When The Break Ensued
The curfew was imposed,
The women, men and children
Of the valley were banned
To come out of the houses.
The whole hot day of June
Was spent in exchange of fire,
The volleys of bullets went overhead
With the buzzing sounds;
Sometime mortars and heavy guns
Came in action too.
The soldiers roved in the deserted streets
All resistant with weapons,
As if the ghosts were discarded,
From the door of purgatory,
And they all came back to launch a war
Against the countrymen.
Their mother and daughters, sisters and wives,
Sitting afar are baffled to think upon,
Whether they would return in persons
Or with silver medals, wrapped in coffins.
Motars, guns instilled fear in the spheres,
No one dared come out of the huts,
The nation remained watching the show on TV,
The commanders remained busy in the lodges
In drinking, eating and chatting.
When tut, tut, tut of the guns Gs III ceased,
And the break in curfew ensued,
The residents of the battled valley
Men, women and children came out of the abodes
With scythes in hands, they ran to the farms,
To harvest over dried wheat-crop,
And to pick over-ripe fruit hanging on the trees.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Guns and their shadows
Under guns and their shadows
amidst men and women and children
life spirit lessens,
innocence suffers,
dream dies,
expectation extincts.
Under guns and their shadows
amidst men and women and children
hopes become horrors,
desires become despairs,
trust becomes tenions,
smiles become sighs.
Under guns and their shadows
amidst men and women and children
word means whispers,
home means house,
homeland means ex land,
freedom means fantasy.
Under guns and their shadows
amidst men and women and children
life still goes on,
some where a force moves on,
binding and blending every one
for guns can spit only fires and not lives.
poem by Manju Shree
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On CNN, I Saw My True Heroes
At the crossroads of my life,
I thought that most of my Heroes
Were dead, killed, tortured or knifed
By some cheap bums or paid sbirroes
Of some barbarous gangs in uniform.
Tonight, I saw the sad events in a different form,
I can honestly tell you more about my true Heroes.
Most are gone, but some are still suffering in Homs,
Under a heartless and ruthless regime; with no homes,
No shelters to hide; they are exposed
To heavy shelling, mortars, and deadly rockets.
Those victims are my people, my brothers
And sisters. They are constantly in my prayers.
Our world, which failed to rescue them, owes them a series of debts.
My Heroes' biggest weapons are their voices.
Their cries will silent the tanks and the Kalashnikov guns,
And, in the name of God, will turn them into babies' toys.
Justice and Liberty will prevail in favor of the sons
And daughters of the Almighty God.
The gangsters ignore that they came from earth and like mud
All shall return to that state. The souls
Of the innocent civilians will head to Heaven,
Accompanied by the army of the Angels,
Meanwhile the oppressors will be thrown in Hell with Satan.
My true Heroes are suffering and dying in Homs;
They have no heavy guns, no shelters and no homes.
Children and men are weeping and dying; women are crying
And being raped; while the Superpowers are simply watching.
poem by Hebert Logerie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Nigerian Biafran War
The Biafrans cry separate
Nigerians cry we are one
The Nigerians and Biafrans
in a royal rumble
For non would submit to humble
as non would come to agreement
so they decided to fumble
and settle themselves on the battle field
The Nigerian soldiers fully prepared
Biafran soldiers thought they were ready
the opposing soldiers were excited
on the day of thier first outing
The soldiers filled with joy
the men filled with hatred
the women filled with fear
and the children with innocence
A bomb blast is heard
the soldiers quack their guns
the men getting ready to attack
the women in absolute confussion
The youths pick up weapons
the children sheding out blood
the soldiers held unto thier triggers
as men fell like woods
The rich flying abroad
the poor into the bush
women and children trampled
while some died at the instance
The children cries are heard
the shout of the women aswell
the grumbling of the men
and the mummuring of the youths
Nigerian soldiers chant their war songs
as they return with Biafrans defeated
though they still cry separate
the echoes of oneness is louder
The bodies of the dead were gathered
and the injured too
non could bear to stand and stare
at the worst of scenes
Women and children cried out thier hearts
the men were left with shocks
as every one reaised that war means death
and the reign of peace brings life
poem by Micheal Udenyi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Take Your Guns To Town
On the eastern highway we ride
Windshield wipers disperse the rain from the sky
Whats left is ivy and vine
All the letters Id sent back home
Never express the idea of how a young man
Can be so far from home
Take your guns to town
Dont take your guns to town
Take your guns to town
Dont take your guns to town
Stumble down main street alone
Just gotten home with my hand on the phone
I was drinking alone on the quilted (? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? )
Take your guns to town
Dont take your guns to town
Take your guns to town
Dont take your guns to town
song performed by by Whiskeytown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Fire Your Guns
Wild beast, Ill make you mine
Taste your kiss, sweet lips devine
She got moves, drips of sweat
She got eyes of blue, body curves
n legs thatll break your nerves
Chorus:
Fire - when shes going down
Fire - then she make you drown
Fire - then she blow you round
Yeah, you want some fun
Fire your guns
Fire your guns
Fire your guns
Fire your guns
That lady bites, hard style
Drips of sex, eyes are wild
She got moves, long long legs
She got eyes of blue, body curves
Legs thatll shake the earth
Chorus
Yeah, you want some fun
You gotta fire your guns
Fire your guns
You gotta fire your guns
Fire your guns
(yeah, yeow!)
