Best Gunning Poems
The year 1890
December 29th
Wounded Knee, South Dakota
My tribe lost their lives
The USS 7th
On their orders so
To round up the Sioux
Railroad herd them and go
Us Lakota were next
To disarm their request
But my cousin Black Coyote
At best he was deaf
Not hearing the orders
To lay down our guns
A chain reaction
Ensued on my tribal ones
Chaos and mayhem
Distressed our grounds
This proud nation
Beaten down
Men, women and children
300 slain
Another reminder
For the white mans gain
To disrespect the fallen
Slows our souls to our gods
We were left in a blizzard
Hardened like logs
In three days we rose
Civilians did lift
And dumped us unceremoniously
In a hole in the drift
My corpse and my peoples
Stripped and robbed
As flakes of snow
Confirm our spirits have sobbed
As i am reborn again
In another country
It gives me the freedom
To look back and see
That December day in 1890
Gunning down innocent ones
Not so mighty
The Medal of Honor
In their distinguished past
The record still stands
On their chests they flash
But attitudes change
As two centuries pass
The Medal Of Honor
Has won back its class
No longer the weak
Gunned down by the strong
Its man against man
Sometimes they do wrong
So as i sit back in my adopted nation
Will i live again past this lives station
Writing the wrongs of modern man
This Lakota warrior who never ran
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/native-americans.php
Fear The Walking Dead
Moaning groaning growling too
they stumble in the night.
Looking for someone like you
so they can grab a bite.
Bumping up against the door
and peeking through the crack.
They no longer know the time
but want a midnight snack.
Heed the warnings that I give
listen to the words I said.
Lock your windows and your doors
and fear the walking dead.
Wearing clothes for every day
like night gowns ties or blazers.
Eyes are glowing in the night
and teeth as sharp as razors.
Scratching clawing at the glass
their back broken in two.
Just another day undead
they want a taste of you.
Running gunning fear inside
they gather in a bunch.
Today you're guest of honor
and they're having you for lunch.
Not safe in a school or church
not safe beneath your bed.
Lock your windows and your doors
and fear the walking dead
Edwin C Hofert
CINDERELLA WHAT NOW
I’ve often seen you zoom past Mars,
Blonde hair flowing and blowing
In the breeze of the milky way,
And its trillions of stars.
I so longed for you to be mine,
I imagined us sitting in the curve of the moon
As it slowly began to wane,
And we watched planet earth beneath us,
And the gods of the seas sending tides
Out, splashing foaming and dancing,
Raging, loving that God and the Moon,
Chose mother nature to run this chore,
By being bossy and certainly imposing!
Mystery girl what is your name,
Is it true you are called Cinderella,
You must be the fourth generation,
And according to the invitation
To the ball, your great grandparents were,
Prince Charming and Cinderella
The rich prince and the poor cinder girl
With whom Prince Charming fell in love.
And now you have all the wealth you need,
Choose me, tell your dad what you really want,
And take, a slight tumble,
Learn to become a little humble.
You have captivated my being,
Only of you do I dream.
I know you’re from Venus and hot,
Many suitors you have got,
From Jupiter, Mercury and Uranus,
And Saturn, which one of us
Will it be,
For I want to marry you,
I have no jewels
To offer like the others,
I am not poor, and will cherish you,
And give you a good life,
As my wife.
Only love and devotion,
From my heart with emotion.
Pretty lady all will be disclosed
At the Ball, at which your father
Will name the lucky man.
You are stunning,
But for whom are you gunning?
The night arrives, all the eligible
Young men invited from every planet,
Arrive in high tech space ships,
Engineered to impress,
Like your emerald studded green
Much admired ball gown, gems in excess,
Never in History has such a gown
Been seen before,
I’m on an emotional seesaw,
Your green eyes seem cold,
And your manner distant and bold.
The suitor finally named, Prince Zuma
From Jupiter and you will be
Wife number ten.
You must think long and hard
About this wedding,
You will be part of a harem,
I whisper in her ear,
I am leaving this pretentious scene
I’m afraid this match might
have a sad ending,
You, being the subject of this plight.,
Should you need me, contact details
In the hem of your pricey dress.
Think hard, your life has
Become quite a mess,
Money has become your master,
You are not thinking of forever after.
