"headshot" poems
So, dope young fellow
With your pretty boy swag.
With your SnapBack on.
Pants so **** low.
Every girl just waiting in line just to give you a blow.
You're royalty around here, but this is still high school.
Taking every girls cherries and jewels.
You think that you're raising the bar but I've seen this before:
Call it VCR.
And then there's me:
Who don't get no ladies.
Because I'm the type of person who actually treats females as actually human beings.
Not toys.
I'll put them before myself.
I care about their joy.
You know what's dead: chivalry.
And it can never be reborn.
Not like Call of Duty: zombies.
Boom, headshot.
But there's another ten coming your way.
Then it gets to the point when you're just blown away.
But I'll be your player 2.
Girl, I'd give up all my perks just for you.
So you guys out there with the pretty boy swag.
Who just zip it all up cuz they think they got it in the bag.
I'm going to fight.
I'm going to step up for the voices not heard.
Cuz you've drowned them in depression, you've choke them with cruelty, and you've slapped them with sadness.
Unable to act.
Like a flightless bird.
I'll let them out of their cages so they can fly once again.
So you can't weight them down:
Call you Anchormen. Ooo, **** em'
So, pretty boy, nothing close to fantastic.
I just wanna say:
That I know I'm swagtastic.
S- saving
W- women
A- against
G- guys
T- that
A- abuse
S- sensitive
T- tender
I- innocent
C- companions.
Shorten that: swag.
S- she
W- wants
A- a
G- gentlemen.
So now boy,
Lets just see which one of us got that "Pretty Boy Swag"
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 7:41 PM UTC
Motel moons, left of face
In room 12, a thing named Grace
She's missing ***** & he's missing eggs-
Band-Aids on the neck
Royal Hawaiian
Big Ad's A-Flyin' (Bye!)
Cowboys in black dusters
And aliens in track suits
Drinking coffee with the common man
Blue-hooded and faceless, walks by again
Third-reel-real headshot,
Kept as a souvenir by an FBI actor
A man can do a lot with his chin
Uncle Sam's tonic & gin
Not made to be an Earthling
Not fit to be an alien
Stars are flickering lights
On Big Empty nights
Three days in the desert
Minus pie sauce in the sky
What's in the blue suitcase?
Why the blue bowling shoes to get to that place?
"Just get on the bus, Gus...
... And get yourself free"
Blue-sky clouds on black
Whipped cream & jack
The United States of Aliens
And a Person in a circle
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 9:19 PM UTC
Stumble on the ragged bones and fur of a deer above the spring,
choke on fear and grab your dog, drag him (and you) away.
Three years later, come upon the picked over corpse of a button buck in the upper field,
notice that there’s only half of it, back away and shudder.
Older now, pass half a dozen bloated carcasses along back country roads,
sigh, swerve to avoid the bloodstains on the pavement.
Meanwhile, your father’s got a doe in the bed of the truck strapped down still warm,
step back to keep the ****** snow off your boots, smile.
There is blood dripping from your nose and your brain feels like it’s rotting,
a blight of molding fur in a fallow field; picture fire, not bones.
Before, herds crept from the tree line at dusk while you sat around the flames,
grazing the lower field until they bolted at the howl of coyotes.
There is a bottle of pills and a carved antler whistle on your dresser;
one could save you, one might **** you. You know which is which.
Stagger through the woods with blurring eyes and a hanging head,
trip on a mouse-chewed antler and pick it up, smile, list right.
There is a white fawn standing plain in the bottom field that will disappear come winter.
Pull the arrows from your eyes; you can feel them, you know they’re there.
When the pain leaves you will run, fleet as deer, and outstrip the exhaustion that
howls at your heels. You will be alive again, and stop rotting.
Meanwhile, try not to trip on your bones, body trying to drop as though from a headshot.
Don’t lie down yet- the blood will scrub clean eventually.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
Add another to your **** streak,
You’re on a roll.
Hey why stop now?
You must take such pride in this.
Headshot- **** assist: +2
You must enjoy getting close to use your knife;
The thrill of being so close to life draining before your very eyes.
That could easily be turned against you,
But you must have a lot of practice.
Am I just another target?
Your accuracy is deadly.
It amazes me how merciless you are.
I am too fearful to fight back.
And in the end,
You will win.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 8:50 PM UTC
"Boom, headshot!"
I'm coming for you,
My groundhog,
Furry adversary.
The next one's for you,
Maybe two.
I shoot first,
Ask questions later.
That's me
And you?
My target practice.
Tell your friends
I've got more.
