Bullets
As bullets come to us they're thin,
They're angular, or smooth and fat,
Some spiral are, and gimlet in,
And some are sharp, and others flat.
The slim one pink you clean and neat,
The flat ones bat a solid blow
Much as a camel throws his feet,
And leave you beastly incomplete.
If lucky you don't know it through.
The flitting bullets flow and flock;
They twitter as they pass;
They're picking at the solid rock,
They're rooting in the grass.
A tiny ballet swiftly throws
Its gossamer of rust,
Brown fairies on their little toes
A-dancing in the dust.
You cower down when first they come
With snaky whispers at your ear;
And when like swarming bees they hum
You know the tinkling chill of fear.
A whining thing will pluck your heel,
A whirring insect sting your shin;
You shrink to half your size, and feel
The ripples o'er your body seal-
'Tis terror walking in your skin!
The bullets pelt like winter hail,
The whistle and they sigh,
They shrill like cordage in a gale,
Like mewing kittens cry;
They hiss and spit, they purring come;
Or, silent all a span,
They rap, as on a slackened drum,
The dab that kills a man.
Rage takes you next. All hot your face
The bitter void, and curses leap
From pincered teeth. The wide, still space
Whence all these leaden devil's sweep
Is Tophet. Fiends by day and night
Are groping for your heart to sate
In blood their diabolic spite.
You shoot in idiot delight,
Each winging slug a hymn of hate.
The futile bullets scratch and go,
They chortle and the coo.
I laugh my scorn, for now I know
The thing they cannot do.
They flit like midges in the sun,
But howso thick they be
What matter, since there is not one
That God has marked for me!
An Eastern old philosophy
Come home at length and passion stills-
The thing will be that is to be,
And all must come as Heaven wills.
Where in the swelter and the flame
The new, hot, shining bullets drip;
One in the many has an aim,
Inwove a visage and a name-
No man may give his fate the slip!
The bullets thrill along the breeze,
They drum upon the bags,
They tweak your ear, your hair they tease,
And peck your sleeve to rags.
Their voices may no more annoy-
I chortle at the call:
The bullet that is mine, my boy,
I shall not hear at all!
The war's a flutter very like
The tickets that we took from Tatt.
Quite possibly I'll make a strike;
The odds are all opposed to that.
Behind the dawn the Furies sway
The mighty globe from which to get
Those bullets which throughout the day
Will winners be to break or slay.
I have not struck a starter yet
The busy bullets rise and flock;
They whistle as they pass;
They're chipping at the solid rock,
They're skipping in the grass.
Out there the tiny dancers throw
Their sober skirts of rust,
Brown flitting figures tipping toe
Along the golden dust.
poem by Edward George Dyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Before The Bullets Fly
You know I hate to leave you babe
But I just cant waste my time....
Well youve got this jealous husband
And Im far too young to die,
I must move on away from here
Just before the bullets fly
Ive always been a gabler
Takin chances all my life....
Always smashin those love affairs
Just like shootin dice,
I staged the game girl
Thats what keeps me satisfied
And I can leave it in the nick of time
Just before the bullets fly
Solo
I lost my first bet
When I was twenty-one
Found myself in new orleans
On the wrong end of a gun....
The stakes keep getting higher......
But somehow I survive,
By knowin when the need became
Just before the bullets fly
Im knowing when the need became
Just before the bullets fly
Im knowing when the need became
Just before the bullets fly
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Sapphire Bullets Of Pure Love
Pistol shots
Gun shots
Pistol shots
Gun shots
Bullets from a revolver
Bullets from a gun
Bullets through the atmosphere
Here they come
John, Ive been bad
And theyre coming after me
Done someone wrong
And I fear that it was me
Sapphire bullets
Bullets of pure love
Sapphire bullets
Bullets of pure love
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
When Bullets Speak
When bullets speak
It ushers Silence
As all become weak
End of the sentence.
When bullets speak
More blood will flow
There's no Peace to seek
More Wars will grow.
When bullets speak
No one to counter
For the dead are meek
Lie in surrender.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What makes a hero?
Be assured
It is no glamorous thing
Dirt and sweat
Blood and tears
Ammo and camouflage
Bullets and blood
Tears and pain
Danger and death
These are the makings
Of a hero
A hero does not boast or brag
He is strong and silent
He works swiftly and with skill
Amidst turmoil
With bullets flying all around him
He looks past the danger
He who kills with bullets will die by bullets.
