It was comical because you're at a firing range, all these people are so seriously shooting their little guns.
quote by Ryan Reynolds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Top Man
This is a public warning
Be careful when you're out
We are having freaky weather
There's a lot of it about
On the terraces is it swinging
He's a monkey on the roof
You've seen him on the telly
So let me introduce you're host tonight
T.o.p.m.a.n. he's naughty by nature
T.o.p.m.a.n. on doubles and chasers
T.o.p.m.a.n. guilette or a razor
T.o.p.m.a.n. shooting guns on the high street of love
In a crowd it's hard to spot him
But anonymity can cost
He's never cheap or cheerful
He's hugo and he's boss
He's riding through the desert on a camel light
And on a magic carpet he'll fly away tonight
Open sesame
T.o.p.m.a.n. he's naughty by nature
T.o.p.m.a.n. on doubles and chasers
T.o.p.m.a.n. guilette or a razor
T.o.p.m.a.n. shooting guns on the high street of love
T.o.p.m.a.n. sees her in double
T.o.p.m.a.n. then pukes on the pavement
T.o.p.m.a.n. likes her all clean and shaven
T.o.p.m.a.n. shooting guns on the high street of love
T.o.p.m.a.n. he's naughty by nature
T.o.p.m.a.n. on doubles and chasers
T.o.p.m.a.n. guilette or a razor
T.o.p.m.a.n. shooting guns on the high street of love
T.o.p.m.a.n. shooting guns on the high street of love
T.o.p.m.a.n. shooting guns on the high street of love
song performed by by Blur from The Great Escape
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After a shooting spree, they always want to take the guns away from the people who didn't do it. I sure as hell wouldn't want to live in a society where the only people allowed guns are the police and the military.
quote by William S. Burroughs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I want to change. (sad)
Im the way i am,
i cannot change.
I'd shoot for the sky,
but im out of range.
do you think im normal?
or do you think im strange?
go to the place ware people go,
and you'll see me in the firing range.
taking hits wile i move the targets,
just trying to rearrange, and to change,
the tings that drive people insane,
to change my life,
yet it remains unchanged.
poem by Poet of the River
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There are naked people in boots on a mountain top firing guns.
quote by Andy Richter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The shooting of the guns, that was kind of funny, because rolling a cigarette and shooting a gun aren't like normal things for a 13-year old girl!
quote by Hailee Steinfeld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Guns
Tiny people, with little guns
Little armies march, to little drums
What do they want?
What do they want?
Tiny soldiers, with little guns
Little tanks, no bigger than your thumb
They want you
Little people, with tiny brains
Little bullets flowing, in their veins
What do they want?
What do they want?
Tiny people with little guns
Little armies march, to little drums
They want you, you
You, you, you, you
Little airplanes, with tiny bombs
Little squadrons, dropping thimbles of napalm
They want you
What do they want?
What do they want?
Tiny people, with little guns
Little armies march, to little drums
You, you
You, you, you, you
Tiny people, little guns
Tiny people, little guns
Tiny people, little guns
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I went across the fields to avoid the straight highways, along the firing lines where people were shooting at a small wooded hill, which is now covered with wooden crosses and lines of graves instead of spring flowers.
quote by Max Beckmann
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Melt The Guns
(andy partridge)
Programmes of violence,
As entertainment,
Brings the disease into your room.
We know the germ,
Which is man-made in metal,
Is really a key to your own tomb.
Prevention is better than cure,
Bad apples affecting the pure,
Youll gather your senses Im sure
Then agree to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
Children will want them,
Mothers supply them,
As long as your killers are heroes.
And all the media
Will fiddle while rome burns,
Acting like modern-time neros.
Prevention is better than cure,
Bad apples affecting the pure,
Youll gather your senses Im sure
Then agree to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
Im speaking to the justice league of america.
The u s of a,
Hey you,
Yes you in particular!
When it comes to the judgement day and youre standing at the gates with your weaponry,
You dead go down on one knee,
Clasp your hands in prayer and start quoting me,
cos we say...
