"handguns" poems
Liquid Impulses seep through my bones
and become an unavoidable poison
with the power to shatter my glass organs right through my bleeding skin
I am getting you ***** but you handle secrets well
anything to make you feel more special than standing at the airport making small talk with every pair of lungs so it doesn't look like you're facing all this mass alone
I asked you politely to stop forcing continents and veiny constellations on me
but nightly pleasure is your forte
and I'm not going to pretend I want you to stay
you have handguns that you pray you'll never use, during your long visits to ceremony
you call yourself lonely, but can barley say it because like always you're loosing your voice
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 1:09 PM UTC
there is some kindness in the way
the earth is suspended on gravity's back.
how it
rotates on it's axis,
bound by the sacred trust
that space won't bottom out &
shake us all from the earth
like crumbs in the bed.
there is little kindness in the way
the earth is suspended
in war, in turmoil;
with handguns & machine guns
& bombs strapped to civilians-
tied to the greater majority
with the intentions of a few.
there is little kindness
in fighting fire with fire-
when our own backyards are burning
&
our neighbors are to blame.
there is little kindness in the fear
of what lies beneath a burka,
a niqab,
a turban-
a police uniform,
a trench coat
or a white robe
&
a
pointed
white
hood.
there is little kindness in the terror
that sleeps in the backs of our minds
and sets up shop in our beds
& lays low
while we condemn the third world,
the local news just confirms
and confirms
and confirms-
we were killing each other first.
there is little kindness in seeing humanity
as this side of the border
or that.
the world is more of a revolving door
that spins you dizzily
& spits you back out.
there is some kindness in the way
gravity still holds the earth
like some sick, sad science fair project;
like some ****** consolation prize.
humanity is
a bed of crumbs
clinging
thanklessly
to
sheets.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 4:48 AM UTC
I knew him because he was there...sometimes
in the morning drinking one of his sixteen cups
of coffee before I would go to school.
I knew him cause we would go camping sometimes
and the four of us and our dog would be in the station
wagon towing a tent trailer, to be set up and taken down.
I knew he was there sometimes when I joined cadets and
then the militia and...sometimes after I joined the CAF,
and less when I began to have a family.
I knew where he was when we were home... sometimes,
as he was cleaning his rifles or handguns, making beer
in the wine room, carving or tinkering with something.
I knew he was there...sometimes he and mom would
argue and their voices would be raised and we could
hear them through the floor, as they struggled with
reason.
I knew he was there...sometimes he would smoke
when he drank more than he should so I would
drive us home with my new licence, before that
he would do the driving.
I knew he was there in the hospital...sometimes he
would have seizures then the aneurysm that did not
take him but made him less able to be a father
and grandfather to our children.
I knew he was no longer there over twenty years
of a slow spiral down, to where the cold, cold
lay waiting...sometimes sooner for some and
later for others.
As he lay on the bed in the care home he was
no longer there, cold to the touch, heart stopped
struggle quit,... sometimes I miss him, sometimes
I am not missing him, he was not the kindest,
and I made him my only dad... sometimes I
wonder if that was, my mistake.
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 1:34 AM UTC
Pistols
I own seven hundred diff’rent types of lovely handguns
And twenty seven thousand more bullets
I like hunting deer, I like hunting unicorns
I like shooting guys with bad mullets
This pistol is loaded
Its under my pillow
And ill blow you to bits
If you sneak in my window.
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 12:23 PM UTC
The world is full of good ideas
And rules we really need.
Signs ensure that drivers won’t
Exceed the posted speed.
Plus we have laws restricting drugs-
So nobody smokes ****
Chicago’s ban on handguns
Has produced a bumper crop-
Of people full of bullet holes
Legislation failed to stop.
It’s clear to me obesity
kills more than bullets do.
Look at your friends and neighbors
And you’ll realize this is true.
Its burdensome to carry them
To their final resting place
Once they’ve spend several decades
stuffing Stuffing in their face.
It’s past time we got serious
It’s time to walk the walk.
I’m introducing legislation
That aims to ban the fork.
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 8:26 AM UTC
All it took was for Ahmed
who had been sleeping in his hut
(built at least twenty meters away from the rest of the village),
to stop snoring
to realize that something was out of the ordinary.
Silence crawled over the land,
bringing with it the sensation
of a severed hand in desperate need to attach itself
(any arm would do),
scraping over the sand, against the walls of mud dwellings.
Fadwa touched her wrist, looked up
through a hole in the roof covering;
synthetic satellite blinks took over a clear pre-dawn sky—
the stars cowered,
some even fell away at the sight of their man-made twitters.
Tweets and twitters in the sky
“… news had said they’d blocked the Net,
that a kind-hearted group in the Netherlands had opened their servers
for those folk
either in need to contact loved ones or to tell the ****** truth that stains this sand.”
Or something like that; Fadwa yawned—
she wasn’t sure what the Net was
but it sounded like “serious business”— that’s what he had said,
Uncle Mohammed,
who came for dinner the night before; there’d been terror in his voice.
A stifled yelp broke the stillness.
