Best Bullets Poems
Lifeless bullets asleep as captive
In the restive barrels of the cold guns
Cold as the shadow of death
Waiting camouflaged in the dark
Wake up at the strike of the trigger
Pulled by crooked fingers of insane men.
The bullets to accomplish the mission
Whiz on fire to their feral freedom
Carrying the slices of mad men’s spite
On their zooming shoulders
Shoot off toward the fated targets
To deliver the message of murder.
Would the bullets stop midair
Abandon the fatal flight
Refuse to become cold blooded killers
Stop and shed the flakes of fury
Fling the lethal intent in the thin air
And disappear forever.
Would the life they get from fire
In the stillness of the deadly barrel
Blossom into flowers of the verdant vale
Would they let the living
Breathe free the fragrant air
In this beautiful world.
Won’t we listen the mute voice of fallen lives
Imploring our humane sensibility :
Let the bullets sleep forever unfired
In the rusted barrels of the discarded guns
Let the shooting ones stop midair
Drop as flowers on graveyards.
________________
April 24, 2021
Inspired by the Connecticut tragedy and another minor shooting that happened in my home state
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Blood and Bullets
That night we cried ourselves to sleep
For each of the little children the blood did weep
Serve upon this misery and damage
No words will excuse the savage
The vultures swoop, spread the sugar coated lies
But still the frozen child dies
Yet they still wish to remove what little safety we have
But they fail to see that will not stop the slings and arrows they have
For the media projects the fame they crave
Like wild dingos they consume what we fail to save
Serve and protect is not the duty of just some but all as a whole
ALL AS A WHOLE
And we fail
And we fail
The cameras prance around like costumed horses in a dance
All the while the mud splattered reality burns and singes the lines of damned fantasies
We are to blame, shining glitter and fame on the damned souls that should be burned
We spit acidic words of hate all the while praising them in glittering spectral lights of fame
They do not heed the angry words, but revel in the talk of them...them..
Them...
It's
All
About
THE KILLER
Blood and bullets pollute the spoiled ground but no one cares for the rotten
Sadness rings through for a week but soon the victims are forgotten
But no one forgets the criminal...Infamous
He is immortalized by the fame...fame...infamous
Blood and bullets
Blood and bullets
Blood and bullets
Blood and bullets
Blood stains
Bullets jump
dead forgotten
left rotten
Monster remembered
remembered
Blood and bullets
Blood
and bullets
Decade of Bullets
Ouagadougou, Ouagadougou, Ouagadougou
See a procession of young mothers chattering their way
From water fountains in grenade torn sandals
And blood laced bras
Somalia, Somalia, Somalia
See the moon disappearing in a mass of gun smoke
Guns splitting the stars from the skin of night
Rwanda, Rwanda, Rwanda
This is a wound from which the pus of grief flows freely
Meandering through rock masses into the valley that lost its freedom
Timbuktu, Timbuktu, Timbuktu
I hear a rush of footsteps of sorrow
Rugged peasants carrying their compounds to far away valleys of flowers
Take Two Bullets
Take two bullets orally with gun powder dry
Loaded water as a chaser can shoot them down
Some cinnamon for flavor to encase the rounds
Ensures the procedure is correct, is profound
Torpedoes are too difficult to swallow
Something about their shape and size
Avoid bazooka breath when you digest
The aftertaste is hollow and benign
Keep projectiles away from children
Who creep up from behind
Stir things up with barrels of a pistol
Two bullets is what the doctor ordered
But not as suppositories
If all goes well with the original directions
Fragments should come out intact about the other side
We can project that these projectiles
Will have a happy healthy outcome in the end
Keep extra ammunition by your side in bed
Always check the expiration dates
Take your bullets every day to stay alive
Bullets have no eyes
In the mourning a son won’t rise
No plan in life for demise
Black men hear our cries
Stop shooting killing each other
We need love not hate brother
Time unwinds while you slang
Dealing in death please change
One mother and father miss
The hope denied by this
Feud so rude and senseless
That dude who killed their kid
You think you had reason to
End a life will bring misery blue
For you have to face the truth
Humanity is lacking in you
You can never undo evil deed
No matter what you plead
At night your closed eyes see
His eyes as life leaves he bleeds
Now your family members know
Who you really are in your soul
A killer despite reasons why
In a cell of a jail you will reside
When you choose to kill a man
You turn from God’s holy hand
You do the devil’s work indeed
You become a slave never free
So we lost you too you see
No longer an asset to be
No longer in the community
Not free to thrive and dream
Can you at least give back
By deterring youth from your path
Can you tell truth and testify
Reasons bullets have no eyes
BULLETS!