Don't believe me?
Come out of you hole
And see!
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 1:49 AM UTC
beauty blues by baiting
breaths...tantruming,
posing the uprise
of perfectly fallen light.
sky's headshot, backdropping
backdrop of...
cherry blossoms crumbling
to perform the ceremonial
rights of birds breaking a
****** wing.
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 12:42 AM UTC
Turning eighteen,
Suppose to be an adult;
feeling like a tween
ex sad careless teen,
In the present not where I'm suppose to be,
grief of a loser,
Caught in the in between;
self inflicted headshot,
Or being who I want to be
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 10:42 PM UTC
I walked into the dark forest willingly
My heart was numb, broken and weeping
Head filled with agonizing thoughts and negativity
Yet, I continue strutting like it was nothing
Slapped by twigs, pierced by sharp rocks
As I walked deeper into the forest
I bleed and healed with visible marks
It doesn't hurt, thus I need no rest
The journey continued and I saw a shadow
We draw close and I stepped back with caution
From the corner of my eye I know
That this shadow is no simpleton
Nevertheless I tried to play along with this foe
Shadow feeds sweet seeds of poison that the trees believe
And everything was masked by a mountain of lies
And that I was continuously hit by a branch, root, and a leaf
I kept falling over till my mind, soul and spirit dies
I lay on the ground motionless and broken
Wondering if I should give darkness a second chance
It's a game of 1000 vs 1
A game full of prejudice, unjust and angst
I stood up and persistently hold my broken pieces together
Tumbling, falling and plunging into casualties
Still I positioned confidently like no other
I safely walked away from the evil shadow beast
As I smile with freedom, I was greeted with warmth
In this dark forest I nestled with tender fairies
Soon darkness came with another shadow like death
Full speed headshot knocking you off your knees
Unwelcomed, I escaped and ran for my life
Exhausted and in pain I saw my refuge drawing close
A ball of light getting brighter as I run with time
Squinting as I pushed myself into that brilliant safe house
Out of the dark, I found myself
Older and wiser with wonder scars
Hopping forward like a happy elf
Opening another chapter without wars
Jul 17, 2019
Jul 17, 2019 at 6:21 AM UTC
An unbitten bullet
The truth penetrates
My ears
Reverberating through my skull
A fatal headshot
To my trust
You
Who love the role of martyr
Now have victims of your own
Put to death
In a covert assault
Don’t tell me to relax
Don’t tell me that
Everything’s alright
It’s not
That I’m unforgiving
Obviously
You never wanted forgiveness
You wanted to sustain
The immaculate perception
You paid so much to enjoy
Trust, oaths, innocence
Everything has been defiled
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 9:22 PM UTC
I like the picture of you
all silk skin and lean muscle
but not everywhere
giggles
I just stop to stare
Completely mesmerised
I like to practice kissy faces
into the mirror of your eyes
I like how the milk from
your breakfast cereal
runs down your chin
I want to chase it
with my tongue
I like how the honey
that drips from your pancakes
reminds me of *** and sin
I like how we have
the same routine
Wake up, make up
Shower together
my hand prints
shoulder high on the screen
I like to do yoga poses
to the moves you make
as you ride your girlfriend
but, make no mistake
I have a headshot of me
with a bit of blu tac on back
that I can move around the screen
whenever she's in the scene
and...
I'm liking how you ride me!
It's like Yoga nirvana!
you'll never find the cameras...
I Love you and bananas!
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 3:50 AM UTC
Mr. Movie
Locked and loaded, ready to go
I can already hear sneakers squeak on the linoleum floors
Everything plays out in slow motion
I guess the movies get some things right
There’s really not much to aiming down sights
nothing too complicated about squeezing a trigger
What I never prepared for is the ease of being a star
Each and every kid or teacher I shoot just sinks down
no dramatic death scenes or stupid monologues
Hell, they don’t say much at all
maybe one or two grunts on the way down
I’ve got to hand it to Arnold
When I missed just to the left of his heart, guy didn’t quit
He looked like one of those soldiers in training montages
Our brave hero crawled under the bodies of students rather than barbed wire
I didn’t expect the show
My appreciation of his ingenuity was a headshot
I make my way around the lower level of the school
A peculiar sight catches my eye
Some ****** appears to be spying on my work
He’s got one nice piece of shining metal clutched in a fist
Who’s this interesting character?
Mr. Minute
It’s finally ******* time!
