"silencer" poems
at their best, there is gentleness in Humanity.
some understanding and, at times, acts of
courage
but all in all it is a mass, a glob that doesn't
have too much.
it is like a large animal deep in sleep and
almost nothing can awaken it.
when activated it's best at brutality,
selfishness, unjust judgments, ******
what can we do with it, this Humanity?
nothing.
avoid the thing as much as possible.
treat it as you would anything poisonous, vicious
and mindless.
but be careful. it has enacted laws to protect
itself from you.
it can **** you without cause.
and to escape it you must be subtle.
few escape.
it's up to you to figure a plan.
I have met nobody who has escaped.
I have met some of the great and
famous but they have not escaped
for they are only great and famous within
Humanity.
I have not escaped
but I have not failed in trying again and
again.
before my death I hope to obtain my
life.
from blank gun silencer - 1994
7.3k
often it is the only
thing
between you and
impossibility.
no drink,
no woman's love,
no wealth
can
match it.
nothing can save
you
except
writing.
it keeps the walls
from
failing.
the hordes from
closing in.
it blasts the
darkness.
writing is the
ultimate
psychiatrist,
the kindliest
god of all the
gods.
writing stalks
death.
it knows no
quit.
and writing
laughs
at itself,
at pain.
it is the last
expectation,
the last
explanation.
that's
what it
is.
from blank gun silencer - 1991
6.9k
Do not poke the sleeping beast
that hides behind another's mask
his words not written to inspire
but to wound and belittle.
He crows for attention,
this loathesome creature,
with boundless ego
and tongue firmly
rotting in pustuled cheek
he will not be the thief of confidence
he will not be the silencer of hope
for he is the keeper of bitter misery
the captain of a sinking ship
not one will touch his heart
as it sits within it's cavern of disdain.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 7:11 AM UTC
They sell sandwiches and little nightmares with vanity inside.
i glide to a booth and schmooze the next wet group of compromised -
And Charlotte's web
of insular jokes,
snare me from outside my comfort zone...
and i own the green eggs and ham of our sepia tone in the septic lake
of our laughing groan.
We enjoy the view.
I drink to be We and Apart from you.
But the kegs dredge.
They plunder the blunderbuss of our best shot. With Silencer.
We crowd loudly in the Big Easy of our modern strife.
We scrape with dull Lives,
save those with sharp Eyes that see spigots
as unseen Blithe !
We gather in the Hemisphere of our Wanton Anonymity,
as divulged mirrors
in a House
of Cards....
All of my Best Jokes
are Friends
With hearts....
and Then
some...
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
"Muffle the sound
like a chainsaw
to a birdsong.
Fowl play,
I suspect
foul play.
We owe
something.
Risk & rivalry
over silence."
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 4:23 PM UTC
Have you had a day
where you’re filled with
wild green energy
and you just have to
do something with it
before it hiccups through
your pores and hair?
Today was like that, with mist pulled
around snug, like a silencer on
the world’s nerve to speak.
And the people said the fog was
scary, creepy like a bad horror film,
posted pictures of it online like
some bad 7th grade
party from 3 years ago.
I didn’t see it though,
I was so wrapped up in
my own ****
Finally I got up and walked
around campus, to walk off
feelings of unrequited infatuation
and restless rejection.
At first all I saw was
murk around bare brown trees
as I imagined skeevy
yellow leers around the corners.
I turned up the pulsing purple
music clenched in my fist
and closed my eyes to block out it all.
After the fifth sappy song
I looked around and smelled
the mist move in,
looked up and watched
the fog fall down,
heard the street lamps buzz hungrily
saw their lights bleed into the haze
like a sluggish future scar.
The fog was so lonely,
so desperate for attention
it was ******* away
a night light’s only defense
against bedtime boogie men.
All the while I had wandered
the mist had been there
wanting me, shielding me from others
craving my breath that tickled it’s
jaded, gray overcast.
The clouds had pulled away
from the heavens to be
with us mere mortals
and all we did was **** them.
