Long Bullet Poems
Long Bullet Poems. Below are the most popular long Bullet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bullet poems by poem length and keyword.
Murk Rammer froze as he felt the nuzzle
of a snub-nosed thirty-eight’s deadly muzzle.
Louis The Retch poked it into his back.
“The jig’s up, Rammer. I ain’t cuttin’ no slack.”
Murk had been tricked by a double-crossing dame,
alias “Frigitte,” he didn’t know her real name.
She’d been his undoing, that cute little louse,
undoing the buttons on her bulging blouse,
then slipping out of her slip and her hose,
and her holster too; yeah, she had one of those.
He’d fallen for Frigitte, completely deluded.
She’d come on strong, delightfully denuded.
She’d kissed him hard and let him get a good grab,
but when he dozed off she skipped out and blabbed.
The shamed shamus woke up and found a clue
and went to a warehouse -- a decision he’d rue.
He’d fallen for the ruse, he’d taken the bait,
and walked right in to a date with fate.
That darn dame had put him on the spot.
He was one peeved peeper who’d loved for naught.
The warehouse was full of contraband goods.
They belonged to The Retch, a sleazeball hood --
lead falcons from “Malta” and vases from “Ming,”
dubious diamonds and other blarney-ish bling,
a lading of lies from a smug little smuggler,
who played for keeps and went for the jugular.
And now The Retch had gotten the drop.
No chance for Murk to call for the cops.
“It’s curtains for you,” the Retched one said,
“The only way out is to go down dead.”
“You win,” Murk said, with a little shrug.
He knew he was beat and waited for the slug.
A bullet in the back was the final payoff.
Fat chance The Retch would decide to lay off.
Murk heard the click of a cocked-back hammer
and waited for death in his taciturn manner.
Bang! went a gun – but not the thirty-eight.
The shot came from someone hiding behind a crate.
The Retch went down with blood on his chest,
then high heels approached; you know the rest.
Bad girl Frigitte leapt into Murk’s arms.
She just couldn’t stand to see him harmed.
And that had been Murk’s ace in the hole,
playing so well the Romeo role.
He wrapped his arms around Frigitte’s waist
and their mouths joined together, such a spicy taste!
Then he took her hand and led her out
into rain washed streets where wet shadows slouched.
Did Murk turn Frigitte in to the cops?
Or let love fill his head with mushy slop?
The ending of this tale I’ll leave up to you,
but as for me, I haven’t a clue.
Helplessly calling
Helplessly falling
Falling into place
Running this race
Fall leaves on the ground
They make no single sound
I'm bound to see the other side
You're my one and only beautiful bride
Bite the bullet
Bite the bullet
See right through it
See right through the pain
I'm still waiting for His rain
Ease your mind
Seek peace and you'll find
Relief from on high
That's something I can't deny
Hold on to me...
Hold on to me...
Where shall I flee?
Don't worry - we'll get through this!
Don't doubt anymore - be full of gladness
Happiness is one teardrop away
I'm but a broken toy in broad daylight
Red, red roses bloom
In the frost of my gloom
I'm falling into pieces
Never once falling into place
I see the glorious sky
The time passes me by
I'm reaching out into empty space
I'm making a legendary trace
I'm bound to see the other side
My love, I close my eyes on this rowdy ride
Don't subside from my side
Embrace my solitude stride
Bravery boils in my blood
I sit back and solemnly nod
I'm so bound to make a legendary trace
With a thousand gallons of your grace...
I want to find a cure to your pain
The pain that has been driving you insane
Be careful not to offend anyone by any chance
There's mere encouragement in your life to enhance
I've got to get up and make a legendary trace
Even if it means showing you in your face
I've been receiving gratification towards you
Take a step back and realize what I've gone through
You're not a failure
You're a winner deep inside
You're not a bad person
Just swallow your pride!