Biding her time, stalking her prey;
Knowing that far he can not stray
The huntress has readied her bow
And just waits for his heart to show
She’s set a trap and, once again
The hunted bites finding naught within
But false hope and the fresh new pain
Of another dart’s bright red stain
Her aim is true, never missing mark
A shot through ear straight to the heart
Finding company amongst wounds
That haven’t killed but surely doomed
Satisfied hunt, the quarry alive
For pain is all the archer strives
The game stays up and keeps coming
The Huntress smiles and keeps gunning
Shot after shot from near and afar
Each creating a brand new scar
Save for the one that sailed over head
And only scrambled his brain instead
Battered and bruised, not giving ground
Wanting to scream, making no sound
The hunted feels warm but shivers
Waiting for an empty quiver
But more missiles fly, tearing flesh
Slowly putting out fire in chest
That once burned full of amour
Now growing colder by the hour
She could put end to agony
“But where’s the fun in that?” says she
So she fires on with bolts of guile
At helpless prey, sad, in denial
Feathered shafts always boring in
‘Til weathered soul was beaten thin
And arrows bounced and couldn’t mark
When,
Soft warm flesh became cold stone heart
Don’t call Moses a liar he was much more than that
There are no sands of time just time and sand
(and not enough of either in this land)
Just one way is one too many ways skin a cat.
Peter denied Jesus thrice and he still got a booking
Space is hurling through us not the other way around
Don’t look for the Arc it’s…just stop looking
(it will never be found).
Better to not be a fly on the wall lest disaster strikes
The Sun doesn’t set never sets it’s on the other side
(something none of us really likes)
Lollipops don’t pop no matter how you’ve tried.
The Titans are still pissed over losing the war
(and they are gunning for revenge)
When rain falls its not f'ing tears its more
Pyramids weren’t built by people nor Stonehenge.
Man has designs on woman and it will always be
The rib wants home the home wants another rib
(don’t ask me)
Marriage is indentured servitude for the glib.
While we’re at it love: ill-fated concept for mammals
A tree falls you’re not there it still makes a sound
(quite a shambles)
And yes the egg came before the chicken was around.
This is your mind this is drugs now what to do?
(so many choices so little time)
If she has that look in her eye who is defining you?
And thus endeth this unplanned rhyme.
(click on the pic to buy my poetry book!)
From neglect comes deviation, electrifying radiation, like a leaf in the shadow,
Drying stanza so bore-some, a bit much candidly said,
In the Sun thinly it is spread,
As it comes to - an End.
Unpropitious almost as a son left to die in a wooden casket,
Beating the chest, screaming the pain dumped in the basket
This fight that is looming, so void and gore,
Drained of meaning, young and old, shaken, - I’ve been told.
Hey, loner-donor go seek Freud and subscribe to the membership of bold.
What name, say you?
Look up, zap the depth and any chance,
Given but not forgiven, just sanitised slam dance,
Not tipping the balance,
So settled, decisive and predisposed,
Here comes the pain rolling down the mountains at Pieve di Cadore
You do not know whether to ignore or adore.
I am a natural riparian who likes to fasten poplars on the banks of my heart
My eyesight at breast height gets pulled by gravity – down!
Sipping on a glass of Vitis Viifera while avoiding an overdose
In the eyes of a true ochre sensible enough
To touch the ground or poke her.
Grab the ivory rod that is a relic of lies,
Crafted for the bride who held it dearly
In the arc it traveled back and forth,
North to south, back to north.
Everything crumbled, thorn to pieces,
Gunning down feeling after feeling,
The fight is looming, but I am not kneeling.
second terra,masters of the nether world,
black is their art,as crafty smoke curls
behind a screen,landscaping scenes,amazing,
chemical elements influence our being
projecting images,manipulating thoughts
misguided perceptions easily bought
subliminal messages,chaotic fuel
hatred belies evil despotic rule.
recreant,miscreant,one and the same
lowly existence,there they'll remain
sinking lower to depths,uncaring of deeds
subliminal messages,planting evil seeds
appearances frequent to mislead perceptual
third eye needed to discern the actual
programs running,they're constantly gunning
head shots,heart shots,they've got,cunning
skills diverse,if left open for attack
awareness,understanding,will guard your back
no compromise on the bridge
as you stand on the ridge
spirit within' to keep you on edge
outskirts,outposts,uncharted fields
strength and honor,due time it will yield.
We had a desert mission
Just north of us in Zarghun Shahr
But little did we know that day
We wouldn’t get that far.
We did not doubt the intel
That led us up the road of dust;
an IED exploded,
in up armor we trust.
To check if there were wounded,
The hatch went down and out we went.
The medics tended to the wounds
And I my ammo spent.