I stood for a moment in shame
and let the mist work it’s way
through me hair, gently.
I fished my selfish, pale hands from
my pockets and let the fog
chill them with vapory laugh.
I breathed in more deeply
letting the mist know that I
was sorry that I had not noticed
it sooner.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
He was a heavenly hellion
acting the fool again
filled of dreams and adrenaline
hes mumbling with the manikins
and mocking the shenanigans
of morbid ministers dabbling with their daggers again
a hooligan
with a silencer ******** in
the machiavellian
looming beneath the luminescence of the crescent moon again
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 10:53 PM UTC
You get back home weary from shocks,
You being impotent is not your tension,
But how two kids at home call you dad,
Basis of all your tensed thoughts is this,
Your wife still has two kids if not yours,
Your wife has the explanation to make,
May God curse the lying life of your wife.
You just get back home & draw your gun,
You load the fresh magazine in midnight,
Breathing long you put your feet silently,
But the door is ajar and she is fast asleep,
Your (or hers) children in the next room,
Your fingers tremble & you've flashback,
Many memories zoom through your mind.
You decide to use the pillow as a silencer,
You now calmly hold the pillow over her,
Breathing cautiously now you are unsure,
But her infidelity isn't what you expected,
Your heart tells you to introspect yourself,
Your mind changes after thinking about it,
Multiple times yourself have been cheating.
You pause & change your mind about her,
You have the gun now point at your own,
But now you see her stirring in her sleep,
Breaking from her sleep for water she is,
Your presence scares her to the hell now,
Your gun pointed at your heart she sees,
Mighty strength she gathers to ****** it.
You grunt and push her away from you,
You whisper, "Why did you cheat me?"
Before she replies to your weird charge,
Barked again yourself in a low whisper,
***"Your children are not mine now I know,"
"Your husband is technically impotent!"***
Maybe she understood everything now.
You remember that she is a policewoman,
You see her unload the gun and discard it,
***"The children - both - are test tube babies,"
"The **** was mine and fertilized in vitro,"
"Your ***** was used artificially as well,"
"Your DNA from your own hair was used,"***
Might have she followed the procedure.
It seems possible & you regret your actions,
But she just smiles & forgives you heartily,
***"It's okay darling, I kept it secret from you,"
"It's really a cute face you've put up now,"***
You now wish to sink down into the floor,
"You would forgive me for doubting you,"
Must be an angel to let you sink your head into her *****
Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 5:17 PM UTC
[read.aloud.in.monosyllabic.monotonous.robotic.voice]
it.is.fifth.may.year 2059
click
got cyber-pests?
introducing.the.all.new.zap-a-cy-pest.control
(no.more.worries.of.being.cyber-bugged)
click
got.some.bad.cyber-pain?
easy.to.use.no.problem.zap-a-pain
(no.more.cyber-headache.or.backpain)
click
got.loud.cyber.noise?
fix.it.with.simple.insta-silencer
(simply.clip.on.and.away.the.cyber.sounds)
click
got.poor.mobility?
get.the.facile.magi-mobi.to.move.you
(no.more.cyber.traffic.jams)
click
need.a.break?
get.the.insta-vac.program.to.cast.off
(take.the.cruise.vacation.of.a.lifetime.in.half.an.hour)
click
feeling.old?
get.the.insta-rejuvy.package
(no.mirrors.needed.anymore)
click!
S T, 9 May 2013
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 6:45 PM UTC
I'm young and I shouldn't preach
but at least listen to me speak.
I have dreams about
what this world could be.
I have ideas
on how we could be
and to discredit me
based solely on my youth
tells me more about you
than you could ever tell me.
Who silenced you
when you were young?
Who taught you that
the younger generation is dumb?
Who taught you it was okay
to silence those youthful tongues?
Who silenced you
you silencer?