This morning, I tossed my calendar in the trash
Today’s the day
I circled it in red sharpie
Geometry bored me as usual
I looked to my left and right with a private smile
None of the ******** around me could see the truth
Judgment Day was upon them
While Mccarthy droned on about triangles, my eyes stayed on the clock
Passing period was only five minutes away
That’s when I’d whip out my revolver
That’s when these ***** would know their time was up
Imagine my surprise when I heard gunshots down the hall
I quickly unzipped my backpack, took out the gun, and blasted open Mccarthy’s head
The other kids took a couple of seconds before screaming
I was too busy peering out the door to mind them
How the hell was this possible?!
I planned this out since the idea first popped into my mind
Some ****** was trying to steal my schedule
Not on my watch
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 8:07 PM UTC
bought me a golden, a silver and a lead
told him I just need one to shoot me dead
smiling softly, "aim for your head.
first time's the charm" is what he said.
clock strikes twelve and bubbles burst
I squeeze the trigger in wanderlust.
the bullet, through my flesh, blood and bone runs
passing my pain to the loved ones.
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 7:09 AM UTC
I don’t wanna be alone
wait for me
somewhere near the sheep
the sheep and her three
the sheep in the box
invisible to the eye
with love, unemphatically
in a good will shot
a headshot
hear me if survived
near, waiting there
dear, not to be alone
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 2:56 AM UTC
Brothers in War
Why did the two brothers fight one another?
In opposing armies on the same battlefield
Because one was Latvian and the other Russian
Both had the same father but different mothers
The Latvian one welcomed the Nazis when they came
For he was fascist and hated communists
He collaborated and was happy for a few short years
Till fortunes of war made the Soviets come
The Nazis left after battling the new Soviet occupiers
The Latvian bro knew what would happen so was ready
He fought the Soviet invaders with his Mauser rifle
Killing many but eventually being cornered in a village
There were informers about and the Soviets knew
With no escape he vowed to never surrender
The Russians sent his Russian brother to **** him
There was no negotiation for he was a collaborator
His bro tried to flush him out with machine gun fire
And then with accurate rifle shots hoping for a headshot
The Latvian bro had two shots left including one for him
When his chance was there he took it and fired
The Russian bro was a loyal communist and wanted promotion
But he slipped up in his zeal and got nailed by his bro
Who then blew his own ******* head off with his big toe
Thus died two brothers on opposing sides and ideologies
Now forgotten by all except the ghosts
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 9:25 AM UTC
There is
Never enough time.
I see the body
In its lowest state,
Filled with poisons and
Mistakes.
Though, the music
Is nice to hear and
Old friends who smile weakly
Into the sun
Remind me of my youth,
My parents, when
Things were not easy, not hard.
When things were just that:
Things.
Yet it's hard to believe
To believe in believing.
There is so much.
And it's hard to see when
You've been seeing that way
For so long, yet
One wants to change.
Every animal stays the same,
Except for us.
We are the only ones
Willing to destroy for ourselves.
The bullets and the knives and the gas
Spread over the land like a death fog.
One day there will be nowhere to run.
Mother nature will not be there with her *****
She will leave and we the ones who've sent her away.
Silver ores her eyes, pine needles her smile,
Her arms and legs stretching forth
One thousand and one million miles.
It's a sad day
When one no longer
Listens to themselves.
Feels themselves.
Touches themselves.
When you lose yourself
To the noisy temptations
Of the outside world and are lost
Like a leaf in river
Like a feather in a gale
Like a heart on the shoulder
And everything starts to feel
A little bit older and you
Start to think about death and how
Boring it truly is.
I'm more put off by my own predictable demise
Than afraid of it.
Sometimes I hover the knife around the neck
Just to see if the wind will
Push it so.
Sometimes no control is better than all of it.
Sometimes it's good just to listen.
Acting all the time must get old and I see these
Fake smiles with dead eyes knee jerking with headshot
And resumes, hoping for that next big job.
More smiles.
More head nods.
More handshakes.
More lies and money.
More promises unworthy
Of being remembered.
But,
What else is there
Except the constant butchering
Of the truth.
It keeps us fighting.
It keeps us searching.
It keeps us on our feet
Rather than on our backs
In the grave.
And when I lay my weary head
On the pillow or the dirt, the rock, where have you,
And I blink my last blink and
Sigh my last breath,
I will think of you, dear reader and dear page,
And how well and how little
I knew you.
The only way this was ever going to work
Was by separation
And by trust.
We are just drifting contradictions
Who love and hate and live and die,
Screaming beautiful magic until
We can't scream
Anymore.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 2:19 PM UTC