Best Shoot Down Poems
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What kids are watching on telly
are crimes and crimes in all variety!
Crimes of hate
crimes of passion
acting it out at shocking rate
thinking in some wild fashion
then ending up cell mates!
When kids watch their movie heroes
shoot down people with the gun
they are incited to do the same
to achieve some thrill and fun.
When they see their very film star
slash someone's throat in a fit of anger
they think well of crimes of rage
and plunge everybody else into danger.
The tendency to portray the violent scene
luridly and shockingly on the Big Screen
Ah even for the small screen, tis the gory
that makes for the dark and thrilling story.
Now that technology's long opened this pandora's box
the dispersal of amplified social ills ain't no hoax
The rowdy hoodlums and reckless gangsters
are simply by-products of Tv influences
The world watches the thriving of the bully-boy pranksters
passively in helpless terror of their offences.
It's all portrayal of the vulgar, the obscene
by that devious Silver Screen
And the horror movie
though it may seem groovy
begets the horrendous
and drills evil thoughts subliminally
into the subconscious!
It's an unrestrained dark faking
of real life reality exaggerating
Whether it's Bollywood in the East
or it's Hollywood in the West
they don't merely impart tactics of defence
but rather those of aggressive offence
Viewing those gruesome swashbuckling films
gives rise to morbid sadistic whims
Flipping through the TV channels
just ponder if the telly's the perfect channel
of information is it a proper panel?
Dad always tells me, 'fear ye the roaches' flicking antennae?
While you oughtta fear the influence
of 'em' flickering images by dish antennae'.
Then a mere single merit that I dug
as I drank cappucino in my mug
that atleast one couldn't live in a bubble
daily watching the bubblebug.
Ah but then tougher gun laws couldn't halt
even underage shooting sprees
Rather it's stringent scanning of Tv content
that might make it all cease
Parental supervision too tis gravely essential
Should've been of parental code quintessential
So the next time you catch your teen
absorbed and engrossed while glued to the screen
Just sleuth a bit just to make sure
that for the x-rated he's not too keen!
World War I gave us the fly-boys
Who flew by the seat of their pants.
Many would never return from war
While others survived by chance.
Their planes were mostly canvas and wood
Gasoline, bullets, bombs and poison gas.
Every pilot carried his own pistol
Wearing leathers, scarf and goggles of glass.
Aviators had no Parachutes
To escape their burning plane.
Many were forced to jump to their death
Or self inflect a bullet to the brain.
Blimps where known as battleships of the sky
The roar of their engines gave reason for fear.
They flew so high they were hard to shoot down
Hiding above clouds till their targets drew near.
Tracer bullets for the first time were used
In the guns of airplanes to set blimps a fire.
The skies became man’s highway of death
With duty and honor their driving desire.
How many Fly-boys have we lost since then
Those days of the Great War and more?
Where do we get such brave souls of chance
Who rise from the rest in the battles of war?
By Tom Zart
I will shoot down the stars,
Watch their blood spill across plains,
Choking and gasping for their last breath,
Before their glow fades away,
Into the darkness of my mistakes.
There will be no more lights,
Guiding the lost back home;
There will be no more wishes,
Wished upon the unlit sky.
For what once represented hope,
So sacred for the desperate,
So wistful for the naive,
Is gone forever, never to return.
People will now hold on to pictures,
Captured of their night glory,
Sinking into fearful reminiscence,
Knowing that when night comes,
They only have the Moon
To cherish.
But I will shoot it down too,
Watch its blood spill across plains,
Choking and gasping for its last breathe.
I bet heaven is so beautiful,
It has to be glorious and bright.
Imagine, angels singing lovely songs
They sing to Jesus who sitting on His throne.
No light switches or lamps needed there,
For Jesus is the light all over up there,
No way can one of us imagine how wonderful
that could possibly be the light shinning bright.
Shoot down here on earth should be gloomy or sad?
