Long Firearm Poems
Long Firearm Poems. Below are the most popular long Firearm by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Firearm poems by poem length and keyword.
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.
Violence in the political party
A pebble thrown to defend oneself from a barrage of 100- stones
The bully then complains of abuse—might never makes right
will we unite?—I Am Anaya “All for one and one for all”
Bullied everyday was he, his peer would tell the news agent
He was different, a loner, weird, wore camouflage
And so, we tormented him
A lunch bench, a boy sequestered was “bullied every day”
Silent, defeated, sunken, he rarely spoke a word
Clean slate, passes a routine background check
A dietary aid prepping food in a nursing home
Nothing unusual nothing remarkable
Republican at heart for God knows what gave way, donates
to the loyal opposition a progressive bent
A bit addled and mixed up, can we see?
Unleashing his wrath a man filled with hurt with hate
In his own backyard, the tormented dons the guise of the tormentor
The assailed becomes the assailant
The unthinkable is done, perched upon a roof
four-hundred feet away just minutes into the oration
he aims then pulls the trigger
obscure and distressed Crooks alters history’s course
with a firearm at the ready as a duty and right
Father Crooks kept many, in a very pro-gun town
At the hands of a 20-year-old man who was
bullied by their own sons and daughters
Counselors, both father and mother
trained to help troubled minds, how ironic
Where were they as their son’s inner storm brewed?
A blind eye turned away what shame, what horror
Yet the world’s most salient story
it takes a fox to catch a fox
so tell herod that hillter is dead
Geof Guthner a proud futher more a seduction of the haraalot
purple is the platform as they fuel up nomitated me to s[peak up
as they sneak by i reach for a sylobol
reacher has a quill in his hand
the pen is mightier than the sword Churchill said once
that virtue we are born with
not gaven by our recollection of past lives
even i feel like i died once
i still breathe from the same the life form
dipol belcast greivences are from the kings men
even though he fears the outcome
still he hears their continual cry for Christ return
so as an upright man he signs and seals the production of the firearm
the signet of the queen steals the protest of the englands heirarchy
lovers lanes fort bragg never boast when they sorrow
children this is spoken arappoh George McWashington is a God send
2 days marked om my calender
appreciate the memo look out Trumps back in im in the power
Vocalized it would sound terrible like the understatement of a century
plenty of chymes in the graveyard as they sign the declaration of indepence
bears im not scared of lions are my playpen
the dark should not be feared but prepared for
like a light cast a shadow master sargent Cladiua
i need a expediant assignment of your squad it would take a batallion to kill thgem all
if i gestured and intruced to fort beautiful
she would tell you trigger puller reccomends agents to oprate operation passlode
and blackhawks are no desire to a vitnam veteran
istead use the white wall
blast of passions such as seeing your child bourne
acts of compassions such as God prepares my table in the presence of my enemiea
no i will not feed them
mostly at worse i figurev torture would be more appropiate
lord is the earth gone
does it not live at your mercy
please come and He restores us
hurry is from the devil
as i take time to write this
24 hrs is a timeline
sealions exports merchant marines sheiolds up
blindfolded by shear love
if you love something enough you would let it go
A child scratches a spacecraft in the dust,
He does not call it a 'spacecraft'
because it is 1911. The Colt Firearm Company
has patented the first reliable semi-automatic pistol;
it does not look like any other handgun.
Decades earlier, Karl Drais invents
the meat-chopping machine.
Delmonico's has long served breakfast steaks.
All at once and singularly, an ethnic sandwich
becomes the 'hamburger'.
New shapes feed bodies and minds;
inevitably, there are consequences.
ideas are left over - like ketchup.
Meat fueled notions activate ray-guns;
cattle are mutilated in Idaho.
In front of his Osaka home, the boy
drops his stick, stares open-mouthed at the dirt.
Things get messy. Mushrooms and red sauce.
Millions of people are annihilated
by atomic meat-chopping machines.
The boy survives, has a son of his own.
The child finds a way
to contain the machines inside a computer-game
called, 'Space Invaders'.
Tomohiro Nishikado does not like ground meat.
Ketchup is now often dispensed in small packets.
It is eaten with fast food while playing war-games.