I want to find a trace of a cure to your lost soul
I need to be more considerate as a whole
I believe in you, so be brave and live life to the fullest
You haven't a clue how muc you're looking your best
While I project feelings of grief
Give me your radiant relief
Listen to the voice,
Echoing whispers of lovely desire
Listen to your mind,
Burning bright like a marvelous wildfire
I want to endure the tribulation of life's strife
I will bring forth a cure to this dilemma and its aftermath
Leave the past behind us and we'll survive this hard life
You and I will find God's legendary trace by entering His path
I've spoke my mind to you
I've longed for your legendary trace
Forgive my downfalls like you do
I've often prayed for your nirvana grace
To the proud parents, Anna and Theo
A serious lad, silent and thorough
A clan of preachers
And dealers of art
From the southern Netherlands came Van Gogh
When sent to school, he did not want to go
The separation led to much sorrow
But he learned to draw
Whatever he saw
Sent off to sell art in Paris, Van Gogh
His happiest time, and now in love, oh
Till the landlady’s daughter told him no
Now a broken heart
Surly to sell art
Fired from his job in Paris, Van Gogh
Vincent sought out a coal miners’ burrow
A priest of sorts, but a squalid fellow
The church was appalled
And cursed his resolve
To the asylum for crazy Van Gogh?
His father baffled, on the verge of foe
Art interest, once again, began to grow
Back to school again
This time, in His name
To paint in the service of God, Van Gogh
School’s out, back to his parents he would go
Using neighbors as subjects to ditto
Proposed to his cousin
Which she found disgustin’
Burning his hand to see her, holy Van Gogh!?!
Now off to The Hague, a family furlough
To live with Sien, a boozing bimbo
A man to see ya…
Caught gonorrhea
Three weeks in the hospital for Van Gogh
The pain of loneliness drove him back home
Once again, a failed love with fair Margot
Then Vincent’s father died
He grieved deeply inside
The tragedy further refined Van Gogh
Finally, Vincent’s work was in the know
“The Potato Eaters” made an art show
Just add more color
Said his dear brother
Rubens brightened the dark gloom of Van Gogh
Vincent’s diet: coffee and tobacco
Mixed with absinthe began to take its toll
Though he kept on painting
Then Paris, more training
The end was getting closer for Van Gogh
The masters: Monet, Degas, Pissarro
Cezanne, and Seurat in his studio
Influenced his style
Learning all the while
That time was running out for Mr. Van Gogh
Then he moved to Arles, bad health in tow
Completing great works the whole world would know
“Sunflowers” (in vase)
“The Café Terrace”
Minus one ear, the frail, ailing Van Gogh
With his tattered mind, and mournful woe
Committed to the asylum, Mausole
With his final works
“The Church at Auvers”
“Starry Night” was painted in pain, Van Gogh
“At Eternity’s Gate”, he was sorrow
Wandered into a field, farmer’s fallow
Put a bullet in his chest
In hopes of peaceful rest
“The sadness will last forever”, Van Gogh
A new dawn,
Unveiled hopes and surreal ecstatic.
The smiles on their faces,
Heralded news,
The folks were delighted.
It was worth every ounce of struggle.
Though, a dilemma.
Afraid of separation.
Yet, desperate to experience the journey.
The ambience compelled me.
I was finally seen off,
I was on a voyage to satisfy nature's balance.
Now I learned the way of flying.
They had fed me once, now the tables had turned.
The man I was had been called a coward.
They celebrated my bravery now.
Decorated badges shone and made them proud.
I lost one and two things to earn it.
Was it really worth it?
The grasp of my anxiety grew.
On a bright sunny day,
I was summoned by a great war.
The fallen heroes' cries haunted me,
They never let me close my eyes.
Though I dodged death,
My mates did not.
When consciousness returned.
A stream of blood filled my sight.
Decapitated bodies, blasted arms,
Eyes bulging out of their sockets,
The fallen were the luckiest.
One who lived was burning in hell.
Men begged me to put an end to their agony.
Our eyes shed blood,
Tears dried out.
I wished to shoot my brains out too.
The nefarious haunted site was too much to bear.
"I couldn't" I cried ....
A bullet shell dropped beside me.
I had killed my own man, or had I helped him?
His heart wide opened, and my shank.
My shin mangled, my eardrums burst.
"Medic! Medic! Medic!"
A few men rushed and took me away.
I only saw them talking but heard no word.
Certainly they would cut it.
The pain fainted me right away.
A chunk of metal cost me a leg.
What would a hurt man do?
Run away to his folks.
So did I.
The smile on their faces now faded.
They hardly talked about their dream again.
Blames encompassed a loop.
Still celebrated as a hero.
The shell-shock and vivid imagery of the war,
Ran through my mind every now and then.
I never slept again.
Trapped inside a war I had never waged.
It had now changed my periphery of life.
I despised it.
The fallen were the luckiest.
I couldn't even stand on my own.
I barely opened my mouth, only to be fed.
There it hangs, my greatest achievement,
So the folks claimed.
Why did I live in guilt then?