Within seconds the dunes were lit,
strewn with military-style boots, the rubber soles of which reeked
of corruption
carried in from army bases located not far from where the city ***** souls.
Ahmed was on his hands and knees
Fadwa was peeking through the key hole,
or what was left of the door; Billy the Kid, Fadwa’s goat
had been at it.
Two troops held handguns to his head but Ahmed had already departed.
Mar 6, 2011
Mar 6, 2011 at 2:44 AM UTC
We fight wars then write novels
and make movies about them.
Mentally ill people **** 19 children
with their military-grade AR-15s
then show horrendous videos on
the evening TV news. Murders,
rapes, tortures, and other atrocities
are reported on, and the corporations
that own them profit grossly from
the aforementioned grotesque.
I have better ideas. Let's stop war-
ring and start loving all others.
Let us rid ourselves of all weapons
from handguns to hydrogen bombs.
Stop profiteering from poisoning our
only home, Earth. Let us follow
true leaders rather than corrupt
politicians. Let us go to our hearts
that tells us what are the right
decisions to make, the right things
to do.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Mar 20, 2023
Mar 20, 2023 at 2:49 PM UTC
All 8,100,000,000 Citizens of Earth will govern Earth, not 200 politicians and dictators. There will no longer be nations with artificial borders, only Earth. There will be no more wars. There will no longer be any weapons of any kind from handguns to hydrogen bombs. There will be no money. All Citizens of Earth will equally share the resources of Earth. Aggrandizement will be supplanted by love. All needs of every human being will be met equally. Air and water will be cleansed. No longer will any Citizen of Earth become a source of profit, as there will no longer be profiteering. No longer will there be discriminations of any kind. There will no longer be jails and prisons, only Love Centers where those hurting from lack of love will be loved until unconscious hate will be transformed into love of self, then love of all. And Earth, now on the precipice of self-destruction, will flower into Planet Peace.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jul 3, 2025
Jul 3, 2025 at 12:54 AM UTC
War is a crime.
Use only devices that temporarily incapacitate, but never
permanently harm.
All weapons from handguns to hydrogen bombs will be destroyed.
No political borders.
Celebrate diversity.
Share all.
Each Citizen of Earth has the responsibility to treat all well.
Each Citizen of Earth has the right to be treated well by all.
Citizens of Earth will govern Earth.
There will be no president of Earth.
No substance that poisons Earth will be allowed.
Peace on Earth forever.
No laws, only Love.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Mar 17, 2023
Mar 17, 2023 at 10:16 PM UTC
Your hand slipped away from mine
So, so cold as autumn leaves
And that cold, cold morning wine
And the handguns of thieves.
Reaching out I saw you go
So, so still as naked trees
And that same old morning glow
And the nests that hold the bees.
Nov 10, 2024
Nov 10, 2024 at 6:32 PM UTC
Oppressive winds carried among the nightfall sky
aloneness dried the atmosphere
infection slips in windows
romantic thinking numbers sleep time
Henry vanished before military return
his satchel keeping love letters
photographs that presented wounds
but his march was a necessity
Power from simple handguns land on mission's soil
tunnels presented dead grunts from the high rising fire
a week after his love brought her life
Children often remember Kelley
killing stress with magazines, empty men and brandy shots
her ******* pounded for days
but her heart was fatigue
that cross patted her neck which carried black mysteries
lips that presented silence
a beloved brown made up new most days
Guys often kissed her squeezing out security
dangerous men fancied her
some laughed like they understood
said they would fill their hats of other "working" women making new found glory through washed up love
She said my handgun holds power presented at my feet:
one shot to feel the dead
that shot remembered every night before bed
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 12:04 AM UTC
Listen up all you girls and boys
Oh and men with gloves and handguns as their toys
You better run for the hills before the night falls, it will burn you
And as the sun rise peeks above the shore you will hear me
Echoing the words that I said as my soul left it's body
"Times will turn
From how they
And we will learn
To be anything but par"
"But if you don't try
And I you don't see
It will be a goodbye
Just the same as me"
Sooo
Listen up all you girls and boys
Oh and men with gloves and handguns as their toys
You better run for the hills before the night falls ,cause it will burn you
And as the sunrise peeks above the shore You will hear me
Echoing
And repeating
Or at least I hope you will
Or at least I hope you will
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
Man
Started as a baby who watched killing on TV.
Whose childhood was Uncle Sam and the ROTC.
Took turns being cowboy and Indian, finger guns
Hunting with dad, rifles and handguns
But nothing could prepare him for the way that blood runs
From the lips of a friend
He left at 18
Couldn’t seem to grow a beard.
Didn’t matter when he was covered in jungle mud from ear to ear.
Kool Aid and biscuits
It sounded like a dream
Living indoors.
Working on machines.
But what the cargo brought back
Demanded to be seen
Bags upon bags hoisted on backs
Swung around like jump ropes
Among the soldier’s jumping jacks
Every beating moment a guilt-filled flashback
The blood from the lips of an enemy or friend
Reddening the mud, trickled to no end
A gun on his side
Who was fighting who?