With all the pain, heartaches and death we endure.
Should we act as though this is all we have?
No way go ahead live life to it's fullest before it's to late.
Life is to short and goes by way to quick to fight over
small things on this big old earth, take a breath and
remember life is what we make it and before we get to go
to Heaven live it a minute is a moment but eternity is forever.
A Games Maker at London’s Paralympics 2012,
Stephanie used to be a competitor able-bodied,
In the Great Britain team, mind on the Olympics,
Even tho’ since 11 her eyes were bad, crummier.
One day when she was training in a 50m sprint,
She felt a sharp, sudden pain shoot down her arm,
Which she just ignored, but it soon re-emerged,
Such that today she’s possesses nerve damage.
She’s a para-swimmer and competes in contests,
With other disabled sportsmen and sportswomen,
Her first competition as such was in Sheffield city,
2013, the British International Swimming Champs.
So at the Commonwealth Games held in Glasgow,
2014, Stephanie won a silver for the 100m freestyle,
And then in Eindhoven which is in the Netherlands,
7 golds: 1 for back, 1 fly, 3 free, 1 relay, 2 medley.
In Funchal which is on Madeira, Portugal, in 2016,
On this approach to Rio Stephanie won 2 golds,
At the European Championships highly spirited,
1 for the 50m freestyle and 1 for the 100m butterfly.
In Rio Stephanie won the silver in 1 min 10.32 secs,
And sealed gold along with her familiar colleagues,
In the 4x100m medley relay 34pts. From Preston,
She practices in their Club, born 7th February 1991.
Cowards, not terrorists, Call them what they are
Not Martyrs, killers of babies, children both near and far
Cowards, not terrorists, Call them what they are
How much courage does it take to mow down people with cars and trucks
How much courage does it take to be armed with all kinds of ammunition
like a sniper and shoot down cops like sitting ducks
How much courage does it take to shoot unsuspecting people in a show or school
To kill and brutalize with a heart of hate
To fly into buildings, blow up people having fun running in races is beyond cruel
Oh you say, it is for what I believe in, I have courage to take my own life
Or they deserve it, they hurt me, I am angry
They will pay with a gun, bomb, or knife
Cowards that is what terrorists are
Even an old woman could drive a truck through a crowd of people, shoot cops
Plant bombs in crowds and kill people near and far
Some say, my God wants to rid the world of infidels and heathens, then what is left
What is left? People like you who kill children who don't understand
Don't even know their place in the world yet
Cowards, not terrorists, not Martyrs
Cowards willing to kill babies, children, mothers and fathers
Cowards let us call them what they are
Cowards
Yes, it's about time someone sets this Worldly 'RECORD' straight...
you have risen to our 'Bad Boy List' done things to control others,
we're watching you on TV - Bad Boy 'Russia' a day will come I can't wait
Bad Boy 'China' yes, we made you a superpower, thinking you can get away
with anything, not to realize someday you have to answer to God & USA...
you're proud to make a 'Monkey' of us all, then you can go into space today...
bad boy 'Korea' "Rocket Man" are you for real; Your like a fly in this ointment
of life, trying to bully other countries, for what no-good reasons anyway...
with rockets you spend assets, instead of providing a quality of life not torment
do you bad boys think this world will continue to turn a cheek are weak, or sick
on our record we have space, have 'WON' that race for this entire human race...
our satellite's,'L' Gattlin G technology with 'LAZERS' can shoot down yours quick
I was burned by my burrito
Just a simple snack for me yo
I was burned by my burrito, my burrito
My hunger pangs were panging
My tummy it was aching
I figured a quick snack
Would end my crave attack
I was burned by my burrito
Just a simple snack for me yo
I was burned by my burrito, my burrito
I found the coolest snack with meat
A simple twisted treat
A 60 second nuke away
From a happy snacking craze
I was burned by my burrito
Just a simple snack for me yo
I was burned by my burrito, my burrito
As soon as the ding went off
I grabbed it up so fast
I didn’t let it cool a minute to keep my hand from harm
To make it worse I also felt the red hot sauce and pain shoot down my arm
I was burned by my burrito
Just a simple snack for me yo
No it wasn’t a mosquito
I was burned by my burrito, my burrito
Oh that hurts *
Ow ow girl, what’s wrong with you girl *
(Shake your head)
And all I wanted was a simple tasty treat*
*these lines are spoken and not sung
So innocent looking,
I wear your heart
On my bracies.