Unfortunately, there is residue,
ideas escape. Flatulent cows cause a global warming;
civilization cannot eat them fast enough.
New improved meat-chopping machines are activated
by computers;
there is collateral ketchup.
The 1911 colt pistol is still popular.
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
16 lines
Cuz existence among *****sapiens
extremely intolerable prospect
particularly sharing planet
with most violent species
courtesy hoodlums wielding
deadly firearms methodically gun down
men, women and children
ratcheting grim milestone
countless dead civilians linkedin
with hazards of war zone.
Upon surrendering this self
hypnotized faux yes ("FAKE") Earthing,
I noticed nothing amiss
(which temporary state of transcendent bliss
twice daily meditation strives to attain),
ah...before you dismiss
a non "FAKE" claim lemme juiced
apprise ye with a very brief hiss
tour re:, how this generally outlandish
(long gush fellow) doth wanna kiss
hippy, cheeky and buddy
UFO's (with chess
a mon bot of errant knightly -
je ne sais quois finesse,
Oh Henri Matisse -
yea artfully add a touch of Swiss
obviously predominantly
French laced politesse),
though up pawn occasion
this lousy manque non
rook key mutant doth miss
long disused subtle social cues, cuz I still
feel asper (in) a human aberration
always felt like an outcast in an alien nation
even though born on Mars,
(a distinct honorable station),
yet resided on third rock from the sun
what seems like forever damnation
yours truly experienced abolition
against supposed invaders from outer space,
and essentially targeted, kindled,
and bullied on par like an abomination,
no surprise while attempting
to escape imponderable,
and intolerable being walled din,
and trumped "illegal" accusation
crackled, snapped, and popped with abjection,
your honor (forgot to mention
earlier got picked up mistaken as invitation
from outer space by a kid prized
as some sophisticated surveillance drone),
within an etchy sketchy section
of town, and must avoid acquisition
by mad scientists (employed by NASA),
who will undoubtedly take immediate action
and disassemble me (carefully as if dismantling
Bono fide atomic bomb), hence activation
must be established pronto against administration,
sans powerful GMO firearm, emitting disinformation
(mine defense of last resort)
will definitely signal to nemesis
furthering my aggravation,
and Putin this webbed, whirled,
and wired woebegone
wysiwyg wordsmith at risk.
A man should first know his own strength,
what it is he can and cannot do,
our physical power is no small thing,
use it wrong and you’ll be truly screwed,
they’ll take everything away from you.
But on the right job, or in self-defense
it’s a boon that can make all the difference.
A man should know that he has to work,
that without it there’s no dignity,
that hand-outs just put you on a leash,
make you someone else’s property,
for them to move around endlessly.
To truly be free, you’ll have to labor,
earn the respect of yourself and your neighbor.
Man should know of his nation’s past,
what it cost to get where we are now,
the good and the bad, and who sacrificed
to give us the life freedom allows,
not all folks with this chance are endowed.
It is our duty to see it live on,
to not do so would leave our children wronged.
A man should know to carry a knife,
and to own and use a firearm,
to know the when and why of such things,
in defense only should he cause harm,
or if hunting food down on the farm.
But trusting to fate will leave a man dead,
you must have the tools to hand evil its head.
A man should know how to spend his money,
how to plan ahead and make a budget,
and to put aside for the unforeseen,
it always hits when your least expect it,
and a killer lies within large debts.
It’s not just cash, it’s hours of your life,
things are easier when you spend it right.
A man should know that human nature
is something that’s never going to change,
and all who think they’ll ‘remake’ the world
as either childish, evil, or insane,
their ideas end in nothing but pain.
Treat people as the mixed batch they are,
at least then you’ll have the chance to go far.
A man should know that women are built
different not just in body, but in mind.
Each sex will have its natural strengths,
and we play to them all the time.
Given our aggression men will find
use in restraints from old chivalry,
no matter the protests of the feminazis.
A man should know how to be sincere,
to be honest in his life and his work,
to hold close to a firm code of honor
so as not to devolve into a jerk,
but to still remember how to hurt,
because if you can’t, if you have no backbone,
then you can forget a life that’s your own.
THE CANDLE IN THE WIND
This is the story
Of a light
Back when there were few
Men on Earth
Light and electricity industry
And Wo/Men
Took great care of their candles.