Yeah
Chorus
Yeah, you want some fun
Gotta fire your guns
Fire your guns (x9)
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Billy Get Your Guns
I just seen trouble
He's calling out your name tonite
Billy get your guns
You could walk away
But I know you were born to fight
So Billy get your guns
The bandileros are strung out
In the promenade
Billy get your guns
Chorus
Billy get your guns
There's trouble blowing like a hurricane
Billy get your guns
That's the price on your head for the
Price of fame
And it'll never change
Billy get your guns
There's a whiskey bottle empty
Sittin' on the bar
Billy get your guns
And some organ grinder singing
About some sucker moving on
Billy get your guns
All the whores are hanging out
Waiting to get paid
Billy get your guns
From some Johnny on the spot
Who said hey keep the change baby
Billy get your guns
There's trouble blowing like a hurricane
Billy get your guns
That's the price on your head for the
Price of fame
And it'll never change
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Among the Red Guns
Among the red guns,
In the hearts of soldiers
Running free blood
In the long, long campaign:
Dreams go on.
Among the leather saddles,
In the heads of soldiers
Heavy in the wracks and kills
Of all straight fighting:
Dreams go on.
Among the hot muzzles,
In the hands of soldiers
Brought from flesh-folds of women--
Soft amid the blood and crying--
In all your hearts and heads
Among the guns and saddles and muzzles:
Dreams,
Dreams go on,
Out of the dead on their backs,
Broken and no use any more:
Dreams of the way and the end go on.
poem by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
listening to Bob Marley's exodus
i reminisce the power of the people
clenched fists of the masses
sisters and brothers
nuns and priests holding arm to arm
children in the streets bringing flowers to the soldiers
women bringing food for the marchers
tanks and guns face
and furious words of the dictator
i reminisce the ouster of the oppressor of the people
i see the plane carrying him out to another faraway island
no blood is shed
the flowers have power
the prayers have weight
the masses have the voice
God watching over.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Many Inventions
'Less you want your toes trod of you'd better get back at once,
For the bullocks are walking two by two,
The byles are walking two by two,
And the elephants bring the guns.
Ho! Yuss!
Great-big-long-black-forty-pounder guns.
Jiggery-jolty to and fro,
Each as big as a launch in tow --
Blind-dumb-broad-breeched--beggars o' battering-guns!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Songs of the Lathes
The fans and the beltings they roar round me.
The power is shaking the floor round me
Till the lathes pick up their duty and the midnight-shift takes over.
It is good for me to be here!
Guns in Flanders--Flanders guns!
(I had a man that worked 'em once!)
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders! Feeds the guns!
The cranes and the carriers they boom over me,
The bays and the galleries they loom over me,
With their quarter-mile of pillars growing little in the distance--
It is good for me to be here!
The Zeppelins and Gothas they raid over us.
Our lights give warning, and fade over us.
(Seven thousand women keeping quiet in the darkness!)
Oh, it's good for me to be here.
The roofs and the buildings they grow round me,
Eating up the fields I used to know round me;
And the shed that I began in is a sub-inspector's office--
So long have I been here!
I've seen six hundred mornings make our lamps grow dim,
Through the bit that isn't painted round our sky-light rim,
And the sunshine through the window slope according to the seasons,
Twice since I've been here.
The trains on the sidings they call to us
With the hundred thousand blanks that they haul to us;
And we send 'em what we've finished, and they take it where it's wanted,
For that is why we are here!
Man's hate passes as his love will pass.
God made Woman what she always was.
Them that bear the burden they will never grant forgiveness
So long as they are here!
Once I was a woman, but that's by with me.
All I loved and looked for, it must die with me;
But the Lord has left me over for a servant of the Judgment,
And I serve His Judgments here!
Guns in Flanders--Flanders guns!
(I had a son that worked 'em once!)
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders! Feeds the guns!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Say No to war..