Gimme Back My Bullets
(allen collins -- ronnie vanzant)
Life is so strange when its changin, yes indeed
Well Ive seen the hard times and the pressures been on me
But I keep on workin like the workin man do
And Ive got my act together, gonna walk all over you
(chorus)
Gimme back my bullets
Put em back where they belong
Aint foolin around cause I done had my fun
Aint gonna see no more damage done
Gimme back my bullets
Sweet talkin people done ran me out of town
And I drank enough whiskey to float a battleship around
But Im leavin this game one step ahead of you
And you will not hear me cry cause I do not sing the blues
(chorus)
Gimme back my bullets
Put em back where they belong
Aint foolin around cause I done had my fun
Aint gonna see no more damage done
Gimme back, gimme back my bullets
Oh, put em back... where they belong
Been up and down since I turned seventeen
Well Ive been on top, and then it seems I lost my dream
But I got it back, Im feelin better everyday
Tell all those pencil pushers, better get out of my way
(chorus)
Gimme back my bullets
Put em back where they belong
Aint foolin around, cause I done had my fun
Aint gonna see no more damage done
Gimme back, gimme back my bullets
Oh put em back where they belong
Gimme back my bullets
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Washington Bullets are changing their name. They don't want their team to be associated with crime. From now on, they'll just be known as the Bullets.
Tears Dont Fall
Tears dont fall.
they crash around me.
Like miniture bullets
peircing the heart
Take aim and fire
and cry your tears
while i bleed red
its what i deserve
I asked for perfection
and blamed my faults on you
I gave you the blame
And broke your heart
So cry your tears
and fire your bullets
aim at my heart
and hope I die
Take aim and fire
with your bullets'
cause tears dont fall
but crash around me.
poem by Silence Dogood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Trench charge
Firing from his hip he was running,
with the light machinegun kicking
dressed in a brown army uniform
running towards a trench
while bullets whistled, swished past him
with some kicking up dust around him
and like a machine functioning
at perfect speed and timing
he lobbed a grenade
somewhat like a cricket ball
but with a deadly sting
into the trench
before dropping behind a small stone wall
waiting for the explosive cracking sound
giving instructions with hand signs
to the troops that followed him
and when it came
he let of a few bursts
with the light machinegun
on its folded out stand
before half-terrified, filled with adrenaline
he started running again
with his troops following him,
shooting from the hip
and at the enemy trench
jumps straight in
spraying soldiers dressed in olive green
with flaming hot bullets,
smelling the fumes of cordite,
mixed with sand and death
with every breath burning
in his chest and throat
without time to really think,
just to comprehend
and to react, noting dust flying
from the wall next to his head
were passing enemy bullets were slamming.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We Cry for Food and They Give Us Bullets
Food! Food! Food!
It is all that we need
It is all that we need
to calm down our spirits!
It is food that fills
that fills the empty pangs
of our stomachs,
pangs that make us yawn
but cannot sleep
that make us gulp
but cannot vomit,
that make our saliva
taste sour and acidic!
We cry for food
like the helpless little children
with the art to attract attention
by our street demonstrations.
Yes, we cry for food like little children
to calm down our spirits,
that the cry cannot at all be neglected
for it is food,
it is food that soothes our spirits.
But you give us bullets
on the streets where we stage
our cry for food
You give us bullets
instead of food.
But even bullets cannot silence
our cry for food
for as long as we`re hungry
we shall be like little children
that will ever cry for food.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lay Down Your Arms
Lay down your arms and don't fight! !
For, true love is better than the bullets of war!
Think and reason up!
For, true love is better than the bullets of war!
So, we need to live in peace than fighting each other!
All in the name of who wants to be first.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Fate Decided
D day
The icy spray of the sea
The soft murmur of men
The retailing of packs
The wait of mine secured on my back
My fate decided
The blow of a whistle
The thump of the 88`s letting lose
The rattle of bullets hitting the boat
The caused cry
The scream of men
The roar of metal ripping apart
My fate decided
The boat stoping
The men confused
The red water linking in
The ramp is opening
My fate decided
The whistles blown
The line a broken
Pushing men not wanting to leave
The water red and cold
The pounding of bullets
The scream of men all around
My fate decided
Blood bleached sand thick and red
My rifle a swung on my back
The clocking of wet rifles
The explosion of a boat
The cry of men, metal and guns
My fate decided
The sicken sight
The feeling worse
The pounding of feet
The rocks
Can we make it?
