Our old friend Elmer Fudd
thinks he’s quite a stud
points his gun at Bugs Bunny
‘wascawwy wabbit’ not so funny
Hand gun
Shoot Theory
Bullets aim
Victims with names
Totally lame
Kill instance
Never stand nor rise
Close to the heart and hitting home
Each door becomes harder to roam
Families who mourn
Freedom that’s said, but hard to believe
Pistols and the hands behind
Wonder and yonder of hope
A world on hate that needs to think and cope
Guns are no joke
Lives cut short
When will guns finally end?
It’s up to Washington to respond in gun’s disappear
Living in Gunsmoke
Away with guns and let’s communicate
Families would love to see guns pull back
Let’s us all associate and appreciate
Guns have no place
Senseless murder a waste.
Gun America.
A barrel pointing to self.
Bang! Now we are safe.
If you give an ape a gun
will he know how to use it
Would he throw it like a stone
maybe twirl it around
Could he even load the gun
If he figured out
how to load and shoot
then we'd need to give guns to other apes
to protect themselves
You can't have one ape running amuck
with a gun
then they'd need a bomb
who wants to get close to apes with guns
just hurl that bomb at them
but who wants apes with bombs
just get rid of the apes
that will solve all the problems
dad said buy thick coat
son bought gun so now dad says ~
wear gun and milk cows
In the street people scream and shout then Bang bang a shot rings out
Dead on the ground lies an innocent child
Murdered in a country that's gone wild
Protesters in masks their faces they hide
Shouting about a genocide
They say that the Protest are peaceful and they just scream and shout
So why do they celebrate when the gun shots ring out.
Our government are afraid of these people and let the violence persist
And if we speak out against them we are labelled as racist
We can not fly our flag or they are ripped down and taken away
And arrested for what we write on social media for the things we say
Freedom of speech is not permitted and you cannot pray in your head
But the worst thing is to speak out against
Them you just might end up Dead.
O soil of Gaza, within your belly lie the souls of our children,
Their flesh you consumed without a conscience,
Their blood runs deep into your hidden streams,
Yet you boast of swallowing their tender bones.
You paved a path for their deformed limbs,
Without pity, you grant their innocence a bed.
We weep, yet you pretend our tears are sweat,
While you take joy in burying our children.
The bombs they hurl on your blossoms explode,
Cutting lives short, dismissing our children's future.
You turn their gun-shattered bodies into your fertility,
But of what use, when their limbs lie withered?
O soil of Gaza, vomit out the souls of these children,
—
in innocence they entered your gluttonous belly.
Their days are better above you than within you,
So why did you allow your greed to take them away?
“Gun violence is the price we have to pay to uphold our Second Amendment rights to bear arms”
—Charlie Kirk
his life the price paid
Charlie’s take on mass shootings…
cool down rhetoric
Rooting for zany and cunning Daffy Duck
wrong place wrong time ~ somewhat of a schmuck
at the wrong end of Elmer Fudd’s gun
not much fun to always be on the run
AP: 3rd place 2025
It sounded like gun shots
As if someone is shooting bullets from a car on the road
Pop Pop Pop Pop Pop Pop
My dogs did not respond
But I did
because the hair rose on the back of my neck
And I recognize gunfire
From TV shows
The Gunman
In Montreal, in a bar frequented by shadowy
people who used French phrases, making money
fraud and mayhem, I bought a revolver that still
had five bullets in its chamber
The next morning, our ship was bound for Japan.
I worried about the gun, perhaps used in a heist
where someone got killed, and there was
The Kennedys are still in our memory
Chief, they said, you look absent-minded, what's
Wrong, nothing is wrong. I have a slight cold.
Near the Sea of Japan, I threw the weapon overboard
because I knew if I had a gun when I was growing up
I would, in my anger, have used a gun
I threw the revolver overboard, and an hour later, the
cartridges I didn't want they to meet up
The next day, I was my old self, free of guilt
STAN THE SQUIRREL
In Texas, there lived a squirrel named Stan,
with his six-gun, he defended the land.
He challenged coyotes to duels,
and outsmarted the local old fools,
wielding justice with his special brand.
With a hat made of leather, quite grand,
he scampered and leapt like a cowhand.
He chased off bad guys and crooks,
with his acorn-filled hooks,
outdrawing the best, Stan’s in high demand!
There once was a man who loved guns
With women he hit no home runs
He'd whip out his round
And shoot it outbound
While wishing to target their buns
Corncob lay basking in the sun
Sunbathing and having such fun
But it got so hot
His nib-lets were shot -
Popping off the flies, when done
When under the gun how can one
not be outdone by nepotism
or overcome by favouritism
altho' the norm they're no more
than a form of terrorism
a nebulous opponent none can fight
on the human landscape
naught but a blight
from which we can't escape or run
any self-respecting someone would shun
and as for me you see
I was obviously yet definitely
born in the wrong place
at the wrong time with the wrong face
seeing promotion from outside in the cold
not a foot could I put over the threshold
what with doors slammed progress jammed
out of my depth in over my head
can't get a look-in may as well be dead
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