Was it to hide my sins,
Or to make me feel proud?
The barrage of questions and bullets,
Never left my conscience.
I may have quit the war,
It still ran inside my head.
Interpreting Poetry (mine)
Similar to scrutinizing
an abstract painting,
this author begetting
obscure words dumbfounding
readers, he eludes
(no shade tree fore rest)
clear cut discerning,
yet oft times his words
garner reviews raving
esoteric word choice,
how mind boggling
to this logophile despite
more than one reading
brow (sir) furrowed -
cognitive region scrunching,
no matter intent concentration
utter futility attempting
bedeviled comprehension, whether
literary master (me? ha...
not yet), among pantheon partying,
but nonetheless birthing
present day profoundly thought provoking,
undoubtedly tirelessly expending
mental energy eventually exhausting
effort in futility understanding,
asper mine stymied
linkedin attention getting
(then just as quickly losing)
registering resignation defeat alluding
to challenge physical prowess daunting
engagement well matched savvy sparring
partner, or possibly life
and death battling
against unwittingly aggressive brutal questing
archenemy, sans toward all living
species wretched nemesis ultimately deciding
mortality tacitly accepted proffering
transient longevity refusing
to compromise, haggle, negotiate,
et cetera casting
deadened demise of victor or villain
all thru civilization starring
as unopposable tour
de force quietly biding
end date, versus indiscriminately snatching
hero, heroine, coward,
et cetera requiring
impossible ransom while donning
mask of Melpomene
(Tragedy), or trumpeting
Thalia (Comedy), no exit stage door left
only joie de vivre
until last second ticking
unbeknownst unexpected, and uninviting
deathly hallows ringtone alarming
anonymous (oh Henry)
words worth struggling
to hash meaningfulness, viz
finite existence germinating
since birth, yet
terminal realization pressing
with greater frequency when aging,
and deafeningly ear splitting
amplitude bite the bullet clamoring
to tread welcome matt acquiescing
unavoidable phase of dying
devoid of any bargain, but requiring
unconditionally punishingly suffering
silent non binding
resolution, no exemption decrying
unfair contractual obligation, nor unionizing
worth a fig yore of
speech as cosmic arbiter
blithely doth shear - pruning,
without rhyme nor reason meeting
identical fate toward everyone
even posthumous destiny yours truly awaiting.
The human being
(also referred throughout history
as 'long pig' and 'hairless goat'
in the case of younger specimens)
Observing the anatomy and skeleton,
one can see that the human animal
after death young tender meat.
The large central pelvis and broad shoulder blades
also interfere with achieving perfect cuts.
There are advantages to this however,
especially due to the fact that the specimen girl
will weigh between 100-200 pounds,
easily manipulated by one man with proper leverage.
Controlled environments like institutions or jails before.
Health and diet to outward appearances maintained.
Humans are not very kind to the dead here it is why you are.
You are an unknown to me
thus subject to an enormous range of diseases,
infections, chemical imbalances,
and poisonous bad habits, all typically decreasing with age.
I personally prefer calm firm caucasian females
in their early teens.
These are 'ripe'.
But the saw varies from cut to cut,
and again there it is a very large herd to choose from.
The M.E.)
Medical Examiner will need a fairly large room and sufficient space
in which to work (an interior location is suggested)
and a large table for a butcher's block.
A central overhead support will need to be chosen
or installed ahead of time to hang the young body from.
Large tubs or barrels for blood
and waste trimmings should be convenient,
and a water source close by.
Most of the work can be done with a few simple tools.
Sharp, clean short and long bladed knives,
a cleaver or hatchet, and a hacksaw and ribspreaders.
Body Preparation requires plenty of water.
This helps flush the system,
purging stored toxins and bodily wastes,
as well as making bleeding and cleaning easier.
This one I will call Jane doe 007
was found at a bar stunned into insensitivity.
Sharp unexpected blows to the head put her at rest
quite is best, tranquilizers being recommended
If this is not possible without exciting the body
and causing a longer struggle (which then pumps
a greater volume of blood
and secretions such as adrenaline throughout the body
A single bullet through the middle of the forehead
exiting the back of the skull here did nice.
For what ever reason her companion is here right beside her.
Is is called murder suicide I think it is two suicides.
Whom ever goes last gets the cellophane wrap.
How can we not have this conversation
where footprints of the poor vanish
beneath the boots of investors,
and the river sings only
to those who can afford its luxury?
In Chobe, the elephants roam free,
but people walk caged in poverty.