I fired on them with fervor
Though til then I’d not shot
a single round in battle;
Sharp shooter I was not.
I focused on the basics:
steady, aim, breath, trigger squeeze;
Before my second shot was fired
I’d brought one to his knees.
A second man was running
but Cam was by my side.
Adept at all things gunning,
He shot, the second died.
How their eyes danced with darkness
and no more saw a beam of light,
Turning us into killers
Baptized in blood and fight.
How their eyes turned to rapture
When they died in the Stan
and darkly dancing, stung me,
those eyes of Taliban.
How their eyes danced with darkness,
the cursed strangers on that day;
for what they’d done, fate would demand
A heavy price to pay.
I lay there, panting heavily,
and Cam gave me high five.
Our training had not failed us,
and we were still alive.
Subdue my senses like serenities face
a heartfelt happy embellished
his canter skilled with heavens grace
a companionship barley unblemished
except that she rides alone
Into the storm gathering speed
she squeezes her knees tipping her heels
gunning for the feeling she longs to be sealed
unleashed like the fury of a thunders peal
Her saddle steals with shift of weight
her balance for the run
like symmetry never expecting to yield
adrenalin hiking the fearful unknowns
There she rides alone
Her life is cinched an aimless roam
her hunger for the feeling of home
with subtle sounds like flexing leather
is the tearing of her heart like the storms she weathers
carried on waves of an emerald trail
turned wheat in Autumns image
Buckskins beat secures her seat
and gives her thoughts to visage
Though there's nowhere in this world she'd rather be
she can't shake the feeling of the missing
destined to wings that fly alone
no companion for her soul in the cheering
This is why she calls him Tuff
Hedeman in a lady she cowgirl's up...
looks her pony in the eyes
reminding her that the tough don't cry
Just take Bodacious by the horns
knowing "impossible" will not hold the throne
always through pain our courage is born
though every eight seconds she rides alone
She'll keep her head up high
never giving in to the pain
lessons she learned from her hero's
Cowboys Tuff and Lane
He never loved me
Well damn I just found out
Took a shot to the heart
Don't know where I should start
I guess I musta been strung out
Cuz I was straight up on his arm flashing that smile like aint no brother like the one I got
Saying girl I'm so lucky
You just jealous
Whatchu mean he's cheating
Ahh shut yo mouth
Making plans, writing poetry, letting his hands be one with me
He was free to play games with me
With my identity
When he was through with me
I barely recognized who she was cuz she was not me
But I was forever high
See I
I planned our wedding in my mind a million times
Yeah I said we'd name our first kid Tasha
Or prolly Sasha
Even after his great grand aunt Hadassah
Kiki or prolly Eloise
He could bend me over
To his whim or his fancy
Deeply committed was I
To this guy
I didn't care about the why
I just cared about his smile
How his face would light up when he saw me
And just how it was all so wild
Mild
was never a part of our loving
heavy from the get nicca always had me coming
To him constantly running to him
Gunning for him
Loving just him
Giving never ex-pec-ting
He didn't love me
See I just found out
One day it came to me when I was walking around the house
It came to me
How I'd put his needs before mine
Put ma money on his hustle
Saying everything would be fine
Cuz I would be-ne-fit
Joint bank accounts
Cleared out savings
Warning signs begged me to put an end to the ish
But I just couldn't quit
I could not forget
He was that 9-5 that I just could not leave
So I worked tirelessly hoping the boss would recognize
My efforts and promote me.
Promote me?
Dumb me
Strung out
Oh boy kinda good turn out
Everyone showed up but sanity
Cuz I musta been crazy to letchu play me
and sway me to your mindset
Wet, my heart with regret
turned me cold a reject
Deject-ted I stayed that way for centuries
Soul moment suffering through comments
Holding on to moments
Dead to emotion to me anomaly
He never loved me
WELLL I JUST FOUND OUT
I was silly blind trying to find
Reasons for his indiscretions
His lack of confession
Why he never let me in
Musta been ma sins
saying be more forgiving.
He never loved me.
heat of the battle
dog fighters command the sky
top gunning air force
© Joseph S. Spence, Sr., (Epulaeryu Master) 1/22/08
All Rights Reserved, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA
Senior Advisor, to Founder of Motivational Strips
Ambassador De Literature
Noble Star of Literature 2018
Living Legend of the 21st Century
Pentasiv B World Friendship Poetry Featured Poet 2019
Comments: I wanted to be an air force fighter pilot when I inquired into joining
ROTC in college. They informed me that I didn't have 20/20 vision at the time and
was not selected. As a result, I switched to Army ROTC and had a wonderful
time with twenty-one years of meritorious service.