Our father weve managed to contain the epidemic in one place, now,
Lets hope they shoot themselves instead of others,
Help to civilize the race now.
Weve trapped the cause of the plague,
In the land of the free and the home of the brave.
If we listen quietly we can hear them shooting from grave to grave.
You ought to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Melt The Guns
(andy partridge)
Programmes of violence,
As entertainment,
Brings the disease into your room.
We know the germ,
Which is man-made in metal,
Is really a key to your own tomb.
Prevention is better than cure,
Bad apples affecting the pure,
Youll gather your senses Im sure
Then agree to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
Children will want them,
Mothers supply them,
As long as your killers are heroes.
And all the media
Will fiddle while rome burns,
Acting like modern-time neros.
Prevention is better than cure,
Bad apples affecting the pure,
Youll gather your senses Im sure
Then agree to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
Im speaking to the justice league of america.
The u s of a,
Hey you,
Yes you in particular!
When it comes to the judgement day and youre standing at the gates with your weaponry,
You dead go down on one knee,
Clasp your hands in prayer and start quoting me,
cos we say...
Our father weve managed to contain the epidemic in one place, now,
Lets hope they shoot themselves instead of others,
Help to civilize the race now.
Weve trapped the cause of the plague,
In the land of the free and the home of the brave.
If we listen quietly we can hear them shooting from grave to grave.
You ought to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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BANG! You're Dead
Games we used to play
With sticks and cap guns
We made noises with our mouths
Of shooting getting shot and dying
There was no crying over who got shot
You could argue that you were only winged
It was not the farm
You bought
'I'm just grazed! '
We could holler
Reload and keep firing
Ammunition was free
If you could scrounge soda bottles
For rolls of caps - - - your saved those shots
For close range for the noise the smoke the smell
For the rest you'd just yelled BANG!
The battle could go on for hours
Without losing anybody
'Til it was time for lunch or dinner
Or to go in for the night
Now it's a differnt game
The word 'Bang' has been replaced
By 'Young Gang Bangers'
Packin' heaters drivin'old beaters
Slingin' meth crack and weed
Watchin others bleed
Reachin' in baggy pants with a steady hand
No control where the bullets land
Sprayin' sayin' signs flashin' talk's trashin'
Makin' their bones throwing caps like stones
Landing where - - - they don't care
The noise - - - the kick - - - the smell
Who can tell
Who's next
Gunpowder
LOUDER
BANG - - - You and you and
You and you and you
Your'll all
DEAD
poem by Tom J. Mariani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Firing-Line
They are creeping on through the cornfields yet, and they clamber amongst the rocks,
Ere they rush to stab with the bayonet and smash with the rifle-stocks.
And many are wounded, many are dead—some reel as if drunk with wine,
And fling them down on a blood-stained bed, and sleep in the firing-line.
And they dream, perhaps, of the days shut back, while the shrapnel shrieks and crashes,
And field-guns hammer and rifles crack, and the blood of a comrade splashes.
In horrible shambles they rest a while from murder by right divine;
They curse or jest, and they frown or smile—and they dream in the firing-line.
In the dreadful din of a ghastly fight they are shooting, murdering, men;
In the smothering silence of ghastly peace we murder with tongue and pen.
Where is heard the tap of the typewriter—where the track of reform they mine—
Where they stand to the frame or the linotype—we are all in the firingline.
Weary and parched in the world-old war we are fighting with quivering nerves;
The dead are our fathers who charged before, and the children are our reserves.
In the world-old war, with the world-old wrongs that shall last while the stars still shine,
My comrades and I, who would sing their songs, are all in the firing-line.
There are some of us cowards who hug the ground, and some of us reckless who jest;
And some of us careless who slumber sound, and some of us weary who rest.
There are some of us dreamers, whose beds seem soft, and O heart! O friend of mine!
The brightest and bravest of earth too oft lie drunk in the firing-line.
