Guns and Chomsky
Professor Chomsky was not wrong
Talking to Epstein, great men tend to be naïve
and impressed by a well-placed question
about philosophy, as this school of thoughts
have many answers
Humanity has a breaking point because we
secretly mad, but of course, keep this insight
to ourself
That is why no one should be allowed to have
guns, or pistols, at home, those who need can
Belong to a club and leave the weapon there
When going and not being tempted to kill his wife
like the man who shot his wife ten times and
only wounded her
Other prisoners in the jail that they sent him to
will have great fun with that
I served in the Royal Navy for 18th month, but
When they wanted me to hold a gun, I refused
They sent me back to a small office where
I spent time making food lists.
Sure, I know the argument, the right to wear
arms to protect your family, not to kill their
own flesh and blood before shooting themselves
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.
thought we wanted big but seen it better...
a beautiful picture painted by the prince of weather dropping fear the day I drop a
tear is often hated more and more by the ones who say its forced
you a fake thought, dropping emotion the cost of lotion gripping ends of pistols better where it left was in the door
Stamens and pistils
delicately poised
Shamans and pistols
making too much noise
Soft buzz preferred,
a silencer’s desired
Pollinator’s sense
the triggers just fired
Nectar brings balance
agape open wide
Willing the seeker
to do laps inside
Comes with a snag
also stitch in the side
Fulcrum of a rose
the thorn realised
My soul’s not a flower
just gives and takes
Wants what it craves
accepts all, even fakes
Opens too early,
closes far too late
Can’t tell if I’m full,
yet knows when I’m sate
Possesses a thorn,
and stabs by design
Fulcrum of my soul’s
human not divine
Protects at all costs
only thing that’s mine
Not pain or loss,
just my life to define
Australia last year donated guns..Held by the goverment
Just token in the sum..Even pistols anything you can
Think..While its own citizens can't even clink.' The bolt
In a barrel withougt jumping through many hoops.' Strange
Times, strange laws.. What do you think.?? And all those
Guns were sent to Ukraine? Its like pouring fuel on a fire
To me thats so plain.'
pistols at dawn, one will die ~
fate unknown, both hearts will sigh
You can’t bring me down,
No matter what you do.
You can shout out loud,
But nothing can serve you.
I’ll stand tall
You can yell at the top of your lungs
Or shoot at me with your pistols and guns.
You can say that I’ll lose or fail,
But my success will turn your face pale.
I’ll stand tall
You can try to break my heart
With your words that stab like a knife
Or with your conniving schemes that you plot.
All I know is that you have no place in my life.
I’ll stand tall
This isn’t the end, not by a long shot.
Come at me with everything you got,
But one thing’s perfectly clear;
Your actions will never faze me.
I’ll stand tall
Amid the chorus of guns and bullets
And the thunder of heavy bombardments
A nightingale calls for daybreak
Its song of war keeping me awake.
Amid the whistle of pistols
And the whine of missiles
A child breaks into a smile
Reminding the world to be happy.
Amid the scenes of rotting corpses
And the ruins of decayed lands
A flower lovingly blooms
Revealing the beauty of nature's resilience.
This is the peace amid war
A truth we foolishly ignore
Instead, we chase after hollow ambitions
Even at the cost of cherished traditions.
Root’n Tootn’ Snoot’n Groot’n Blue’tn cowboys came to town.
Firing pistols with one shot inside, outside, up and down.
What can I do the tiniest cowboy cat asked his mother.
Help guard the strawberries with your no-good brother.
Brother went out to try to talk the cowboys out of their mean.
He’s the bravest cat cowboy this town had ever seen.
Maybe he is full of goodness after all, said the cats’ mother.
Tiniest cowboy cat was proud of his find-their-goodness brother.
It’s pistols at dawn ~
Live or die, we yawn
CYBER LIFE
My stamen a purple flare of Light
lit from Galactic Sun
igniting me for an hour or a day
a week or month, who knows ?
Portholes open ever so slightly
Time truly an illusion
Between petals I zoom extracting
nectar for cloaking against
cyber pistols, unpeelings
invasions, unveilings, insertions
with fire eating flesh
A joke tastes of poison
Moon a metallic observer
Buttons, knobs, numbers, clicks
My babes in their Pleiadian pods
incubated quietly like geraniums
in the backyard
Radiants swirl down marbled stairways
No corridors or medbeds touched
trained so on a faraway planet
Sheets folded in symphony
without speck, sparkle or frequency
We were strapped
Plutonians commanded
destruction
Tails chopped or dissolved
pendulums swung
A silent silvery slippery kiss
below a peppered moustache
pats on backs for a job
well done
My stamen wilted into mauve
Galactic Sun still waits
for me, as I return
to civilian couch
©GhairoDanielsPoetry&Song
2022
We had Gumby
and Pokey,
And Sanford & Son.
We had Mark Spitz,
And Monty Python.
We had Lenny Bruce,
And Chips.
We had the Sex Pistols,
And A Ballroom Blitz.
We had Martin Scorsese,
And Happy Days.
We had the
Stepford Wives,
And Roe VS Wade.
We had What's up Doc,
and the Rockford files.
We had Gay Pride Parade,
and I can see for miles.
We had Women's Lib,
And Emergency.
We had One Flew Over
The Cuckoo's Nest,
And Mohamed Ali.
We had A Star is Born,
And little Chinatown.
We had Jesus
Christ Superstar,
And Foxy Brown.
We had the VCR
And Adam-12.
We had White Lightning,
and Josey Wales.
We had the Gay
Rights movement,
And Dragnet.
We had the Deer Hunter,
and Stanley Kubrick.
We had the Iran hostage crisis,
and a Six-million-dollar man.
We had Carnal Knowledge,
And The Stand.
We had the
Mississippi Queen
And Tony Orlando.
We had Abba singing
about Fernando.
We had Mick Jagger,
And John Wayne.
We had Rare Earth,
And Fire and Rain.
Turbo1904 ?
pistols at dawn
one will live
the other will die
both of them, I am
so watch from above
inanity and insanity
I conjured in dreams
the die is cast
I enact both roles
by bilocating consciousness
nonchalant to outcomes
holding onto a secret hope
of divine intervention
that love may triumph
Sam and Twitch, two partner cops
bust the bad guys in the chops
they found corruption
and much disruption
in the NYPD shops
Sam was big, and loud, and gruff
with criminals, he was rough
tendency to curse
sometimes even worse
he’s the first to call a bluff
Where Sam was brawn, Twitch was smart
Angles were his state-of-art
twin pistols twirling
steady aim sterling
simple logic off-the-chart
With Al, confronted evil
sometimes causing upheaval
finding rotten cops
pulling out the stops
integrity retrieval
Their story stops in interrupt
as sales were not up to snuff
sadly the tale ends
without fair amends
their end was much too abrupt.
Triggers are red,
barrels are blue.
Smith and Wesson
I love you!
Targets are set,
guns are sighted.
In my hand,
I get excited!
Bore snakes out
Hoppe’s too
be good to them
they’ll be good to you!
NB: I have a great photo of my grandson's team with their SCTP Nationals Trap Shooting trophies, but PS will not allow me to upload it. Your loss. LOL. There are no shotguns in the picture, but a depiction of one on the trophies. (I can upload any other picture from my library or off the Web, unless it shows guns or shooting - how very liberal. Pity, it is a great sport, as are other types of shooting competitions.)
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