If there ever was a time in the history of human, it is now that one’s being is
bound to civic duty impost.
He or she is a loyal citizen of his or her nation.
Intensified is the fortress bond of armory and strength.
Through our faith and courage, our minds and our heart have engaged vigor.
Dynamism is diversification via structure.
What is seen is statement beyond repose via strategy.
As we discuss the militant way, we centralize our thoughts
To suffering in other nations against dogmatic methods, systemically
approached the right to vote interposed by illegality of the election booth
intervened by bribes and other means to destroy equability.
What is seen is statement beyond repose via strategy.
Impartiality is an assured plus of unanimous.
Political leaders aboard focus on a suppressed nation through their views on
enslavement and incapacitate.
For sure, this is the Stalin’s views of the Ukraine orders retain.
To incarcerate through tenets of rapaciousness is cruel.
Therefore, what is seen is only a system of beliefs.
The Ukrainians must remain free to be at liberty.
______________________________________|
Verlena S. Walker
Penned on October 02, 2014!
Form: Decapentasyllabic Verse
On trains
on trains
trains that travel through tunnels of ambiguity in delusion
The rectangular motion of the subtle wheels meld into the subconscious
A failed and flawed and fragrant commuter routine of blood sweat and ignorance.
And ignorance of blood and sweat and tears
and tears of blood sweat in ignorance
Outside fragmented windows stand the borders of disease that border humanity as a whole
Humanity is a disease some would say
some would say it isn't.
A chaotic jumble of envy and spiritless ineptitude is all that I can view in the darkness
We all roll into the station whilst time grinds still but in the precious seconds we can't
keep still.
Forged and tattered tickets to oblivion checked by the conductor of greed.
We all conduct greed at some point in our life
We just need a nudge and a wink to get back on track.
The end of the line stretches into infinite divergences.
And on another platform somewhere stands a man who looks just like me
And who smiles just like me
And who cries just like me
But maybe he will not die quite like me
And maybe if we met he would not like what he sees in me.
A cosmic river
of boomerang bullets
fired decades ago ripping through
Indian flesh Black bodies
Vietnamese heads
Lebanese souls and millions more
of assorted uncounted Others each
little lead blob morphing through
ancient mosques and bible belts
Algerian dead ends in Mexican villages
erased lives scattering through space time
shape shifting as they return to the unholy
source of gold diggers graves and Left Bank royals
a rush of karma fueled vengeance
returning as a no-mans jihad against
everyone and
nothing
amen
bullets are flying
and people dying
without a reason why
as bloody bodies lie
so much rage
any age
some may say tougher gun laws
others will say laws bring flaws
this blood bath has to stop
life on Earth not a flop
God may be the answer
just ask a minister
this isn't the wild west
when they had so much less
Young and innocent they went to school
Expecting to learn and play
Never in anyones wildest of dreams
Did we expect that day
For a rain of tears to shell them
From one lost deep to sin
But heavenly hosts came down for them
Releasing them from him
The devil he did have his day
But God in end dost win
For noubt will be lost but these young lives
Will not be gone in vain
The laws of the land will change in ways
For it must not happen again
Those who reign must stand on this
Take stance and make a difference
No one should be able to take a life
With intent nor mindless innocence
For even when with madmans mind
You cannot be left to mingle
How can you be able to walk in shop
Purchase guns and not be liable
Actions speak far louder than words
And if we let just one slip through
Without accounting for their sin
It might well be me or you
For on anyone these bullets
Might be named to fall upon
So make a difference – make a change
Add your name – petition
The whole wide world mourns in shame
An Amnesty is long past needed
Write your letters – use your vote
Act now while it is fresh
And pray for the souls of all those lost
That each by the Lord be blessed
Also for those who’ve lived through this
That they might find a way
To find the strength and courage
To step out further each day
I open my package of
oatmeal raisin, chocolate chips cookies
I scraped away the sun dried devils
and devoured the chocolate chips of course
but something felt funny, so I forced
my finger down my throat and puked
up my lunch, the yellow,green concoction
contradicted the lead filled little bites of death
and I also spit up some blood as well
stomach pains and heart palpitations
were my best friends for the next 3 months
reminding me that if I ever buy cookies
online again make sure the package
doesn't say "from Russia with love..."