Using in their defense
To face the mysteries of the night
To place by the day
At the foot of prints and imagery
To help them
Carrying their heavy load
Of daily life.
It happened, one day
that a certain Zaguan
He was a farmhand
And worked by the herd
For a gentleman from Requena de Campos
In the Palencia’s province
He came to a covered place
On a street or square
Built on pillars
Bringing a candle in his hand
To walk or to get rid
Of the Moon of the shadows
When, suddenly, from somewhere
An air came to him in movement
Even if
It was at rest
That brought smelling as a trace
Leaving the hunting pieces
Or the bullet's gap
In the bore of the firearm
It turned off the candle
And it turned it off again
When he tried to light it
And that suddenly touching his nape
As it usually does
In the bone that dogs have
Between the ears
Said inside his mind:
- To whomever goes out at night and watches the wind:
Nothing is revealed
At night all cats are brown
And what is done at night
In the morning seems
Only a thought.
3/20/22
Going at an alarming speed
Taxes and parking fees
Across uncharted seas
I'm in the presence of sharks and trees
Keeping any B.S. far from me
Among constant conflict and chaos, I've only partially
Found harmony
It all use to dishearten me
Experienced much first hand rather harshly
Around me was constant paraphernalia like a pharmacy
In years past, I partook in some carpentry
Sometimes I make chimichurri with ingredients like parsley
Remarkably
What I do will not matter or it shall far exceed
All expectations, meanwhile most continue harming each
It's typical no longer startling
People charm and tease
Cause harm and cheat
A lot of them are a creep
Mama told me, boy get your s*** straight
Otherwise you're ending up in fifth place
Won't exceed if your content with that and think it's great
Someday I'mma drop a mixtape
On B.S. they often fixate
Far too many commit hate
Worldwide instead of just across this state
I'm not jaded
Even though I constantly got cross faded
Often living in space
For a long time I was a bit late
So the ship sank
But after a quick break
It all became innate
Still they treat others worse than inmates
People far too often piss-take
And they love to dictate
At this rate
That'll be their last mistake
Because it all gives shape
To being dim and fake
Leading toward a grim fate
Damn girl you got a thick waist
If I don't shape up, I could end up being fish bait
Can't get by with a higher loss than win rate
Specific crowds targeted
Harmful products continually marketed
Won't catch me in a cardigan
I finished it and now I've started it
Got back to drinking hard again
Risking an arm and leg
In daylight I'm charging in
Or in the dark I hid
Hmm girl, you're so very far from a gem
Often broke the hearts of men
For a long time of love they were hunger-starven
Got to keep a smart head
And a firearm instead
Of just a blade with a sharp edge
Concern for human life is often disregarded
Doesn't matter what you do, like if you bartend
Or became a jarhead
Can't do anything if you are dead
I was influenced by Basil Fawlty
that sarcastic humour really caught me
inappropriate rude crude and naughty
humour against stress which haunts me
I'm the sort some assume a dim bulb
even the spoons make a sharper knife
impulsive projections cause eyes to roll
a daily custom always part of my life
and yet people fail to see the sea
over there between the land and the sky
for the Wildebeest sweeping majestically
as though impulse is a thoughts finish line
I know nothing about the horse
a witnit flying pig in the water tank
thoughts follow impulse of course
my brain is working you Fawlty blank
That wasn't the fire alarm
yet it causes you to get gobby
you're Major with a firearm
shooting starlings in the lobby
So who wins these bloody mind games anyway
wound up telling me stop talking about the war
which they started when Poland saw an invade
"is this a piece of your brain?" as i pick dust up off the floor
A false sense which makes them hopeful
becomes a trip to see India at the Oval
they don't see the rat in me called Basil
biscuits cheese and a Lord Mulberry puzzle
I'm a good lad
a Waldorf Salad
the chef's gone home
rooms without baggage
if you can't hear me turn it on
blind with glasses on your head
you put my door in a load baring wall
"Hello Major" the Moose once said
i sit there for years doing nothing
when i actually need it for flames you place
and i have to use my brain and think
the bloody think will explode in your face
I know how to address stupid
even if i often appear confused
my small back road is your M1
and with quick wit I've won.