RITTENHOUSE NO HARM
HE CAME IN WITH A FIREARM
PRETTI BOUGHT THE FARM
Had a look at Wayne Glew, having a go.'
Has enforcement experience and some
Clues.' Seems confused about Porepunkah.' Then i am too.' A shotgun
Is not a precesision firearm.' A strange
Stew, two men down no ballistics statistics spoken..Which shoud be simply reported to my notion.? Brian Naylor a real
News anchor 'would had basic info to share with the state and Nation.' Another
Officer first reported shot in the leg.' Now
It is the shoulder..Which is closer to the head.' Now some bait is lured, 'up to a mill ?' They've said.' Sort of like having a price on his head..Meanwhile a crime wave is hitting Melbourne town, shops robbed three to four times in twelve hours.' Stressfull to the mind.' I see the strain on
My people, niw don't think on this I'm going
To be fine!!!
Sleepless nights keep piling up.
Always in a foul mood,
I poison myself with nicotine, caffeine, ethanol, and cannabinoids.
I live like a hedonist with suicidal urges.
I won’t bequeath my body to science.
The wreck will be too battered by my twilight.
One life, one ride—no concessions, no compromise.
I'm on alert, constantly in crisis mode.
I sleep with the windows open, like every criminal does,
A machete under the bed, a firearm beneath the pillow.
I will never trust the human species.
I've been repeating this deadly routine since I became a man.
Its consequences will deliver me into the devil’s arms.
I wasn't born to be anyone’s mop on this Earth.
I automatically break the law when my interests are threatened.
I unwind at the shooting range, my brain scented with cannabis.
I'm a paranoid forced to sleep with one eye open.
I don’t believe in love—only in the freedom money buys.
Forever alone, I blend into crowds only when it's time to grab without counting.
I came to make my name immortal.
(In memory of the 19 children and two adults killed by gun violence in Uvalde, Texas on May 24, 2022…as well as the countless others who have and who will suffer similar fates.)
Firearm Requiem
By Mark Stucky
In the U.S., guns outnumber people
and sales outpace population growth.
Guns under beds.
Guns in closets.
Guns in cars.
Guns in trucks.
Guns in purses.
Guns in holsters.
Guns in forests.
Guns in offices.
Guns in classrooms.
Guns here.
Guns there.
Guns everywhere.
Guns pointing at them.
Guns pointing at me.
Guns pointing at you.
Why let so many fingers on so many triggers?
Why protect guns more than lives of children?
Why choose gun wrongs over gun laws?
Why is America the monarch of mass shootings?
Did gun rights come from Mt. Sinai,
written by God’s own fingers?
Did (not) guns (once again)
make America great(ly pained)?
When will we as a nation
collectively have courage
to save generational blood
and beat guns into plowshares?
(First published in Agape Review, 15 June 2022. See also my poems “Hate Vacuuming” and “Weapons of Wonder.”)
1.Titanium is effective in stopping modern firearm rounds.
2.Titanium deforms under the stresses from the bullet's energy.
3.It depends on metal hardness and the velocity of the bullet.
4.The US military uses it's own heat-treated grades of Titanium.
5.Titanium helmets provide effective protection against bullets.
Note.Titanium and carbon fiber are good bullet resistant materials.
A sexy high-powered firearm
Assault rifle—an owners charm
By banning this thrill
It'd stop a fun kill
But other guns still can do harm
Author's note: I've met several people who own these weapons and love shooting them. Would they be willing to give up this privilege (and restrict their shooting to standard street guns) in order to make the rest of us and our schools a bit safer? I get that it would constitute a huge sacrifice on their part. OMG—the horror!
Today is the day
So be happy and gay
It’s the springtime, so play
And appreciate May
What’s that you say?
You need some more pay?
Well, I’d love to stay
But I’m allergic to hay
Way out on the farm
We’re taught by a marm
She uses her arm
To cause us alarm
Now she means us no harm
But when she turns off her charm
It’s enough to disarm
This young firearm
When I shoot from the hip
And I give lots of lip
I think I’m a trip
But let me give you a tip
This poem is nonsense
Scenario of Stressful life situational defamation of one's character, Car accidents
beyond one's control consecutively, unbalanced mind. Defilement and forcible
violation of one's body and soul, A firearm aimed toward one's head to inflict fear, explosive force against one's will.