The roles were unclear
Muddied and hazy, orange and dark blue
No need for TV. The war’s in his mind.
Engraved in his eyelids.
Pace, panic, grind
Is he a man? Can he ever grow old?
If his life is just one story that keeps getting told
Child.
Man.
Nam.
- Vietnam
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 5:55 PM UTC
What level of warrior
do you claim to be
when you maim the weak
and wreak havoc when you speak
of sick sentiments?
You build your armaments
stockpile rifles, semi-automatics,
and handguns
shoot animals for fun.
I do not begrudge that.
I merely judge the fact
that you lack any tact
as you cry out the government
is coming to take them back.
You were afraid of the democrat,
the one you despised because he was black
perhaps you felt that he would
pay us all back for the two hundred
and forty plus years of
treating brown people like trash.
However, despite your rants
despite the Sandy Hook massacre,
the nightclub, the church
Columbine, and all other hurt
in the multitudinous mass shootings
I have not seen any government scheme
to take your guns or gun rights away.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 11:27 AM UTC
You ran marathons across the yellow tapes,
just to break into an already broken space,
you prey on with your own cherished hate,
while you remain snugged in front of a screen,
uploading scene after scene of horrific child abuse.
You laugh with tormenting captions that proves
you are an addition to the abuse on innocent lives;
running taunting lines that read *the black eyes
make her blue eyes look even more cute*,
as a collective you cheered on abuse in all kinds
and with like minds you cheered on crime:
from **** to abuse, from violence to hatred-
so that the safest place would only exist
with the absence of you and your kind.
I was eighteen, I watched my friend break into tears;
says her worst fears are those among her own peers,
says her worst fears are those demonic digital fiends
that seems to only want to drag her underground
till her cries barely made a sound she says it's hard,
I'm alive but god do I wish I wasn't, I wish I wasn't,
and the rotten stench of online monsters stained her soul.
I was eighteen when I watched my friend lowered into a hole,
a hole that was the perfect symbolism of her dreams and hopes.
You and your kind are the demonic figure reflected in a mirror
of a person suffering from eating disorders. The distorted view
is just your after image projected onto a live being's mirror,
you place handguns into adults and teens who suffer
from suicidal thoughts because a buffer of your hateful words
seems to hurt the most, you are the ammunition
that screams to loud for anyone to hear or to listen,
you are the chair that encourages every hurting mind
to climb up and take a swing off a rope,
you are the evil that sees people jumping from buildings,
screaming that children aren't worth living in this world
so you direct them to hurl themselves off a broken cliff,
you are the hateful comments on a family breaking apart,
you are the scars on a burn victim that remains noticeable,
you
you are every broken tooth and nail in a world that is decaying;
and if we're all so broken then the token for breaking us goes to you.
Will we ever learn to shut you out,
before a home turns to a house.
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 7:11 AM UTC
if i lost you
i would hurt myself
and that's not just words coming out of my mouth
it's a fact
it's the truth
because there is no me without you
you without me
we are inseparable
soulmates
we are meant to be
and i know you'll never leave
and i'm content knowing that
but there's a lot of people who would try to separate us
and that's what i'm afraid of
of losing you because of them
because no one here wants to see me happy
their only intent is hurting me
no one cares about me here
that's a fact
it's the truth
if they did, why would they leave me so blue?
if they just _knew_ how i felt about you
then maybe they would understand
but no one here wants to listen to my words
they just hear what they need to say instead
i would hurt myself
it's true
because i couldn't survive without you
i don't want to
i would try jumping off buildings
reminding myself of the feeling of falling
i would try splitting open my veins
to try to see that my blood's still running
circulating for you
i would try swallowing pills
to fill the hole inside me
to try to feel something else
than the agonizing pain of being without you
i would try holding handguns to my heart
wondering if i have that courage to keep waiting
wondering if i have the courage not to do something stupid
i would try drowning in water
to remind myself of the way my chest burst with love
i would try tying ropes around my neck
to remind myself of the way that we are tied together
i would hurt myself to remind me of you
i cannot survive without you
and we all know it's a well-known fact
that i destroy myself when i'm hurt
i don't eat
i don't sleep
i don't do anything that's good for me
because what's the point if i already can't breathe?
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 3:33 PM UTC
There is nothing new under this sun.
Nothing but cracks in the sidewalk's bend.
No kind, uplifting words from a close friend
that can stop life's promised bitter end.
There's an impassable gap in
your stairway to heaven's gates
you designed yourself,
so the buck stops in your own hands.
Shiny happy people holding chainsaws, handguns,
and sticks on fire.
All the better to flame up your funeral pyre.
All the jeers
mixed with all of the blood
and sweat
and tears
placed perfectly silent into your coffin and covered with dirt.
Yet one question never mattered in the end did it?
Who's the ******* president now?
Who cares?
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 4:34 AM UTC
encompassed, encased
in handguns,
harsh ropes.
the silence, the peace of mind they've longed for.
the absolute devastation, desolation,
i never wanted to face.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 10:54 PM UTC