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
He called my poem
Wise and tropical
The heat of the Caribbean:
The tongue of the goddess
Years of eating so much
Fishcakes lace with Guinea Pepper Seeds
Ginger beer and mauby bark drink
Top with lemonade and pomegranates
remains in my blood stream:
When I dream, I dream
and react like a chosen prophets
So, I spread my words like a modern Moses
Message in my poems, are
Like ashes, they can’t be bottle
They have to be scattered
Throughout the internet,
Around the globe: global feeds,
Depending on the poet’s pen
The archives is not the place for them to be stored
I once saw my mother sob
As she kneel in the sugar cane field
The tears was for her children future,
These days I sob because of a bad dream
Our American dream is no longer valid,
a beacon of hope without a definition
for our future:
Tupac saw the comings
In his dreams,
Suddenly, the silencer
Silence him,
Martin Luther king, had a dream
A silencer silent him
Apparently, John Lennon was getting closer to the truth
he too was silent
He called my poems
Wise and tropical,
I think of them as written transmission:
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 11:27 AM UTC
i was a light I couldn’t turn off.
a signal i wasn’t able to ease.
i was a gun devoid of silencer.
i was constant sound, ready to burst your ears.
i was a broken windup toy, a doll marching on, disconnected, loose arm,
hair reduced to a blackberry bush, a sequence of shadows. of shadows.
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 6:53 AM UTC
If lyric could **** I’d want every one
of my poems to be a Walther P38 w/
a silencer, the kind of gun protruding
from Bond’s pocket like
the metallic ******* p-shooter
he’ll stick into some Russian
beauty by the name of Svetlana
at the end of the movie. The poem
would be **** (right?) bc everyone
knows a big gun translates into a
bigger **** I’d whip it out when you
least expect it and blast a full
chamber of multi-syllabics into
your cranium. And the best part,
bc it’s so silent, you wouldn’t even
notice the eruption from the barrel.
Your last thought would be, “how beautiful.”
Then blackness.
Afterwards, I’d remove your brains from the piece,
and watch as the words trickle from your
wounds. I'd leave the poem at the ****** scene
and call it art. Surely then it would draw an audience.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 10:06 AM UTC
twofist head muscle: kineval.
but really iz jus 2:15
shoelacegazing in a prefab park gazebo.
texty fingertip slinger.
chase that dragon.
kickin fake jordans
in a tomb called Khufu
diffuse serial NOONSDAY scenario:
always
cut
the
pixelated
rainbow
wire.
yuh know, that
jejune
box
hero:
from alphabet soup news to
netfizzle huludoodoo,
twiddling its Neros.
V iz for silent
in the actual voodoo
that’s been silenced
with dogooder silencer.
blap.
blargh.
this is all so
hashtagical.
prolly. so
follow me.
anyway resistance is feudal, ‘cause
evil doth hearts a good fight.
“evolve?! nevar!”
quoth the flat noted, dorsal
Dept. of Unkindness
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 2:07 PM UTC
I've never felt so at home,
as I did the day I met her.
For once I couldn't hear
the bickering of voices in my head,
and that's how I knew.
Home is wherever your demons
go mute, and the feeling of
her palm on mine is
a better silencer than
antidepressants ever were.
She makes me feel whole,
like the only reason my heart
is aching is because I
cannot possibly love her more.
She smiles at me like
there might actually be
something there to smile about.
When I am with her,
I forget that society did not
teach me to love this way.
Did not teach me that
sometimes love arrives
in a package tied with a pink bow.
And I could change all the pronouns
in my love poems to him,
if it would make others
more comfortable,
but it wouldn't change the truth.
The truth is that nothing
has ever came easy in life,
except for loving her.
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 11:09 PM UTC
I'm not a fighter
Yet, I'm like a silencer
So, you should see the red signs.
