Bronx.
One buys it between the eyes, the other in the back.
The killer out on early parole
from a manslaughter rap.
The DA blames the judge, the judge blames the parole board,
and the board says the jails are overcrowded.

What should I be doing, old turtle.
Devote myself to re-order the world
or crawl off to a lonely spot and preserve myself.
We are trying
to educate everyone to their individual capacities
and see that all are fed, clothed and sheltered adequately.
Because the suffering of one citizen makes suffering
for another, the slow death of one sometimes makes
the sudden ****** of another.

There is this
black rock we live on and its lovely mantle of green.
It is all that is perfect. And everything of it is
perfect that respects its integrity. On the subway
I was amused to find, hidden in the confused
mass of anonymous, bleak graffiti, unseen
by the studied, expressionless passengers,
in pink, delicate script, vertically written,
the word *****.

People are the element I live in.
The world is pushy, we are bone,
the numbers of us overwhelm.
It is going to be hot again soon
and the Bronx will actively resent it.

Books dies in Carson City,
only two or three people will miss him at all.
He died alone as he lived,
with his enemies.
www.ronnowpoetry.com
I can hear them
Voices being raised
As each shell detonates
And I know I'll be
Walking in a field of landmines
For the next few days
As is always the case
Since I was eight
Each time my earplugs I grab
Drowning the sounds of the blasts
Shielding my memory form its shards
But only a while this could last
For a knife I brought to a gunfight
I was dragged
And the blasts over and over
Explode in my head
As my mind a war zone it became.

©Belema .S. Ekine
being doing a lot of wordchallenges lately. this poem is a 3 in 1 piece.
1 poem 3prompts- 1. shell 2. grenade 3. earplugs
Anil Bingöl Oct 2016
Us
In this world, we write our histories
with the blood of our enemies.
Too many mysteries
Too many identities.
We wage war against our own kind.
But what for?
We are blind
when fighting in war.

Behind every gunsight
is a human being.
In every gunfight
we are loosing
despite the nation winning.
Soldiers don't know each other
but lie in the dirt, bleeding
to death together.

They all have one thing in common.
They died believing what they did was right.
But their stories will be forgotten.
Their heroism will be forgotten in the fight.
"In war, there is no good or bad side. The soldiers in the trenches shooting at you, are just like you. Soldiers following orders."
Em Glass Nov 2014
The first time you flew
you told the birds how unfair
it is that the air is so much
thinner up here,
that below they have to breathe
the crushing weight of the
stratosphere
just because they’re accustomed
to it, and your gasping
for breath doesn’t make
any noise yet
every day you choose life,

man and wife
man and wife


placed in a gunfight with a pocket knife
and a guidebook of expectation.
You don’t remember filling out an
application for this life, for
now-flightless wings and for being
their daughter,

I will love you
come hell or high water


and the first time you flew
you heard birds laugh at you
and the air was so thin
you fell right through,
and the silence so thick
you landed hard,
lungs aching,
but you were never afraid of the dark,

in the high water
watch out for sharks


because you aren’t one for stark
contrasts and it’s nice to feel
like nothing at all,
keep falling.

The first time you didn’t
write a poem you drank tea
out of a paper cup, no mug
in the sink, no need for anyone
to look up when she came home.
The first time you used the key
in your new house’s door
it fit so perfectly that you didn’t feel
at home anymore,
and the first time you were afraid of the dark
you weren’t,
because it can’t get you
if it can’t see you’ve left any mark.

The first time you didn’t
write a poem the *** boiled
even though you watched,
and you drank tea out of a paper cup
and no one looked up, it was
biodegradable and then it was
gone.

The first time you flew.
The first time you really saw you.
The first time you heard that
song called poison oak,
the first time you said what you
meant to say,
the last time you spoke.

— The End —