Best Blow Your Brains Out Poems | Poetry

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Details | Blow Your Brains Out Poem | Create an image from this poem.

does this gun in my mouth make me look suicidal?

guilty war pigs with nowhere to hide
the shame of a nation that doesn't try
the obsession of bad to the bone
does this gun in my mouth make me look suicidal

no
not at all

die for the cause of someone elses desire to kill
blackmail and pigeonhole the stool pigeon
to finaly have a taste of rocky road
the quaking leaf you are shaking on that limb
ready to let go of the autumn wind

someone bought the farm
new names for anthrax the whitemen brought to heighten their power
does this gun in my mouth make me look suicidal?

no 
not at all

makes you look like a war pig about to do the right thing

the smiles on every childs face will haunt you for an eternity
the celebrations you persist to endure to breathe as a scapegoat for your own mercy
won't come
the lie you live can't be escaped nor washed away
alas the clouds tell the breeze of the birds wings and the flowers of bees
the smell of death and decay in the spring won't let you sleep

does this gun in my mouth make me look suicidal?

no
not at all

the string on your finger
to remind you of the note in your pocket
the one of the sign as to when and how to blow your brains out
an instructional video you don't need difficulties with
for the spider web weaving trouble
merciless doubtfull remorse of an eteernity entrapping you
the oak and ivy replacing the sadalwood and stone
soapy hands washing clean in the mud
forever and ever
to never be forgiven
unbearable good news from the sheep from the bull on parade
the massacre you want can start with you today

does this gun in your mouth make you look suicidal?

no
not at all

looks like the death of a war pig
and i get off on stuff like that

no salvation
no mercy
no love
no forgiveness

die 
in the
streets of
society
eventually
nothing will be
tolerated

does the bounty on your heads come cheap?
not really
we all add to the pot
and this obvious heart will feast
on the dirt upon the floor you belong
from this gaping hole like a wrecking ball
that crucifies us all nailed to a grudge
you call a rollercoaster

this curse of simplified things can not be undone
forever spider weaves webs
soapstone and clover
the complete take over
nothing to believe
but the death of the devil i place upon your shoulder

the gun in your mouth looks suicidal
as you creep and creak up the stairs down the hall
knock knock ding dong ding dong
father time and lady luck
offered this fate my destiny

666


Copyright © Troy Jeremy Nelson | Year Posted 2010


Details | Blow Your Brains Out Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Anthem for Doomed Youth

Let’s hear three cheers for the decade of disinfectant!
Clean out your insides with cheap vodka!
Blow your brains out with Nirvana!
Your breath reeking of teen spirits,

Does weed count as a vegetable?

You’re getting your five a day,
Candyman on the corner
Selling sweets for afters,

Don’t forget the medicine cabinet buffet,

Your mother’s migraine pills,
And faded Ritalin packets,
From the good old days,

We are the children,
Of the Children of the Revolution,

The Harbingers of Revulsion,
And the Standard Bearers of Revolvers,
Desperate for you to know how much we don’t care,

Something’s wearing secret holes inside us,

Nuclear fallout?
The brainfry radiation from our phones?
A big ass moth chewing at our soul fabric,

Fill them up with whatever’s close to hand,
Smoke and smut and other people’s bodies,

There’s a virus swimming in our systems,

Pump it full of alcohol,
Drink it, drown it, bleed it out,
A stolen bottle of Jacks and a bargain basement penknife,
That oughta do the trick,

Living for the weekend,
Cheap thrills and easy kicks,
How’s that for a creed to live and die by,

We are the future,

Headmasters and Principles of the world join forces,
And spread the good word,
Patrons of pontification,
They preach to us about keeping America united,
And Britain great,

Well hold ‘em high!

Put your hands in the air like ya just don’t care!
We’ll return the favour and pump the lot of them full of pills
Of the plumbum variety,

That’ll edu-ma-cate ‘em.
That’ll learn ‘em good and proper!

We don’t like Mondays.


Copyright © Synonym Thesaurus | Year Posted 2009


Details | Blow Your Brains Out Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A gun

They say kill the bad thoughts and feelings, but they're all concealed in your head? So,do you blow your brains out and hope that your scattered insides contain the impure thoughts?...purge yourself with a gun?...


Copyright © Tricia Campese | Year Posted 2017