The debate between free will and fate has taken a hard right
turn to neuroscience, Brodmann area 4 the primary motor
cortex of the brain located in the posterior frontal lobe
(the one cut out of the one who once flew over the cuckoo's nest).
This area of the cortex has the pattern of an homunculus!
a little man, a troll, the all-wise, mandragon, the golem of Jewish folklore.
This little man has a that, when fully engorged, is
equal in size to his entire body. However, diseases
such as Parkinson's, Alzheimer's, Huntington's, Lou Gehrig's and
Creutzfeldt-Jakob
are gunning for him. His basal ganglia are garbled
and he ends up giving poor advice and making bad decisions.
Who can say what happens to his soul or cells or if all will be given or
well?
I was listening to the famous astronomer on public radio
who expressed the certainty there is no death, your soul
is immortal, it exists outside of time (but not space?). That's because
time exists only in the human mind (as does the universe
including the professional baseball season which is canceled when
you're dead).
By Spring, my problems will be solved or ignored, either way is good.
Groundhog holds the knowledge of death without dying
for man needs help from every creature born.
Will the holocaust wipe the smile off the face of our romantic comedy
or will laughter outlast the outburst?
About the dark times will there be singing?
Yes, there will be singing and some of the songs will be sidesplitting.
Solving the murder reveals the city. Nature of kinships and economic
sustenance,
who loves whom and why, when things happened and how they lost
and found themselves
in what happened. Because a meter-making argument cannot appear
from nothingness, purposelessness, just cold.
He does not go where he was supposed to go. He is in the desert,
Sonoran desert, counting cactus buds and ocotillo blooms.
This is the afterlife for which he has always longed.
John Wayne will be there
and the steaks will be rare,
in Cowboy Heaven;
And the Posse will be – not gunning for me
- in Blue Yonder sky
The saloon’s never dry,
it’s all free - you don’t buy,
in Cowboy Heaven;
Three fingers of rye, no more patch on my eye
- in Blue Yonder Sky
I’ll be riding off into the sunset,
Saddled up on my trusty old steed
But my permanent ‘get out of jail’ card,
guarantees that by dawn I’ll be freed
The Good Sheriff will be
on the lookout for me,
in Cowboy Heaven;
Keeping injuns at bay,
sending snakes the wrong way
- in Blue Yonder sky
My horse just won’t care,
‘cos them spurs won’t be there,
in Cowboy Heaven;
He’ll be swishing his mane
on the tumbleweed plain
- in Blue Yonder Sky
There’ll be pictures of me
nailed on every tree,
in Cowboy Heaven;
But there’ll be no reward ,
cos’ I’m loved by my Lord
- in Blue Yonder Sky
All the good guys in white,
and fightin’ the good fight,
in Cowboy Heaven;
What a place it will be -
and the Whiskey’s on me
- in Blue Yonder Sky
yea tis history - that end gin shelled a mesh by mit Romney wailin
such below figurative belt mortar attack subterfuge and constant railin
per accusations hurled at barack Obama presidential campaign
lobbed like scud missile grenades from invisible hand no longer m palin
in comparison and hence moot point for republicans to gain
so this joe of a voter re-fused 2 bide time 2 prevent candidate from failin
app laud clinched 2nd term deserved and occupy white house seat a gain
intent i wanna talia 2 acknowledge salient tactics to boost usa now ailin
sasha bravado blasting and gunning futile fusillades
which questionable oppositional stealth indiscriminately fired pell mell
to discredit supreme commander in chief an exemplary persona in the main
such desperate toothless and nail biting tactics
replete with political retaliatory slanderous stockpile bombardment
but rather, he opts to build fracking rainbow coal bridges 2 somewhere
over the rainbow toward future with his omnipotent time tested girders
of righteousness and gravitas quite simple and plain
casting confidence that the democrats rank as the robust strongest train
eclipsing her livid burst of 15 minutes fame that briefly wax than wane!
The Mets figured they already had a pitching ace.
They badly needed a competent man to play third base.
A righty and a lefty were considered better than dependable.
The management considered another right-handed pitcher expendable.
The Amazin’ Mets felt they had minor league talent galore.
After the win in ‘69, they were gunning for one more.
For this expendable right-hander, a converted shortstop the Mets would get.
This was a deal the front office and fans would regret.
The outcome of this done deal proved to be a shame.
That expendable right-hander went on to the Hall of Fame.