My fate decided
The rifle unsung
The rocks and shelter still far away
Can we make it?
Falling men hitting hard to the dirt
Is this where we should all now lay?
My fate decided
The shade of the towering stones
Now directly over me
Have I made it?
Yes voice from nowhere bellowed
On your feet a war to fight
Find the strength I think I might
My fate decided
Men still falling, still crying, still screaming in pain
I am here fine feeling only a dull numbness
Rifle clocked and ready to go
Firing on impulse as it would seem
Another round shot another man falls
The bullets flying all around
Hit men and picking them off at a steady past
Claiming their targets resting place
My fate decided
Stumbling into the trench
On top of the men which had fired at us not long ago
Their resting place now sealed in a bloody hole of mud and grit
Would this be me?
My fate decided
The loading of a rifle
Pulling me back to reality
To the blood soaked uniform
To the job at hand
To the war we must fight
My fate decided
poem by Mike Cochrane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rubber Bullets/sngl/bonus
10cc - rubber bullets
---------------------
I went to a party at the local county jail
All the cons were dancing and the band began to wail
But the guys were indiscreet
They were brawling in the street
At the local dance at the local county jail
Well the band were playing
And the booze began to flow
But the sound came over on the police car radio
Down at precinct 49
Having a tear-gas of a time
Sergeant baker got a call from the governor of the county jail
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
I love to hear those convicts squeal
It's a shame these slugs ain't real
But we can't have dancin' at the local county jail
Sergeant baker and his men made a bee-line for the jail
And for miles around
You could hear the sirens wail
There's a rumor goin' round death row
That a fuse is gonna blow
At the local hop at the local county jail
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Sergeant baker started talkin'
With a bullhorn in his hand
He was cool, he was clear
He was always in command
He said "blood will flow;
Here padre
Padre you talk to your boys..."
"trust in me -
God will come to set you free"
Well we don't understand
Why you called in the national guard
When uncle sam is the one
Who belongs in the exercise yard
We all got balls and brains
But some's got balls and chains
At the local dance at the local county jail
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
Is it really such a crime
For a guy to spend his time
At the local dance at the local county jail
At the local dance at the local county jail
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
When I Died
The day they won,
i picked up a gun
3 bullets to the head
Pride,
strength,
courage
then i was dead
When i died,
irealized
i was the one who pulled the trigger,
and the digger,
of my own grave
3 bullets
1-pride; denying pain i hide
2-the strength; to defend what i feel inside
3-the courage to have pride
so away i went...
into the light
inspite that i might,
seek answers
get my questions answered
with out sticker shock
or again getting shot
but im already dead so who cares?
who cares,
that i still have nightmares
cuz i'm dead,
and i the one who behead
myself
when i died i took 3 bullets to the head
pride,
strength,
courage,
and still lying here, DEAD
poem by Brittney Phillips
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Boy Soldier and The Military Man
Let the boy ridicule the military man,
How cruel could words be uttered in Afghanistan.
Akimbo with all spitefulness, like a rascal son;
And booming with hatred and abomination.
Lend him to argument of rigorous use,
And let the boy address the military man for a truce.
Or give him bullets whose solid teeth,
Are piercing and sharp for perhaps a ‘wreath’.
For his teeth appear to be across his face,
Showing from grinning, there in case
The serviceman decides to shoot the boy-soldier
From his spot, and deliver himself from danger.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Return Of The Crow
I awoke
With three bullets in my back,
in a dark and cold tunnel
from a time I don't know
I walked for eternity
to find my way home
The spirits of the past
guiding my path
One was called Peter
He tended my wounds
All is life he said he'd seen me
walk this path
Thirtyfive years before I was born
he said he'd seen my soul
He guided me to daylight
and said it's now time to rise
Rise like the crow
Go seek your revenge
Lay three bullets
in their hands
Watch their souls
Turn to sand
poem by Dave Alan Walker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When A Hero Comes
When a hero comes
There'll be no more fear
When our hero comes
No longer will we shed tears
When that hero comes
They'll pave the way
To a brighter and better day
When a hero comes
When our hero arrives
Evil better beware
You better be prepared
Cause the bullets will rip through the air
When a hero comes
Now you better get ready
Cause its starting soon
And our hero will arrive at high noon
Cause when our hero comes
You better listen to what I say
Or you'll forfeit your life today
And now our hero comes
And now here he comes
To end all of our pain
And now that he's come
He'll clear away the stain
Cause our hero's come
And as the bullets fly
We will hear them cry
And finally the evil will die
Cause our hero came
poem by Vasto Grom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Basic training out of the eyes of a trooper
Encamped upon a plain
raw recruits twelve companies strong
run up and down to every fence,
crawl through ash holes
with live bullets buzzing overhead
while instructors with continuous curses
and sarcasm drives them on.
