PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

As the deathly, Icey slices of the shattered glass fly towards my face, unzipping the skin…

I knew. They. Were. Here.

The cold sweat pours down my face as I search for a plan…

I can’t hear myself think!

The deafening sound of bullets showering on your cover

The yelling of young men

…and the last shrieks of the female nurses, who have now fallen

contributes to the foul smell

The foul smell of the empty shells where the souls lived.

“Fuck!”

My long hesitation on the battlefield has paid off…

O’, the exquisite beauty of the sharp pain

One glance down…to view the left shoulder

As the metal drowns into my flesh…

Harsh Rubber of their soles thuds

Thuds. Sound surrounds, me

Up

Only to see the points of those guns

Only to see the strings of life

Face. Me.

BANG!

-Sachi Ruaya

*Written within the time limit of 15 minutes (phew)

"No excuse, 

but the metal has rusted. 

An unkept armory. 

Barrels with red, 

triggers peppered orange. 

Springs stuck, 

pins, unmoving. 

Bores obstructed. 

The whole weapon set

useless, 

to the trained eye. 

But

a gun is still a gun, 

the potential it has

to kill, 

ever present. 

Rusty or not, 

it is still recognizable, 

months of no use

not enough to erase

the sizable impression

of the shape, 

the indication

of the handgun, long gun. 

The task looming, 

Armorer, 

keys in hand, 

sighing. 

Unlocking 

the cages, 

duty tumblers turning, 

locks coming free. 

So long, 

had it beem

since maintenance

had been laid

where it belong. 

The familiar metal

began to fill hands, 

twist, turn,

rifles broke down, 

pistols slid apart. 

Rusty was the

mind, 

as were the firemans, 

but both began 

to be broken

free. 

Rag, brush, 

break-away sprayed, 

assemblies oiled.

Pieces began to click, 

operate smoothly, 

unlike language, 

where lack of use

means disappearance, 

past tense

isn't the demise

of functionality of things,

like bike riding. 

or an armory. 

The Armorer will be busy,

it may take some time.

But he will pass inspection. 

With work, 

with determination, 

desire 

and time. 

It takes time

for things to rust. 

It takes time

to fix such a lack of use. 

The best solution

isn't busting rust, 

but daily use, 

rather." 

The ship sways but I pay no mind

from Trinidad to Cuba...

We sing songs and shanties,

but time just expands...

Like the cold water beneath our boots.

My mates will think of Anne Bonny

but I walways dream of mermaids...

Oh, how it would be...

To swim alive in Davy Jone's locker.

Her and I would have a goats jig,

and I would arise to the surface,

with a large toothless grin...

I would fire my mortars into the air,

and when the night closed in,

me and my hearties would celebrate...

By plundering vast ships,

and counting our loot.

Our prisioners in shackels

and our enemys as shark bait.

I will sail the Caribbean,

sea to bloody sea.

With flintlock in hand,

a pirates life for me.

....................

Roses in a vase, he received from his true love,

Forced by an armed hand, to pretend to some other his love,

Oh how painful, I feel your sorrow, cutting like a knife,

Please know when you associate in waters so rancid

It will bring you nothing but strife.

"Your roses gave me comfort", he told me,

"Upon my darkest hours,

My heart is yours forever, my love,

Through all the worst of our showers."

Reality can be alarming, but hope is always close,

If it was truly love it will leave you with a ghost,

Take the ghost and make it all the good things that you shared,

Learn the lessons, and if you do

another chance with the next person might keep you spared.

For love is the great teacher, if we only take it's hand,

We cannot learn what love can teach, from a woman or a man,

We have to stand our ground so firmly in integrity and faith,

And never be fooled into thinking that love will be given 

Through you helping to foster someone else's disgrace.

3:28 PM 7/15/2013 ©

.........................

