Quotes about trigger, page 3
Commit Suicide
Get that knife
Pull that trigger
Jump off that edge
Cut deeper with that razor
Please just kill yourself
This world is better off
Without you
No one will care if you die
If you commit suicide
By morning I want to find you dead
In a puddle of blood
Upon that cold floor
Nothing else but red
Please just let me find you dead
Because I don’t need you
No one does
They never have
And they never will
Commit Suicide tonight
You’re already crying yourself to sleep
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poem by Broken Hearts
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After Murder
its like looking at your reflection in the glazed eyes of your dead lover
from the stained knife in your hands to the fading rage thats over
its then you feel your body cringe inside itself
still feeling the vibrations from their cries of help
still in the murder scene you cave in
you still feel the fireish tingle from the sin
crawling on your skin
still you know you'd commit again
yet collapsing from the off set of the trigger in your mind
the trigger that set you to unwind
rubbed the clit of insanity till you let go to the orgasm
you cant still feel the chasm
of blind murder coursing through you veins
still immune to the victim's defense pains
caught in the vividly fading remains of a climax
still feeling the tremble on the edge, still cant relax
following the repulsion of truth, till you flee
and in the back of your mind you swear you felt the victim bleed
poem by Kathryn Garner
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Abject Murderer
And when all is gone
There will be none;
Because you thought you are,
Because you thought you were;
When you are long gone,
When there was none;
And the friction ignited the drivels
Of fiction, of fraction,
Of great divide
That was there
In the pumping
Of the breathing veins and atriums
Meandering, calculating
All that's gone
More apt
The weight of none;
And what good will it serve
To stare down at loaded gun?
Yearning for your lips,
The velocity of your heart,
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poem by Norman Santos
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The gun rules
Stop, Stop
Please don't pull the trigger
You think I don't understand, you fool
The gun rules
You can claim my land
I will understand
You think I care about the money
Dive as you need into my honey
For I know
The gun rules
and heads must bow
The gun rules
Say yes, not no
The gun rules
Powerful than fistful blows
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poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Frostbitten Finger
Frostbitten finger beckons to frown future's clown
while old ways linger.
Is freedom ginger beer froth support for one’s own
survival’s binger,
or doppelganger phantom intellectual gown
mortal mask danger or moral ask anger?
Time's trial stinger faults thought lines, trigger meltdown.
Life's strife is cliff clinger,
for poor puppet stringer's cold feet answers. Fate' frozen crown
Frostbite quiets siren song singer
seeking fools’ gold - pyrites otherwise known
as strict dead-ringer
icing out cold gold bell ringer's frostbite finger.
Frostbitten Fingers
Frostbitten fingers
beckon to frown future's clown
while old ways linger
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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K-Car
To the memory of the Rhodesian Helicopter Pilots and
the 20mm cannon Gunner.Two men one helicopter;
known as K-car…..Killer-car.
A formidable force in the Rhodesian Bush War.
RHODESIAN K-CAR
‘Chopper’ pilot calmness,
Cannon gunner’s skill,
Two minds in perfect harmony,
Flew in now for the kill,
Ten comrades in arms,
Pinned down by enemy fire,
Ambushed and compromised,
Their backs now to the wire.
One pilot and one gunner,
Men who knew no fear,
S.O.S. came through to them,
Urgent… but so clear,
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poem by Alf Hutchison
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A Pearls Worth
Silver pearls fall down her skin
She knows she must do it for she can't stay strong
For all she has to do is count to ten
She knows he's always wrong
Silver pearls fall down her face
In the dead of night, it is so dark
She stands in the room with fear, with hate
In her soul the pain he gave has left its mark
Silver pearls fall on the barrel
As she holds the gun in her hands
For long before this night their love grew stale
And oh how she thinks it is easy to hold life and death in her hands
Silver pearls fall over bruises, the pain
She bites her lip as she counts one... two
In her heart he's left the stain
She looks at his still body three... four
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poem by Bethany Maxwell
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From Kennel or Hearth?
In the bush south of Chapleau
Two stormy portages away,
Stood a Golden Dog 'Brandy'
Under ashen skies grey.
We were hunting for moose
When the dog so peculiar
Got a look in his eye
A look, not all familiar.
You had to know him
Obtained as a pup
And for his 12 years growing
He'd NEVER act up.
A Golden Retriever loving;
Gave his heart, as they do,
Through a divorcing depression
Empathy, always HIS view.
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poem by Richard Stopps
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Bomb In C Minor
There's a minefield set inside my head
Any little push and I think we're all dead
The barrel is loaded through my twisted neurology
Which social miasmas set in motion the trigger
Leading tainted endearments that lead me to linger
A hyacinth aborted, in the killing fields bloomed
caution were you tread, or this roman candle will yield
There's a bomb playing c minor, it's my schizoid sonata
Cracked coronets pick away my head with an axe
The violins scratch impressions on mahogany lines
While the Spanish guitar paints me to a far away time
And nobody hears the pressure point crescendo to the drums
as the bomb goes off for session number 1
Everyday is navigated combating a barbed wire planet
For eyes and subtle sneers, firing the shot penetrating fear
Wounds fragrant the body and make a casualty worn
Without notice to recoil the shrapnel lodges your thoughts
And every scar to the insults engineers a damaged mind
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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Poetic Standard
Poetic Standard
Poetic inspiration must supply
Open sourced resourcefulness, may not
Exist in half-light, cuts the gordian knot
That holds back harmony from inner eye.
Insidious compromise can't satisfy
Creative impulse that rejects as blot
Secondary lot where, half forgot,
Tired lines block, lock life's vista, dreams deny.
All hesitation acts out living lie
None should accept to temper daily rot,
Dread time-trap snapped shut once one bolt is shot.
Aloft soar, draw from intuitions, fly!
Read much, hunch heed, rise from rant's rubbish vent,
Dare to revise, creative dance invent.
Skein poetic weaves life's leaves. Flash wink
Turns think through ink to stage fulfilling page
As insight mixes music, words wild, sage.
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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