Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
There was a shooting in Redstone
Only one man dead, none hurt
He was found dead in the morning
With just one hole right through his shirt

He was lying in the main street
Face down, right there in the dirt
He was found dead in the morning
With just one hole right through his shirt

I'T WASN'T SUPPOSED TO END LIKE THIS
FACE DOWN HERE, IN THE STREET
I'M A GUNFIGHTER OF MUCH RENOWN
I'M JUST A GUN WHO CAN'T BE BEAT
I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE
LYING DEAD, SHOT IN THE BACK
I WAS GUNNED DOWN BY A COWARD
I DIDN'T HEAR THE GUNSHOT CRACK

The crowd had formed around him
Lying there, all hard and cold
No witnessess to the shooting
At least not one so bold

They knew him from his weapon
The sixteen notches on the grip
He came in on the Flyer
He won't be on the return trip

I'T WASN'T SUPPOSED TO END LIKE THIS
FACE DOWN HERE, IN THE STREET
I'M A GUNFIGHTER OF MUCH RENOWN
I'M JUST A GUN WHO CAN'T BE BEAT
I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE
LYING DEAD, SHOT IN THE BACK
I WAS GUNNED DOWN BY A COWARD
I DIDN'T HEAR THE GUNSHOT CRACK

He was staying at The Belfry
He only brought one bag to town
No one knew why he had come here
Except to shoot somebody down

The papers ran the story
The next morning in THE SUN
They ran a picture and a story
Of the "Man With The Pearl Gun"

I'T WASN'T SUPPOSED TO END LIKE THIS
FACE DOWN HERE, IN THE STREET
I'M A GUNFIGHTER OF MUCH RENOWN
I'M JUST A GUN WHO CAN'T BE BEAT
I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE
LYING DEAD, SHOT IN THE BACK
I WAS GUNNED DOWN BY A COWARD
I DIDN'T HEAR THE GUNSHOT CRACK

The story was quite lengthy
Considering no one saw him shot
But, as usual there was someone
Who had a story to be bought

He'd been shot from an end window
Above the Local Mercantile Store
One bullet from a rifle
And the gunman was no more

I'T WASN'T SUPPOSED TO END LIKE THIS
FACE DOWN HERE, IN THE STREET
I'M A GUNFIGHTER OF MUCH RENOWN
I'M JUST A GUN WHO CAN'T BE BEAT
I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE
LYING DEAD, SHOT IN THE BACK
I WAS GUNNED DOWN BY A COWARD
I DIDN'T HEAR THE GUNSHOT CRACK

Turns out the gunman's killer
Was the one he'd come to find
The shooter was the killer's child
The only son, he'd left behind

They never met before this
He'd never ever met his Dad
But, The Gunman came to find him
And in the end, it's kind of sad

I'T WASN'T SUPPOSED TO END LIKE THIS
FACE DOWN HERE, IN THE STREET
I'M A GUNFIGHTER OF MUCH RENOWN
I'M JUST A GUN WHO CAN'T BE BEAT
I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE
LYING DEAD, SHOT BY MY SON
I WAS GUNNED DOWN WITHOUT KNOWING
I GUESS HE'S NOW THE WANTED GUN.
Sk Abdul Aziz Jun 2016
What has happened to this city?
Why is everyone afraid to live here?
Why are all the faces pale?
Why is there an eerie silence all around?
Why is there a sense of fear in the air?
The markets are empty
The schools are deserted
The fields don't have no visitors
Many people don't even have food and water
The city seems like a person wrongly
locked up in chains
Waiting to set itself free and flee for it's life
The city which was once a hub of peace and joy...
...has today become a haven for crime and violence
Each day witnessess violence
Children are killed
Women are molested
Men are shot dead
People are afraid to venture out of their homes
The police no longer protects
For it's duty has now become to oppress
Daily clashes with the public is something they are accustomed to now
In fact it scares me to think that they actually enjoy it
The government watches all of this with a blind eye
While the city continues to burn
They are busy filling up their coffers
People are afraid to speak out
And those who do speak out are silenced
Each and everyday the sun sets upon this city with a heavy heart
For it knows that in the dark the city suffers even more
Today the city is like a scared child
Afraid even of it's own shadow
The air has become polluted...
...not with smoke but with hatred
It pains me to see the city like this
I hope and wish that things change
This city deserves better
The people deserve better
Paul Jackson Aug 2010
the first shovel-full wasn't that bad i thought
the swirling stars above me
tiny silent witnessess
watching me as i lay
just beneath the surface of the earth
the second shovel-full landed on my chest
a slight choking plume of dust
contained in this shallow hole
fills my lungs and steals my breath
the third shovel-full felt so heavy
my struggling sluggish heart
fights to beat in my dirt covered chest
i can taste the soil now -
unmistakably betrayal
lines my lips and coats my tongue
all thanks to that fourth shovel-full
these two determined shovels
erasing the sky from view
one after the other
pile after pile
no longer do i see the stars
no longer can i breathe
no longer do i feel the pain
i am no longer
Sven Stears Sep 2013
With Witnessess as our God's,
Our love was meant to be forever.
But we spent to long, straining,
heart shrapnel, from lukewarm coffee.

Celestial fire due to write super novellas
in the spaces we shared,
instead blinded us,
with bright lights,and stardust.

I'm still burning the fire that started when we met.
I feed that fire, like I fought the depression, when you left.
But I tell you now, as much as it scared me.
*******. It was warming.

I never meant for us to be the spark
that died before the flint.
Two damp squibs
choking as the air left the room.

Leaving projectors to play monochrome fantasies
in the smokescreen of your absence,
as the acrid plastic nasal tumours,
grew inside of our silent movie.

The coughing had lost it's soul.
Revealing a struggle for air.
All the dance routines had died
life saving became life,

I am so sorry, I spent my time,
kissing gifthorses on the mouth,
while looking for Trojans
instead of just enjoying your presence.

They say if you love something, set it free,
but bluebirds sing in cages
better than any canary
when fed on tidbits and tall stories.

So forgive me my dramas
Let me soap up in my failures
my ritual clean begins at the home
we built from borrowed time

I hope heaven loves you as hard as have.

— The End —