She sure was a beauty, said she was mine
But her daddy didn’t think so, that wasn’t fine
In the dirt driveway, he drew a line
And pulled out his Silver 1911

He was old school, with a fighter inside
Said that with me she couldn’t take a ride
Said she’d leave over his dead hide
And pulled out his Silver 1911

They’d been hurt before, so I didn’t mind
Said I didn’t plan anything of the kind
If he’d see my true blue, then he would find
A heart like his Silver 1911

The best of the best
The leader of the West
That fought for what was right
The bringer of the law
By a real quick draw
That won every fight
God’s Holy wrath
And if you do the math
There’s a lot more right than wrong
Written in it’s past
There’s nothing quite as fast
As a Silver 1911

Well, that seemed to hit a cord
His stepping away was a sign of the Lord
And I took him with us in my old Ford
With his Silver 1911

Now I know just how he felt
A daughter of my own that’ll make a heart melt
So to inspire the boy’s Holy fear, on the side of my belt
Is my Silver 1911

A Gun or a Rope
Some Pills or to Choke

I'll Cut Deep With a Knife
Until I Bleed Out and Die

Overdose will be considered at most.

Pills and Alcohol
May solve it all

I Want to choke,
But I need a rope

Just put a fucking gun to my head,
Let's end it, that's what I said.

A Beautiful ending
To my life Descending.

OK, here was my nightmare:

I was in this house that had a basement and in the basement were stairs that led to an attic like place. The basment was haunted and so scary. I was terrified to even be next to the basement door. I followed this old lady down into the basment and up these stairs into the attic. There was a living room there with two couches and two chairs. I sat up there with the old lady and all of a sudden I felt a cut on my cheek and instead of the blood running down my cheek it ran up my cheek and the old lady was like "Oh they got you too, it happens to me all the time."

Then my mom and three other old people came up there with us and sat down. They said they wanted to play a game and they all pulled out guns and started shooting eachother. Then this HUGE black dude came upstairs with a GIANT ax and chopped the old dude sitting in the chair next to me in half! I screamed and ran out this door which lead to this hill outside.

As I ran out there were tons of people following me, running in fear too. Jeff was there as well. I finally went back to the basement and discovered that my mom was missing an arm and it was all bloody as hell. There were nurses there and they were making us stick out hands in this jar-like thing full of bullet ants. It hurt but they said it was for our own good. When we got back into the house I walked into the bed room and discovered Jeff in bed with a 15 year old. He said he had been cheating on me with her for 6 months. I started to cry and beg to him telling him that I loved him so much no matter what he did. And he got pissed and this teenager, who was his friend in my dream, started telling him that I was a bitch and he should kill me.

Then there was gun fire coming from everywhere and everyone started running and I could see Jeff and that teenager coming after me with a gun. Then Jeff shot me in the back. I finally got away from him and met this woman who took me to this other woman's house where she said she could fix my wound. So she did but I was still scared shitless.

Then all of a sudden all those people came into the house and were still running around like chickens with their heads cut off. I saw Jeff and the teenager and hid under these stairs, my heart was pounding. Then Jeff and the teenager saw me and Jeff poitned the gun right at me and I kept saying "why are you doing this? I love you so much please don't do this!" Then he shot me in the head and I fell to the floor but I was still alive. I played dead untill he was gone, or so I thought. When I got up he saw me and ran towards me and held the gun to my face. I broke down. And cried and cried and cried, and begged for my life and I kept telling him "I love you, please don't kill me, I Love You.".Then there was a struggle. Then I hear "BANG!!!" That's when I woke up.

It all seemed so real too. I never want to have that dream ever again!

High speed collision

Self inflected round

Whatever it may be

You are fucking dead



Suddenly you're loved

Everyones heartbroken

Not a single fuck was given

Til the day your blood shed

Bang Bang!
Click, Click.
My targets fall
real quick,
bleeding (as if I care)
my shells float,
soaking up blood.
I shine like black silver
and roar ruthless thunder.
Silencing the argument,
your lives lie in my hand,
an indifferent one,
a violent one.

-Ryan K. Fuller