But the sleeper may wake ere the fort we storm, and the coward be first to dare,
And the weak grow strong, and the drunkard reform, and the dreamer strike hardest there.
God give me strength in my country’s need, though shame and disgrace be mine,
And death be certain, to rise and lead when we charge from the firing-line.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Endorsed Remorse
He was not shooting at the people.
He was shooting at the world.
He wasn't shooting in specifics,
It was from a random frustration...
He unleashed to unfurl.
And everytime I hear these excuses,
Made in the defense of these social misfits...
I've come to realize how quick some are,
To apply their comprehension...
For a call for all,
To forgive their embarrassments!
He was not shooting at the people.
He was shooting at the world.
He wasn't shooting in specifics,
It was from a random frustration...
He unleashed to unfurl.
And psychologists are called,
To calm a public fed on decadence.
With attention to examine...
Their lifestyles spent in ignorance,
But no one should pay at their own expense.
And with accepted intelligence,
The media gives them time to explain...
How certain people amongst them live...
Suffer from stress,
That makes them temporarily insane.
He was not shooting at the people.
He was shooting at the world.
He wasn't shooting in specifics,
It was from a random frustration...
He unleashed to unfurl.
And the business of depicting their enemies,
Continues with alerted threats.
Yet no one with this deluded mindset,
Is described as a terrorist.
With a face splashed over the news,
With a demeaning of their ethnic heritage...
Exclaimed to diminish and to disrespect.
But...
He was not shooting at the people.
He was shooting at the world.
He wasn't shooting in specifics,
It was from a random frustration...
He unleashed to unfurl.
And all need to empathize,
In reminded sympathy
With the giving to him...
Our endorsed remorse.
Especially in 'his' hour of need!
'Huh? '
He is not responsbile.
Our lack to befriend him...
Has resulted in his acts.
'And the others? '
What about the others?
They have the look,
We have decided as guilt.
They have that guilty presence...
They and the rest of their ilk.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wishing on a shooting star
I wished upon a shooting star
As it went through the sky,
I wished upon a shooting star
As it shot right by.
I wished upon a shooting star
That my prayers would all come true,
I wished upon a shooting star
And then I thought of you.
I wished upon a shooting star
And noticed I was crying,
I wished upon a shooting star
And realized I was dying.
I wished upon a shooting star
But my wish never came true,
I wished upon a shooting star
And hoped it would get me through.
I wished upon a shooting star
That the she would still be there,
I wished upon a shooting star
That she would always care.
I wished upon a shooting star
Here in this night sky,
I wished upon a shooting star
That our love will never die.
poem by Xx Charmer Xx
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kid to Soldier
Little Boy, young man
playing guns, shooting guns
having fun, learning runs
little scout, recon scout
playing war, living war
making sounds, shooting rounds
finding friends, finding rebels
running thru sprinklers, running thru gun fire
screaming fun, Screaming pain
living life, surviving life
we are one, one and all
from boy to man
from playing soldier to fighting soldier
home to Mom, home to love
we welcome you home our little man
poem by Michael Peterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shooting Star
All the people had their share of the glory
Looking out after you
Its just a story about winners and glory
And you know that its true
Ah ha, oh yeah, youre just a shooting star
Ah ha, oh yeah, youre just a shooting star
Some men may glory from a different condition
Of another car
And later persuasion would permit the arranging
Of a ...
And to cause more confusion, and to make this illusion
Would have gone too far
And its my ambition, of a jacket ignition
In a cadillac metal car
Ah ha, oh yeah, youre just a shooting star
Ah ha, oh yeah, youre just a shooting star
Ah ha, oh yeah, youre just a shooting star
Ah ha, oh yeah, youre just a shooting star
Youre just a shooting star
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cassinga
Just like spring when the blue sky is full of falling leaves,
there are three hundred and seventy parachutes that decent,
on a ominous day
with enemy AA-guns reporting
and the enemy are more
than a thousand and a half in number.
The barrels of the enemy AA-guns are lowered,
to break us
and the enemy tries to sow havoc
and to decimate us.