Off and on they signaled, always in rapid fire
casting munitions across my window blind
A garish platoon of aggressors engaged in war
all tossing hand grenades at my haggard mind
Their bullets were blinking in Morse code
flashing in rhythm with droning dissonant jazz
From their stronghold across the asphalt road
they nightly attacked in a tawdry scheme
No clouds as allies to enshroud the moonlight
In cryptic shadows I avoided the street lamp
and the eyes of their sentry. Her stilettos tapping
in syncopation, I slipped by their sentinel vamp
Stealthily I moved, muscles tensed and strained,
I peered through the umbras to launch my attack
An alleyway spotted, and there I ordained
the weapon to silence their nightly escapade
Behind their front line, my hand unlatched the box
I flipped all the switches and pulled out the fuse
The only sounds I heard were patrons moaning
No Morse code signals or stilettos walking in ruse
On my window blinds there were no flashing lights
No tacky neon sign, offering home brewed beer on tap
Victory over the aggressors. I mumbled their last rites
I slept peacefully through the night with a fuse in my lap
We all hear about the habits of successful people,
My habits are not the same.
Successful people, whatever that means,
Their habits seem kind of tame.
I don’t read a lot, nor organize my year,
Nor ever get up bright and chirpy.
I enjoy writing my thoughts, living spontaneously,
Then waking up feeling blurry.
I dance in elevators, touch hot plates,
And practice arguments in my head.
And rather than minimizing distractions,
I live with color and music instead.
And when I’m on the phone I don’t sit
And pronounce with perfect allocution.
I walk the house laughing, joking and swearing-
It’s a trusted institution.
I would like to eat healthy, drink water, walk heaps,
And regularly go and press weights.
But I love my kebabs after a night at the pub,
Dancing, drinking and singing with mates.
Actually, the other day, I went for a run, through the rain,
In the car park, to my car.
It was a fun little run; I dodged bullets and missiles,
Pretending I was a big movie star.
Well, thinking about it, my habits are successful,
Other people’s just don’t match mine.
To me it’s about being happy, open and free, it was easy,
“Success” I would redefine.
There’s Nothing Like a Good War
There’s nothing like a good war.
I watched a video of men killing men
Rapid fire, rapid death, rapid fear
When will we ever learn? Never?
It’s in our DNA and used against us
Goad a man, tell him his country needs him
Tell him, to go kill the villagers
Tell him, they deserve it. His gun needs
To by fired, it’s bullets like him are
Expendable, always more to take their place.
Nothing like a good war, a noble cause
Which has God firmly on its side
Thought up by a presidential psycho
On his yacht on a Sunday morning
While a calm sea and fresh breeze
Tickles the blond call girl’s hair.
A moment of boredom and an
Unprovoked attack takes shape.
A couple of weeks of genocide
Watched by a paid audience
Eating from the same trough
Wishing they’d thought of it first
No, there’s nothing like a good war
A gentle genocide, a worthy cause
A mother tells her son, fight or you’ll
Go to prison, certain death is much better
She gets his boots, ten quid and a
Medal. He gets eternity. Nothing like
A good war?
David Cox 12/06/22
Bullets and Bars
There goes another one
Shot or put behind bars
Put behind bars with battle scars
Scars from protests
Ones from which whites try to contest
These white cops try to put us to rest
But we just raise one fist to show who’s best
Bullets and Bars
These whites try to define who us black men are
How many more will be shot
How about those we say are guilty but the jury says is not
Do all lives matter?
Like chocolate chips in pancake batter?
Some say our race is a disgrace
Or just by the look on that white cops face
When he pulls the trigger to decide another black person’s fate
A fate a black man can’t decide because there’s a gun to his face
Bullets and bars
We ask, when will it stop
But at the end of the day we all know that decision is up to the cop
Bullets and bars
We look for leaders, not dealers
We want to drive down the street in Lambos and Ferraris
Without being pulled over to ask
“Where’d u get it”
Without hesitation, next thing you know you’re put behind bars for a crime you didn’t commit
Bullets and bars
One shot after another
Now there’s a sad mother
Are whites favored over blacks
Like dogs are liked more than cats
Keith Scott, Alton Sterling, and Terence Crutcher
All of them shot dead, now sons don’t have fathers
Bullets and Bars
Be careful of how you look and who you are
Because you can be shot with a bullet or put behind bars
Now listen to these bars