Following homelessness, defamation of one's
character, loss of generations from Grandma,
coming after Father oncoming now Mother
loss of sentimental heartstrings shattered. No
one to have a heart to heart, to counsel, to ease one's anxieties, who to trust and one's likelihood. Mental illnesses you had a tight grip on one's powers of thoughts, as a result bad choices were made.
Ruskie the racoon
Saw the moon
Started to cry
Knowing the critter had to try
Defending some one's lie
From stars it did shine
Onto the untankful line
A planet in the night
Trying to be bright
Giving off enough light
Wearing a bandit mask
Ruskie was giving a violent task
Invading a home
To see if anyone was alone
Opening the door
Ruskie crept on the floor
Ready to declare it clear
Nothing to fear
Until a small image did appear
Coming up from Ruskie’s rear
Holding a silver firearm
Used on the cattle back at the barn
With survival in the eye
A child had the decision 'if Ruskie was going to die?'
There was a pleaded request
Before sending Ruskie to a place to rest
“Ruskie please stop
Or I will pull this trigger making a sound that will go pop pop
And if this does happen
In your pants you will do some crappin”
Pushing cascades crest bastion, stomach lost
Largesse spread wafts orange blossom bridal
Bestows clouds let go to marshmallow moss
Fearless flight crinoline crash vertical
In gospel gothic deep chasm, drunk mink swims
Stirring fate, bleeding tea leaves bewilder
Leather gil quiver, loaded to the brim
Goddess mink Milda, silk coat cylinder
Poison spore auburn myrrh lassoo arrows
Immune audine preened, unwitting Otto
Seduced by sadist, dart sought embargo
Incapacitated poderoso
Discharged firearm, struck futile, fratenised
Love liege embalms gun powder, satisfied
Ninth February
Hijacked by
Milda Audine
musket
predecessor to the rifle
named for mousquette or sparrow hawk
smoothbore long-barreled firearm
cumbersome, heavy to lift
musket
used by infantrymen
during the War Between the States
Sometimes referred to as the Civil War
Or Sherman and Lee's war
musket
heavy to lift,
large-caliber, clumsy,
muzzle loading
shoulder gun
musket
The wily fox found a gun,
Laying on the ground.
The curious fox picked it up,
Not realising what he had found.
He fiddled with the firearm
And came across the trigger,
He cocked the gun, and it went oiff,
Which made the old fox s.
Then suddenly, out of the bush,
A poacher popped his head.
This wily old fox was quick,
And shot the poacher dead.
She was a cold piece of Work
Smooth as steel
Long slender figure
And a look that could kill
She was all real
American Made
Her type was well liked
Even in the western days
She'll make you feel safe
And tell you it's Ok
She's rarely alone
And hates being at home
She moves sexy & slow
And one by one
She involves them
Then revolves them,
& throws them away
When she's done.
Serious outcomes and rude terms correlated to gun
Threats of violence and death, as well as viciousness
Obviously, there would be thousands of gun battles
People have died with proper firearms, but how many?
Guns cannot be self-loaded, nor can they be self-fired.
Utilization of weapons should be restricted to self-defense.
Number of guns is greater than the population.
Removing weapons is preferable to erase the human race.
Imagine there is no evil firearm; will humans be gracious?
Shooting is still active thus, and mass murders persist.
Kindness Is it unjust to wish for a life free of gun violence?
Written April 23, 2021
For GUNS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
He enters a home, while they sleep tonight
Staking out rooms, not touching the lights
The scent of essence, heightens attraction
His insatiable instinct, demands satisfaction
Safely in bed, firearm tucked between pillows
Undeterred, He senses a breath as it billows
Wait distraction, another choice has arisen
Spoilt rotten tonight, on his insidious mission
Sweeter attraction, something else is in bed
Perspiration of fornication, on a lovers head
Cannot control incredible urge, now he strikes
Into bare flesh, sinking a proboscis like knife
That’s it yes, over and over, keeps stabbing
Finally a blood vessel pulses, calms attacking
Oh the bliss, that’s found in orgies of gore,
Just then a slap, damn mosquito’s no more.
Podium placing promise(6) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand 11/01/2021
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