Enemy snipers are shooting from trees
and from everywhere
there are shots being fired,
that munches pieces from us
From behind ruins
we fire almost endlessly
at trenches where some enemy soldiers hide
and launch mortar bombs
all over the place,
while bullets are coming down like rain.
We return heavy fire
to the enemy at the AA-guns,
while other soldiers replace them
which keeps the battle hanging in balance
Shot after shot are being fired
and the smell of death
is strong in the air
and there’s nowhere
for the enemy to escape to.
The last resistance disappears
and there’s apparent peace
and dead enemies everywhere
and some of the bats,
get into pumas
and the rest of us wait
with nowhere to go.
The border is too far to walk
and there’s nothing to drive away with,
when Cuban tanks and armoured cars
find us there.
.
With RPG-7 iron fists
four tanks are destroyed
and a landmine stops another tank in its tracks,
but only paratroops against oncoming armour
are canon feed
and nothing diminishes the danger
of a Cuban mechanized battalion.
Till two Mirages destroys ten armoured cars
and everywhere there’s smoke and dust
and a Buccaneer comes from the sun,
to let moments turn into eternity.
Time after time
it flashes by and fires its rockets
at the oncoming tanks
and with no ammo left,
dives fearlessly over shooting AA-guns
to make the tanks take cover.
It’s very ruff going
but the last pumas land
in a clouds of dust,
to evacuate us
while enemy tanks keep firing.
I try and hold the rearguard with a LMG
before the shot out ruins fades away from me
and we leave forty living enemies behind
and all of us are safely gone,
but for four brave men
whose lives are spent.
[References: AA-guns=> Anti aircraft guns. Bats=>Parabats=>Airbourne soldiers. RPG-7 iron fists=> Rocket propelled grenade launchers=> Bazookas. Mirages=> Mirage fighter jets. Buccaneer=> Buccaneer ground support bomber. Pumas=> Puma helicopters. LMG=> Light machinegun.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Quickfire Terrorists
If you don't curl up and die for killing people
by blasting bombs and shooting with modern guns
or hitting with small air-crafts on a steeple,
You belong to the clans of Satan's sons.
You expel yourself from your religion.
See that brute from human manners off he runs!
Don't boast that you're of an arrogant legion.
Any racial or terror garb you may don.
If the weak take guns, you're to them a pigeon.
To nod to suicide-pacts, your blind faith they con
and get you with codes in primitive times born.
Strive to lift the poor whose parents dead and gone.
Drugs they chew to drive out of their minds, fear
but to kill, will any God license you, dear?
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Split Moment Between..
the split moment between, when the tide comes in, and the tide goes out... that is god! the split moment between, the tears of a child, and the body of the old man being buried, that is god! the split moment between, the firing of the big guns, and the laying down of weapons, that is god! the split moment between, the firing of the revolver, and the prison door clanging shut, that is god! the split moment between, ejaculation and childbirth, that is god! the split moment between, the rise of a civilization, and its downfall, that is god! the split moment between, remorse, repentence, responsibility, and prayer, that is god! the split moment between, falling in love, and saying goodbye, that is god! the split moment between, nakedness and truth, that is god! the split moment between, loss and giving, that is god! the split moment between, darkness and dawn.... well you know!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On the one hand, the guns were there to help capture the imagination of the people. But more important, since we knew that you couldn't observe the police without guns, we took our guns with us to let the police know that we have an equalizer.
quote by Bobby Seale
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Guns are near!
Guns are here, guns are there
Guns are the future
The one, which is near
Firearms
People killed
Hero’s shot
Hero’s healed
Honours given to those who died
Those who saved
Who sacrificed
Loading guns
Aiming fire
Preparing to shoot
The vital other
Never knowing the enemy
Never getting attached
To a single human
In several countries
Or Iraq
Knowing that life
Is a gift to them
Knowing that life is short
I’m sure many a people would say
Go on
What harm can it do?
Give life a shot! ! !
poem by Ruth Rayment
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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