We call it coexistence
when tusks are protected,
but mothers bury their sons
gored near neglected kraals.
And no one comes
unless it's a game drive
and the victim is not black.
How can we not speak
when the lion's roar is louder
than a widow's cry for compensation?
When leopards eat goats
and ministries write reports not cheques?
Let's talk about the five-star smiles
that greet foreign tongues
while the Batswana mop floors, serve beer, and sleep on concrete after ten-hour shifts.
Let's talk about uniforms and pay slips
that smell like servitude,
contracts folded into silence
in offices lined with antelope heads.
And let's speak of the racism
how a Black woman was shot by a white woman
who said, "I thought it was a monkey."
As if her body was a silhouette of threat.
As if Blackness is always a blur
on the edge of someone else's comfort.
The river bore witness, but the law shrugged,
and headlines softened the bullet.
Let's talk of fishermen
banished from their birthright,
told their canoes spoil the view,
that their laughter scares the tourists,
that their presence is pollution.
Let's speak of lodge owners
who toss insults like breadcrumbs
to those who clean their sheets
lazy, slow, replaceable.
No chains, but contracts.
No slurs, just smiles
with knives beneath them.
We cannot be quiet
when the sun sets
behind lodges built on lies,
and the river is fenced
not for safety, but exclusion.
How can we not speak
of the politics of permits,
where land is leased
like livestock,
and council seats are auctioned
to the highest foreign bidder?
Corruption blooms like water hyacinth,
choking life from the roots
of communal trust.
The sand knows.
The baobabs know.
Even the crocodiles know
how long we've swallowed
our own tongues
to protect the myth of peace.
So let us talk.
Let us gather in the heat
of midday truth,
where no luxury air-con hums.
Let us speak until the sky listens,
until justice stalks this land
as fiercely as the wild.
Because silence, here,
is complicity.
And we have been quiet
for far too long.
Form:
(Gen. 2:7 / Jer. 10: 23 / Matt. 4: 4/Isa. 45: 22/John 3: 16/Heb. 4: 12, 13/2 Tim. 3: 16, 17)
Would You Jump Onto The Point of A Sword?
Would You Jump Onto A Live Grenade?
Would You Drink A Whole Bottle of Poison?
Have You Lived Your Whole Life & Not Prayed?
Would You Open Your Mouth Wide To A Bullet?
Or Cut Your Own Veins With A Razor?
Would You Hang Yourself With A Noose & Fall?
Do You Not Want Eternal Life's Favor?
Would You Put - You & Your Loved Ones At Risk?
For Some Science Guess or Thesis?
That Life Got Here By Hit & Miss
& Means Nothing But Biological Pieces?
Are You One of Those That Fear Nothing?
Even As Your Own Life Ages & Fades?
At Powers & Forces Beyond Your Knowledge
Are You Not Just A Little Bit Afraid?
Would You Put Everything That You Value
and Hold Precious In This World ...
and Any Future It Could Have Had
Into A Tornado's One Final Twirl?
If You Knew You Were Going To Die
& There Was Nothing You Could Do To Stop It
Would You Live Life Like An Aimless Rocket?
Or Trust It To GOD's Powerful-Purpose-Pocket?
Do You Think That Humans Are The Only Ones?
The Only Intelligent Beings In The Universe?
Or Do You Know That We Are Not ...
& Just Don't Care Who Was The First?
And What If A Christian's Belief-Based Views
of Life - and Hope and Faith Proves To Be Truth?
Are You Prepared For The Consequences of Disbelief?
and Your Own Disaster? ...Well, Really ... Are You?
And If People Can Really Live Forever,
If There Was A Remote Chance That Its True?
Wouldn't You Make Sure & The Time To Find Out?
Or At Least Try To Get A Clue?
(If People Will Live Forever - Why Not You?)
And If Your Life Is So Terrible & Tragic
and If Your Life Is So Bitter & Bad
and If You're Ready To Give Out & Deliver It Up
Then Why Are You So Spirit-Sad?
And Would You Still Take Your Vague Chances
Not Caring About All The Particulars & Facts?
That If You Were Wrong About GOD ...
Now, Wouldn't You Want To Know About That?
Would You Jump Into The Deepest Ocean
if You Really Don't Know How To Swim?
Would You Let Yourself Sink Deeper & Deeper
if The Only Raft & Rope & Rules Was From HIM?