For the town to see and to know,
You could have been mine,
If I wanted.
You could have been here.
If it wasn't for the best,
Then why did you go?
I need to know.
I had a crush on you,
But I couldn't let you know.
I wouldn't have it spoil my plans.
But now, I'd give it all away,
Just to have you stay.
If you'd promise..
Promise me, promise me,
Promise me this:
Trust and loyalty,
Secret virginity.
A sea full of anythings,
All for protecting me.
Shoot down our enemies.
Holding out for specialities.
Spoiling for uncertainties.
Love for eternity.
Free me,
Free me.
~Written in 2005 (Monday, 31st, January) when I was sixteen.
Form:
A long time passes and I am still here
Silently insulting, brutally weeping
But then I lift my head from the ground
To see him standing there
Towering over me in all endeavor of quietude
Was he there the entire time?
I feel his eyes but see only his stare
I am dreaming again
Has he returned to guide me?
To frighten me back into reality?
Who are you, entity of fear?
I know death draws me near—
But why, oh mystery, do you linger here?
He never answers me, though still I try
Why are you here?
Must you hate me too?
He pulls me up staring me down
His thin, sophisticated form makes me feel hollow
Empty features burning my vision
As he bends facing me
I never want to see your face again
See, that’s why I hide. . .
Why, I ask, my voice croaking
Tell me why. . .
He takes my hand as I cringe
Walking me to the edge, his head tilted my way
I shake like a dried leaf on the brink of autumn
A small, pathetic part of me wants to thank him
To believe all of this. . .is right
How though, can I trust his blank sincerity?
I am the only. . .the lonely
But there he is beside me
His long fingers intermingling in mine
The sense of fear and confusion
Sticking to me like grime
I am the Slender Man—I am—your friend
And for once I let him embrace me
I cannot bear to flee
He tenses and tightens his grip
Dreading I may slip away in panic
Please stay. . .please stay
Soon it will all just go away. . .
He is warm against me—alive
Breathing slowly, I feel the beating of his heart
Bashing my nerves—blurring my mind
Tingles shoot down my spine
As I stand there, so close to him
We watch a sagging sunset
As tears flow down my infected eyes
I have learned to fly. . .to embrace the lies
Squeezing my hand he holds me close
As the black sun wearily lifts its head one last time
Only to sink from its post
I never want to see your face again
See, that’s why I lie
Slender Man cradles me in his tendrils
Surrounding me like I am its sickly nourishment
Whispering comforting falsehood
I gaze beyond the wasteland
Beyond myself. . .
But there I find nothing
Hand in hand we walk over the edge
Heading yonder into the sheer, sweet
Nothingness
The demons watch us disappear
Grinning from ear to ear
I cannot see them now. . .
But I can smell their fear
-January 26, 2013-
hi its james christian this is my acount they shoot down my other one
Form:
The face who has no place for worry,
And fear had he ignored.
Such a soldier deserves nothing,
But a Gallantry Award.
This award is for them who,
For their country, let their lives flow.
And look at death face-to-face,
And conquered it with a single blow.
This is the story of a soldier D.P. Singh,
Devendra Singh by name;
He put his life to stake for his country,
And brought with him lots of fame!
He worked in the 55th Batallion,
Rashtriya Rifles, Armoured Corps,
And the mission is what I talk about
Through this poem's course.