National servicemen called up
like ants in a crowd
loose individuality,
become just numbers,
are barbered with hair cut
prisoner style and length
and dressed in brown overalls
and plastic green helmets.
The food is gut wrenching
and slops into everything else
on a silver tray
and gives everybody stomach flue.
Every platoon has a PTI-corporal
who lets you run,
fall and crawl
the whole day long
and laughs when you bleed.
At times people wonder
from under what rock,
or out of what hole
did that that bugger crawl?
Some inspections
in the middle of the night
leaves cupboards and beds
strewn upon the floor,
although every thing
is just right
and clean and sharp
with punisment following immediately.
It’s a hell of a thing
with buddy pt, running
with poles and truck tires
till one day,
that you are super fit
and laugh at the idiot
with the stripes.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love The Wild Swan
"I hate my verses, every line, every word.
Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try
One grass-blade's curve, or the throat of one bird
That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky.
Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch
One color, one glinting
Hash, of the splendor of things.
Unlucky hunter, Oh bullets of wax,
The lion beauty, the wild-swan wings, the storm of the wings."
--This wild swan of a world is no hunter's game.
Better bullets than yours would miss the white breast
Better mirrors than yours would crack in the flame.
Does it matter whether you hate your . . . self?
At least Love your eyes that can see, your mind that can
Hear the music, the thunder of the wings. Love the wild swan.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bullets And Kisses
My bullets are kisses.
Let me send them to everyone of you.
Let them poison the very essence of your soul.
Let me claim another victim.
Let me dig another grave of the forgotten.
Memories dead, stale, and rotten.
Heat seeking missile are only sent destroy.
Man less drones are deployed.
Books to a religion burned.
Peace will be destroyed.
It is impossible to avoid.
Unrest on steroids.
My bullets are kisses.
Let me send them to everyone of you.
Let them poison the very essence of your soul.
Let me claim another victim.
Let me dig another grave of the forgotten.
Memories dead, stale, and rotten.
You want to trust and be trusted.
But you have no understanding of a culture.
You disrespect it everyday.
You create martyrs by your mistakes.
With every action you make it just escalates.
Fear spreads like fire in a very drought ridden forest.
Let me ask you how do you plan on exactly putting out?
My bullets are kisses.
Let me send them to everyone of you.
Let them poison the very essence of your soul.
Let me claim another victim.
Let me dig another grave of the forgotten.
Memories dead, stale, and rotten.
You must get out.
It was never your responsibility.
We are not the divinity.
We are not here to save you.
With so much blood on our hands how can we still be wearing that cape?
Do we not understand what is at stake?
We just continue to create pure hate.
My bullets are kisses.
Let me send them to everyone of you.
Let them poison the very essence of your soul.
Let me claim another victim.
Let me dig another grave of the forgotten.
Memories dead, stale, and rotten.
Greed is why we are sending our soldiers away from home.
Controlling chaos.
A symphony of stealing while their not looking.
If we are their long enough soon or later we will corrupt.
And that´s just little messed up.
My bullets are kisses.
Let me send them to everyone of you.
Let them poison the very essence of your soul.
Let me claim another victim.
Let me dig another grave of the forgotten.
Memories dead, stale, and rotten.
Slavery can be bought and sold.
Back door deals.
A fake government at least thats the way the people feel.
And are they really that off target?
After all they are the are people.
A pulse beating, breathing life into their own country.
My bullets are kisses.
Let me send them to everyone of you.
Let them poison the very essence of your soul.
Let me claim another victim.
Let me dig another grave of the forgotten.
Memories dead, stale, and rotten...,
Yes they are already dead, stale, and rotten.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!