You snuffed all of the heat
Which makes you my enemy
Know that means that you should hide
You and deception
Mouth your confessions
Don't let the blue dagger slip
For you are beneath me
You love when I'm hurting
Hope you're the next one to trip
*A snake can be heavy
Their bites can be crazy
Look I have lost my ****** mind*
*Yet here I am, ready
My actions are steady
You've once called me one of a kind*
**Now you will see many
Come shadows of plenty
I hope you swallow your pride**
__You've never met crazy
Your sight might get hazy
Get ready for a real ride__
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 12:38 PM UTC
Silently, we sit
in a circle, reading
our letters. And they
my classmates, my
temporary family, absorb words
I will never see, and
shake quietly, weeping. You
sent me a letter, too
and you tell me you love me,
underlined twice and adorned
with an exclamation point. You
tell me you love me, and
stand tall, seemingly
above me, not seeing
how I have grown long ago
out of your shadow. You
say you love me, and this
is a gunshot, but I
have put a silencer
in your rifle. In order to cry
you still have to care.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 4:04 AM UTC
Still and aware now as the energy begins to stir,
my racing thoughts now begin to slur.
Consistent practice has titled me connoisseur.
A silencer.
Free from my past saboteur.
We all "were",
and next step must occur.
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 4:23 PM UTC
He sipped that ice cold drink so refreshing
outside of a quaint cafe.
Watching the people particularly the girls
tapping the table he was tense.
This his first mission as a covert operative
trying to be positive.
Just told to expect a package to be delivered
nothing more disclosed.
His earpiece buzzed as a young woman sat
placing her coffee down.
Using trigger words in their conversation
she responded without evasion.
Getting up she smiled politely saying goodbye
then quickly went away.
Under her saucer he saw a piece of paper
pulling it out he read.
Look under my side of the coffee table
difficult as it was unstable.
Nearly tipping it over pulling the sticky tape
being firmly held.
Concealing it trying not to look awkward
joining a passing group.
Concerned there was somebody stalking
he started quickly walking!
His fears were confirmed when he heard a pop
a bullet fired close by!
Through a silencer then there was another
taking evasive action.
Informing the surveillance team in the van
then into the underground he ran!
Planning a route for his own safe escape
he knew the terrain.
Finding the spot he had put a gun and torch
now he was prepared.
Shaking from the cold and possibly fear
there were footsteps near!
As they came along side he jumped out
the bright beam on.
At the same time firing his magnum gun
a grunt and a thud.
Then at his feet a body laid motionless
no emotion did he express!
He informed the team of what had occurred
continuing with his task.
Others could be close behind for the cargo
so delivery was vital.
The destination was at last radioed through
knowing what he had to do!
First mission and first blood his career had begun!
The Foureyed Poet.
Jun 22, 2012
Jun 22, 2012 at 10:11 PM UTC
Im standing on the edge.
A fifty-foot drop has never looked so appetizing.
I want to step forward and take a bite.
I see the asphalt below as candy, and i my sweet tooth is aching.
Im being held back by what little support i have left.
They tell me taking that first step has no return, that it will ruin my figure, that there is no plastic surgeon that can fix the mistakes i would make.
The cravings are pulling me in, i need a taste of the sweet release.
I cant get it off my mind.
I was speeding on the drive to the top of the cliff.
Every tree looked like a silencer to the voices in my head.
The street signs are my goodbye notes.
and the ground fifty feet below, is the beginning of the end.
Thank you, im sorry. Sincerely the forgotten.
Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 9:29 AM UTC
Isn't it funny how events
Fall into place
Like cigarette ashes hitting the page
Each one of us recites our lines
So perfectly in this play called life
But I never had a good memory
So I could never find the right words to say .
An *** in a world full of hang guns
Rapid fire mind with no silencer
A lead tongue with hollowtip fingers
Tried to lead
But just ended blowing everything to pieces
And watched these fools eat it .
Because in a world full of carbon copies
I am oxygen .™
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC
A silencer on an a-bomb
A muzzle on a leviathan
A band aid for the plague
A Rennie for Kracotowa
and a hanky for swine flu
Such are flowers on a grave
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 5:28 AM UTC
Tick,
the seconds passing by,
Lick,
his lips are feeling dry,
Crick,
his finger stiff with cold,
Click,
the shot is clean and bold,
Flick,
the gun is gone from sight,
Quick,
he fades into the night.
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 7:08 AM UTC