Guns Poems - Poems about Guns

Guns

bang
the gun 
it was fired
by accident
it doesn’t matter
the poor rabbit is dead
people need to be careful
if you are going to own a gun
the first thing to learn is safe usage

Dead Or Alive

So many murders it's overkill
but no one cares on Capitol Hill
and some are less concerned
it seems to me
with the killing of the living
(whose taxes pay the wages of sin)
to each U.S. Supreme Court employee
than that of the unborn
or perhaps I should be more forgiving
tho' lives are broken they remain unspoken
on the Washington White House South

To be black

To be black
Is to constantly run
Maybe that's why they stereotype
Saying we are fast 
Speaking of fast 
That's what they say when a black girl has a nice ass
Because being black and being a woman
Means that it's our fault
And we deserve it 

To be black 
Is to constantly fight back 
With the hope we won't be

It's Rude To Point

What's wrong with them Americuns
forever pointing fingers
always pointing guns
searching for someone to blame
never changes
stays the same
with 'Love thy neighbour,'
and 'Thou shalt not kill,'
religious to the core
hypocrites to boot
and what's more
shooting people children too
wondering why innocent die
and yet they haven't got a clue

Guns and Roses

Guns and Roses


They sing their songs
for those who drop bombs
we know very well for who 
are the guns
Zionists who kill for pleasure and fun

They hold no rose for humanity
in name only
they sing for rape and death
and a babies last breath
their roses dead, their guns ablaze

The flower of love
the flower against oppression
the flower of life
amongst the

Guns and Ammo

Bullets come from the dead,
To kill the innocent;
For the injured,
Arrows lead to life -

Hundreds for Thousands

Rushing into the battlefield with all the might,
No turning back, fighting for what is right.
For the country, for the motherland,
Those hundreds for thousands, with rifles in their hand.
They have nothing, but memories of their loved ones,
All for their dearest motherland.

When we sleep in cozy beds, 
They sleep on cold-stricken ground 
When we eat heartily, they

SKEWED HUMAN NATURE

Kids screaming with joy,
toy guns fired at each other.
gifts from their parents:-

Teenagers shooting,
taking theirs' and others' lives;
firing parent’s gun:-

AI shooting games,
children joyfully playing;
parents happy:-

Murdering should not
be a gameplay for kids; let’s
check human nature:-

Feelings from a distance

Four gunshots go off
down, down, down, I go,
I wasn't even there

Machine Guns

Sitting here in Silence,

Machine Guns in my head.

The Echoing of things I said,

Firing every Second.

A dangerous place to tread,

Untying the Thread.

A place I dread,

Feeling already Dead.

Cant take back what was said,

Like bullets flying Ahead.

As they make their mark,

I light up my Spark.

Embracing the dark,

Cold, Harsh Truths.

Its No Use,

Stop the Abuse.

Its Everywhere,

You see.

In You,

In Me.

The Duality,

Hiding

Future or Death?

Future or Death

Ununderstable the powers of our world
This planet full of innovations and solutions
to make bombs, guns, super killer technologies,
but there are eight billion people on this planet
wants to live somewhere. Somewhere…
Soon nine, ten, eleven… billions of lives.
Here is no space, but empty the Space
Planets, solar systems, galaxies, all the Universe
Make living space by murdering

The sad Happy New Year

                                   The human creatures dancing 
               

The Use of Illegal Guns is never glamorous verses

With all due respect using my poetry of pain and suffering to advertise inspirational verses is truly sad glocks caused loss of life there is nothing inspirational about the effects of using an assault weapon truly sad place in American i watched a 9MM penetrative the body of a man while crawling on his belly

ROBBERS ON THE LOOSE - 3OTH SEPTEMBER 2024

ONE SHOULD NOT MAKE PLANS FOR TOMORROW, LIFE IS UNPREDICTABLE, THE UNEXPECTED CAN HAPPEN IN A SPLIT SECOND.            “QUOTE BY POET”


I woke up to a brilliant sunny spring day,
The flowers blooming, the birds were chirping,
The tree leaves dancing to a gentle wind blowing,
Rustling their

Range Day

Berms rise high to the left and right,
they’ve created a wide gully,
another berm squares off the back,
so no stray rounds ever get free.

There’s a metal spinner back there,
sits just short of two hundred yards,
I squeeze back and the bullet flies,
recoil jolts shoulder and arm.

I hear that small, metallic ping,
and thrill that I’ve gotten a hit,
may

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