The date was 29 January
And the situation was dire;
A few terrorists, in a building,
With guns and heavy fire.
Devendra stood as still as he could
Hiding from the shower that surrounds,
He crawled under the bullets, and stayed
Aiming at the target house.
Flung from there one terrorist
Dropping bombs all around the space,
Singh took him out with a single shot,
Before quickly changing his place.
The latter tried to flee,
And he aimed at the running few.
He managed to shoot down a second one,
And was applauded by the crew.
This was the story of the steel-nerved man,
Who opposed some bombs and heavy fire;
Who did the impossible, single-handedly,
And made a situation merry, from what earlier was dire.
He was the one worthy enough,
And with everyone's accord;
That he, too now deserved nothing
But that Gallantry Award.
It was quite a surprise to us
when monsters came out of the night,
the beasts and bad guys of legends
who for so long gave us a fright.
We thought they lived on movie screens,
pulpy books, and local folklore,
until they came to prey on us,
and we all learned that they were much more.
The panic, at first, was intense,
folks were dying, it seemed surreal,
vampires, zombies, werewolves, ghosts,
and other such beasties were real.
They were as bad as legend said,
but we soon figured out one truth,
the ways to kill them in legend
really worked—we knew what to do.
The werewolves were the easiest,
you just bought some silver-tip rounds,
given all this country’s hunters
it took two years to gun them down.
As for ghosts, if you do not know,
ectoplasm is diffuse matter,
floating in air, it is easy prey
for the common vacuum cleaner.
Then dump it into a furnace,
and watch the ghostie burn away,
old houses everywhere were safe,
no more hauntings came into play.
Vampires could blend in the best,
of the monsters they killed the most,
UV flashlights or smeared garlic
was all it took to make them toast.
The zombies, good lord, they were slow,
and not all that hard to destroy,
army snipers would take head shots,
and attack choppers were deployed.
They’d shoot down with their miniguns,
guaranteed they’d catch zombie head,
since the undead liked to cluster,
an easy target for sprayed lead.
We even had a kaiju-type
dragged its lumbering form onshore,
just as big as a skyscraper,
a three-hundred foot carnivore.
We fired antiship missiles,
half-dozen of them did the trick,
set up some coastal air patrols
to take care of the beasts right quick.
In retrospect, it all makes sense,
after all, we are humankind,
we’ve been waring since we could walk,
countless weapons came from our mind.
We’ve killed sabertooths and smallpox,
run down real threats without pity,
killed tens of thousands in battle,
even nuked two of our cities.
What’s a werewolf compared to that?
What threat’s a vampire these days?
Those beasts should be afraid of us,
since we always find ways to slay.
Maybe we need better monsters,
a challenge for our evolved state,
something that can inspire fear,
the kind we can appreciate—
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Frustration
By
Lionel Derbyshire
Convinced this is the poem
I dont want found
When a had been life
Is like a selection
Of random carrion.
At first by birth
I heard echo's
Of sweet expectations
A rose grows everyday
Impatience can make it unwilling
And frustration discolours the tone
When hope cheats .. it creates a fuse
But oceans always remain the same
And I fuss when I should be eager
My soul calls for determination
I say life lie's under oath
Yet it formed another blue sky
Let me shoot down the damm moon
And away with the sweet tune of the bird
I am offended and caged
When in my convenience
I blame everything ..
Frustration..
You are a boo.
I can't change the weather
Even if I wanted too.
Underneath the starlit night I journey on this desert plain
with each step the sand gets deeper, longer, and sharper—
The Pain.
This land continuously brakes possibly to the point its beyond repair
it even changes to a beach with an ocean more salt than water—
The Despair.
But as I walk I look up at the millions of bright stars and stare
hoping at some point one will grace me and shoot down my way—
The Prayer.
That’ll burn happiness into my life revealing with a warm flame
angelic eyes, radiant hair, and gleaming smile but not what I desire—
Your Name.
Form: