Best Projectile Poems
I love Guns
Guns make us safe
Guns are rights and freedoms
The more guns, the more freedoms we shall bear
Every man woman and child should be armed
So that we are all safe
All schools should be armed
Teachers, Principals, Janitors, arm them all
The finally we can relax
in total safety
knowing we are all armed
I say give arms to the amputees too
Gun control is socialist and fascist
We registers cars
Houses
Pets
Bikes
We have banned toys
We regulate all kinds of things
Yet we are free
Totally free
Because we all have our right
To bare arms
Ask Kim Campbell! she agrees!!!
Not only guns
They must be automatics
The more bullets you can empty out of a gun
the better
the more freedom you shall feel
Its called projectile dysfunction
And......... any man with a high IQ
Need's an assault rifle
Why of course to outsmart those ducks and turkeys
I firmly believe in a fair fight
Assault rifles to catch a duck
common sense to me
Quack quack
Guns have rights
Own a gun you have double rights
They are made to kill kill kill
Did I say they KILL?
Nothing more, nothing less
I need that right
Any child killed by a Gun
is only because we haven't enough guns
By the way
Children have no rights
Kill em all for all I care
as long as I have my rights
I am not concerned with facts
Evidence
Or the humanity of it
Is all about my Guns
Why
Cause I love Guns
More than humans
And thats my right
No matter how wrong it is
C’est la vie, Billy!
His cheeks a deep scarlet,
His jaw tightened in an eerie grin,
He stands, rooted to the spot
While the snot in his nose
Like a long gooey
Streak of
Chewing-gum
Slowly comes dripping
Onto his dappled T-shirt,
and his eyes, like dazzling agates,
Fixedly follow the interminable course of
The red rubbery ball
As the projectile
In a deafening clash,
Smashes the headmaster’s office window.
His hand is strafing the castellation on his trumpet, the valves moving up down up down like deranged pistons under the random machine gun fire of his fingers. Each note is a projectile that concusses the air, chases the one before it, nudges it from behind, bleeds into it, and is itself tailgated by the next one, all the way down the line in unrelenting succession, until all the distinct notes fuse, compacted into a single, furious, careening soundscape that leaves the ear always half a beat behind, struggling to catch up, out of breath, high on an overdose of heard adrenalin.
sounds supersonic
air graffitied with contrails of soaring notes
solo flight
Still they come, the notes, jostling and pouring from the bell of the trumpet glinting in the small cone of spotlight, the man’s puffed cheeks like a magician’s hat from which all kinds of disparate, crazy things - playing cards, rabbits, ribbons, doves - appear and instantly cohere into a hyperventilating sonic dream. You’re caught off guard by every note: you never heard it coming, then you hear it, and you’re snatched by it and all its brethren, and carried into the kinetic night.
ears beguiled
vibrations collide, collude, segue
harmony
On The Prairie
Congregated on the prairie western clear with beasts
Cowboy chews tobacco, swirls black liquid, spits
Projectile clean, target hit, lizard quick
Long tongued creature stunned
No time to snatch a timid bug
So much hungry love undone
Reptile rolls over rounded rock pin ball like
Looks both ways before crossing into dark
Cowpoke silhouetted, floated on campfire
Smiles Clint Eastwood style
Slips a small stogie through cracked dry lips
Moves it from left to right
Lights it, inhales harsh life
Jagged teeth, yellow, tinted by time
Clinched while he thinks about old wars
A warrior down to the core
Grins at the beans bubbling up
Old iron skillet and the western sky
Gazes at the long lost stars through smoke
Shakes sand off hat and boots when done
Speaks not a single word
But with a sigh he rises and rides off
Your projectile language,
Has shattered my porcelain soul.
The ballistics of your words,
Trace back to your beautiful performance.
An arsenal of lethal…language,
Spoken from the chamber of your heart.
Targeting my virgin emotions,
…Piercing my self-esteem,
……Ricocheting your madness in my life.
“I love you”…dissipates in your smoke of lies.
I can still taste the gunpowder residue,
Off the barrel of your moist perpetrating lips.
The evidence still remains at the scene of the crime.
Stained sheets keep…dirty hotel secrets,
My wounded spirit collapsed to the floor of my body,
As the echoes linger within my shattered soul.
They decry their gun birthright
is to defend their home,
protect what they own
A government tank might come rolling
down the road one day
New Roman centurions coming to take
their beloved metal sons away
Give unto Caesar the lobby coins,
and he will let you keep your guns
Ask for the AR-15 exemption too ...
get a death certificate of ownership for you
Have in your treasured collection,
the most coveted item
that can blow dreams away
Possess the wizard of war wand ...
keep it on concealed Oz display
What lies behind the magazine veil
will blow your citizen reticence away
AR-15 lying wonder:
Killing machine putting souls
six-feet under
It’s your American gun birthright
to have death by metal proxy
at your trigger side
Bumstocks and sawed-off barrels,
high-velocity bullets: metal projectile arrows
Second Amendment voice tools,
get pleasure in bringing the pain,
speaking with First Amendment lead liberty
Shoot first and ask questions later ...
The law of trigger-nometry rules:
the barrel with the loudest bang,
has the highest caliber free speech authority
Gun birthright zealous voices
speaking with hot impassioned impunity
Shoot first and ask questions later ...
AR-15 making serial killing noises,
silencing crowds with political immunity,
automatically blowing dreams away
Talk to the trigger hand they say: Shoot first,
and ask questions later on another day
Written: February 16, 2024
"Be not careless in deeds, nor confused in words, nor rambling in thought".
Quote by Marcus Aurelius
_______________________________________
We remain drawn to places we recognize well.
A mirage of lovely sights where dreams swell.
Rumbling rain clouds—odd swirls—rise at the pond.
Whirling thrill, an ecstatic genesis, swirling beyond.
Standing face to face, level with the moon.
Do poets and stargazers witness novel swoons?
In fierce verdict, the moon has closed its eyes.
If the sun stops beaming, how will moonlight arise?
The clouds cover the stars, and ideas sparkle.
Moon may decode terms by light dots in partial
You may be a flame or a mirror; both emit light.
Yet a flame must endure, rambling as glass blight.
Never shall the sun set, nor the moon rise.
Now it's time to detect without any prize.
Return the favor to those who wronged me.
Pursuing revenge, this tale is timeless history.
There is an outcome to every deed.
We are bound by Newton's laws of flow heed.
Entrails broken down resolve the algorithm.
Gaze upon your rambling in the same rhythm.
Sample my gilded projectile—hear the blast.
That inspires fear and mystery—peace is the cast.
Witness the radiant beams piercing overnight.
That stumbles in the blink—of an eyesight.
They draw to ramble in the void space.
With shades of deep, melancholic grace.
Antagonism elicits rambling to grow and thrill.
A mute bird flies and glides in their quill.
There are too many people walking around every single day
And if you ask them who they are most don't know what to say
You need to know who you are and how you came to be
And if you are a child of God you are royalty
We are all descendants of the most high God
children of the King
But if you don't have a relationship with Him
That concept doesn't mean a thing
But God says we're all royalty so we need to comprehend
That it's not our culture, it's not our race it's being creations of Him
Now the enemy is on the prowl working day and night
Trying to deter our youth from acknowledging God's light
Too much social media with Twitter, Facebook and Skype
So caught up in their Cel phones and every technological hype
But God looks at our hearts, He discerns what's inside
He's not concerned about hair color, tattoos or exposed backsides
God says we're royalty, He says we're His chosen offspring
And He called a young David to come forth and do a new thing
Now David was not a fighter he was a tender of sheep
But God can flip the script and with faith make you take the leap
God can use anyone when it comes to accomplishing His goals
He can call on the most unlikely person
and infuse him with power and control
God says we're royalty with power, majesty and might
He will bless and anoint us with grace, mercy and light
God says we're royalty and when He calls us to serve
Don't second guess His actions this appointment you deserve
To be a vessel that God will use, a means to an anointed end
To change the course of history to benefit all men
Now David was to battle but not King Saul's way
David had a god-given talent to be put on display
David was a projectile warrior a master of the slingshot
So he picked up 5 smooth stones and proceeded towards his lot
Only one stone was needed to take Golieth down
It hit that giant in the forehead
and immediately knocked him to the ground
David's actions changed the course of history
It also came to affect his entire family
Eventually David became a king
and because of his faith and behavior
His descendants became the line that produced
Jesus the Christ Our Savior
And like David I know who I am
And from Whom I came to be
And like David I'm a child of God
And God says I'm royalty
~A Place called The Edge~
We kept our heads up high, at the boundary of the universe
We Gave no thought, closing every feeling in a wooden box
Remaining firm on two principles, practice, and good will
Letting go-
-With the idea of free falling
-I traveled with the current of air
I broke into the mindset of your whispers...
Watching over the glow, in your eyes...
With disrupted ways you reform issues,
Becoming objective, in ways I need to follow
Life and its vanity are so unfair, A goddess re-birth
Through the needle eyes of mother earth
Within the flames, one rises to the edge of games
The phoenix call, withheld wisdom that we can't feel at all
As it cascaded into dreams we recognized
A place to visit,
When in distress, stepping on my own shoe
I walk the distance, falling into a stream of romance
A projectile performance, in an exotic trance
A new psychological pat was formed
Firm and fair, A monarch standing in my way
Beneath the fall, above the ledge,
The clouds swallow, every shadow left
Shattering every crimson sea,
Flying high with eternalness by my side
My sleepless days are aimless and carried out
Covered in ashes, with the vividness of the ocean.
Holding hands, at the edge of everything
Dangling by, as if we had a split personality
Standing on the edge, we count our steps
As we pace backwards, to relive a life without strife
I've been there, I am there!
Living on the edge of everything
:)
Never stand behind a hippo!
Never stand behind a hippo!
Never stand behind a hippo!
Projectile diarrhea!
Delicately crafted Indian arrowheads,
razor-sharp flint projectile points,
primitive stone bullets,
hidden artifacts from long ago.
Eventually, they call out to our curiosity
on hot and steamy summer mornings,
inviting us to freshly plowed cornfields,
where they’ve patiently slept for millennia.
You know they’re out there,
hoping to remain buried secrets, yet
wishing to be found, revered, and held excitedly
in eager young boys’ sweaty palms.
We hunted them as faithfully as
the ancient “arrowhead” men,
who hunted prey with bows and spears
in long forgotten grasslands and forests.
Something powerful awakens inside you
in realizing you are the first person
to hold this cool, jagged-edged stone tool
since it was created 2,000 years ago.
Suddenly, you become aware that
nothing is really lost in our vast universe–
It is simply waiting for an inquisitive hand
to reach into the dark earth and bring it back to life.
A self-assured progressive projectile
Locked on its target like a heat seeking missile
Confident, a smile all the while
Marvellous like a polished marble tile
Strong, but fragile
An ambiguous profile
To remain unresolved, a mystery file
Trendy, always in style
Smooth like a silky textile
A lioness on the prowl
Hear her roar, fear her growl
The feminization of a species
A natural selection of beauties
A temper so feline
A manner so divine
An awesome design
A perfect being born to reign
A mind map that he can neither navigate nor define
A mosaic that only He can refine
Provoked, her stride is heavy
It is a charge to envy
Her walk is easy
It can mislead as lazy
It is a march through boundaries and norms
A journey of a million no’s and no yes’s
An irrational continuation to an unknown destination
A premonition to know, to sacrifice for the unborn generation
A hope that peace will come no matter how dark the skies
The intuition to continue to love when hate fills the air with cries
An incessant knock on that closed door
The insatiable hunger to always wanting to know
A road laden with thorns and paved with broken glass
A never ending test in an unassailable class
At times, it is a burdened conquest
A seemingly impossible quest
At the end of which the rewards are already taken
A rigged race, the winner already chosen
The credit to someone less deserving
Her pain from a tradition undiscerning
But she’s unstoppable like a silver bullet
Hitting with penetrating impact
Her dreams riding on the tail of a comet
Untouchable like a rocket to a far away planet
Decorated, an achievement in perseverance
An acknowledgement of her undeniable presence
The order of a female monarchy
Female atop the hierarchy
A proven recipe
His failed conspiracy
A lizard snuck into the house,
So I called out loud to my spouse:
"Come get this green reptile
before the cat goes projectile."
Thank goodness it wasn't a mouse.
Base Ball
Give me basically any ball and I love it
Hate to say it is Rugby this side of the
Ocean that divides but we are joined by
the language though we call it ‘Rounders’
Round ball and here it is the oval crick and crack where
talent meets and bats propel with sonar
speed and sweet delight when cheering leaders
sport their curves and acrobatic tantra
For uninitiated and confused spectators
a leather bullet approaches with all its might
some poor guy or gal not allowed to duck
or dive but brace it with just a wooden stick
Projectile forces redirected emphasize the
need to run around in squares of enchantment
with crowds jumping up and down hand to
heart in orchestrated anthems of support
When all the running hitting throwing stops
and all the adverts are digested the better
side has won but everyone should receive
a shiny medal for taking part in unison
Innings and outings have a greater meaning
though once philistines have counted all
their blessings and aggression has abated
it’s just a game and warfare was transcribed
When followers of baseball passion leave the
stadium and paraphernalia crown the streets
good shots and hitmen women of gymnastic pride
agree that ball and basic instincts kept the Peace
Embedded in national culture heritage and thrill
the soft sporty cushion of engagement bereft of
disproportional lateral harm and collateral damage
has shown the world for once a peaceful resolution
11th February 2017
Anna fell in love with a Pterodactyl
They pecked and petted in a reflex tactile
She laid a big egg
In my duffel bag
And I found my grandson in a projectile