If You Were Buried Alive Beneath Boulders & Rubble
With Dust & Death Pressing In Every Layer
and With Just One Last Communication
Would You Still Ridicule Your Only Savior?
(Part 1 of 2)
Written & Copyrighted ©: 9/18/2013
by: MoonBee Canady
She passed many things, daily
As records played in the background
Don't go near, stay away, don't touch
Til she drove herself to the only place SHE could be
.................................FOUND
Monotony has a rhythm of its own
Familiar carries a purse of peace on its shoulder
Til the very thing one can never have or be
Is at the very place, forbidden, but now, wiser and older
She looked, maybe that was wrong too
But a glance caught her inner eye of wonder
Difference sat itself, right there in the tree, for everyone to see
The earth beneath her footing roared with thunder
She came to herself with a fevered haste
Rushing to leave the sacred place
.......lest sHE behold HIS fierce face
She avoided, went around, cut paths in the ground
Yet there difference still sat, living, breathing, NOT DEAD
............peace.......the only .........sound
Time stood still at the site of difference
The record played "Don't go near!" Yet difference
.............is HERE
Pain seared in her mind as she began to reason
Truth wasn't for the one who came from a rib
Men carry vision of the GOD, allusive, unknown
Maybe sHE could be greater if her mind uncovered
........a...........what???
No! Away, go away, little girl
Awwww, the pain, it hurts,
............ugh! I don't care if I DIE
...................nothing is as bad as THIS
CONSTANT BEATING OF A DRUM, GET ON WITH IT LITTLE GIRL, GO DO WHAT IS ALREADY .........................................................DONE.....................................
The bullet shot through the window, shattering glass
Leaving a hole for her to approach and finally ask
.........a question
She did it, walked into the presence of difference
And Difference wasted no time to point to the pain
He ran over the messages secretly playing
In the back, pushing her to the point to act "insane"
She repeated the message as though it were TRUTH
But Difference showed the flaw in reason and touch
Sitting in the forbidden tree no one could come near
Made HIM god, and obedience, a broken crutch
............for a HUNGRY god
Written by Trudy Schrader on 05/20/2020
Note: Pain is difference. It is the thing that makes us grow and come to know what is of LOVE and what isn't. We must push into our pain to understand, rather than yield to the idea it will last forever.
I don’t mind being left behind, friend of mine
But at least I have no one to judge me
I don’t mind being by your side – maybe I’m not your kind
Apparently, I don’t cross your mind – do I still belong?
(pre-ch) Wondering when you’re gonna let me know
If I am stronger than I realize…boy, how time flies…
Wondering why you decided to let me go
Stay a little longer, sweet sunrise…you’re the one I prize
(ch) Shame on me…shame on me…
For not loving you with my whole heart
Shelter me…shelter me…
Sun won’t shine down until I break apart
I swallow my pride suddenly, my attentive neighbor
Thinking of ways to forget and forgive the past
I wallow in my pain of regret and shame, trying to find a cure
Honestly, I still don’t know right from wrong – was I a curse all along?
(pre-ch) Wondering when you’re gonna let me know
If I am stronger than I realize…boy, how time flies…
Wondering why you decided to let me go
Stay a little longer, sweet sunrise…you’re the one I prize
(ch) Shame on me…shame on me…
For not loving you with my whole heart
Shelter me…shelter me…
Sun won’t shine down until I break apart
I don’t think you consider me, dear love of mine
Maybe I am useless and mean nothing to you
I don’t think being me is all that easy, but I’ll give it my best shot
Nearly upset and confused by your absence…
But I am still biting the bullet
Biting the bullet
Biting the bullet
(pre-ch) Wondering when you’re gonna let me know
If I am stronger than I realize…boy, how time flies…
Wondering why you decided to let me go
Stay a little longer, sweet sunrise…you’re the one I prize
(ch) Shame on me…shame on me…
For not loving you with my whole heart
Shelter me…shelter me…
Sun won’t shine down until I break apart
Nearly upset and confused by your absence…
Instead, I’ll be biting the bullet
Biting the bullet
Biting the bullet
Wondering when you’re gonna let me know
If I am stronger than I realize…boy, how time flies…
Wondering why you decided to let me go
Stay a little longer, sweet sunrise…you’re the one I prize
(whispering) Please tell me that I belong here with you…
Shelter me by your glistening hope…shining anew…
Give me the strength to move on from now on and forever
Even if it’s near the end of the hardship of missing you
I won’t assume the worst and I will get a grip…get a grip…