He was just seventeen and four months,
The son of the humble peasant,
Recruited to be the cook in the barracks, but,
Given two grenades to destroy two machine guns,
Strong enemies with imported weapons,
His country fighting for freedom,
Instructed to throw at them,
He crawled to their destination,
The noise from the machine guns,
Deafened the ears of the soldiers,
Then there was silence for a second,
The young man threw one at the first post,
‘allah' the call could be heard,
Mother land soldiers hiding and watching,
The action of the young cook turned a soldier,
Then he threw the second grenade to the second post,
The enemies were annihilated, so was the brave man,
Broken forehead spilled out his brain,
The stream suddenly changed into red saline,
The soldiers ran to rescue the body,
To confer the highest order,
of military honor.
Say No to war.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Soldier's Reality
The drums of war beat in the distance,
A constant beat of gun shots.
The men and boys fighting.
Waiting for the war to end, to go back home.
They sit in the cover of the long grass,
Guns loaded, hearts pounding.
They wait for a signal, a sign,
To rise, run, and fire.
Till then they sit, watching, bullets passing by.
They watch people falling, their lives leaving.
Nothing matters to them except that they live,
That they get to see their family again.
Smoke hangs in the air,
A thick mist that reminds them that they're at war,
Keeping them in reality, keeping their eyes open.
The constant rhythm of guns against heart beats,
Both pounding, both screaming.
The black sky closing in on them,
Keeping them in the small battle that they can not escape,
They move back from the front line,
Move away from the fire, the death.
Some walk, some run, some cry, some pray,
But they all move on.
They all go back to camp, to wait for more death and pain.
For tomorrow.
The talking goes late into the night.
Men and women desperate for happiness,
They sit around guns in hand,
Ready for anything.
The shooting never stops, never leaves their minds,
Even in the depths of this black night,
Nothing ends except the next person's life,
Nothing is right, nothing is normal, nothing feels real,
But in truth and in the midst of everything so surreal,
This is the soldiers reality.
by: bethany M.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Let everyone leave all the guns - British guns and Irish guns - outside the door.
quote by Martin McGuinness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The First Phase
The spheres of inferno hang around the Earth,
Fire in the hearts, flames in the minds,
Fury are the thoughts, horror resides in the souls.
Future is wrapped in the sheets of grimness
Shadows of actual joy fled away from the Earth
Soldiers march in bewilderment without knowing
Least the cause of killing and being killed,
The politicians’ idiosyncrasy has them hypnotized,
The sons, daughters and sweet partners are horrid,
And uncertain whether they will return
Or mingle and mix their blood, their flesh, their bones
Into dust of the craters, trenches of the battleground
Among the scattered carcasses covering all the field.
Lo! Explosions raise the storms of dust,
Bullets make ineffectual leaps to perforate the sky,
Holocaust has begun to descend,
All around the prostitute of Death knocks
Raising the powdered Earth and smoke of explosives
Scanting the noses, burning the eyes,
Cannons shells explode deafening the ears.
The guns that with the fiery mouths
Are gushing forth fire will become silent soon,
The amphitheatre of carcasses will extend beyond the sight.
Ah! They will not return home but their ghosts
To console sons, daughters and partners of life,
Tomorrow the politicians will chatter in the dinning hall,
The first phase to win the election is accomplished.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Kids With Guns
Kids with guns
Kids with guns
Taking over
But it won't be long
They're mesmerized
Skeletons
Kids with guns
Kids with guns
Easy does it, easy does it, they got something to say "no" to
Drinking out (is she real, is she)
Pacifier (is she real, is she)
Demon souls (is she real, is she)
Street desire (is she real, is she)
Didn't mean to (is she real, is she)
But it won't be long (is she real, is she)
Kids with guns
Kids with guns
Easy does it, easy does it, they got something to say "no" to
And they turn into monsters
Turning us into fire
Turning us into monsters
It's all desire
It's all desire
It's all desire
Drinking out
Pacifier
Sinking soul
There you are
Doesn't make side to
But it won't be long
Cause kids with guns
Kids with guns
Easy does it, easy does it, they got something to say "no" to
And they turn into monsters
Turning us into fire
Turning us into monsters
It's all desire
It's all desire
It's all desire
Is she, is she real, is she
Is she real, is she (it's real)
Is she, is she real, is she
Is she real, is she (it's real)
[etc]
Is she is she real
song performed by by Gorillaz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Your Guns
Rivers, trees and the law had received the dead;
And from the very act of the guns in your hands,
But try to replace your guns with pens to write with.
It is like an elusive commodity to hold at last,
But with an untrammelled rowdy as a culture;
For you are my heart'sd fream when it comes for love,
And i will live where peace is taught always.
How long can you learn from all these guns? !
I will prefer to live where love is taught also but,
How long will your guns kill each other?
For the earth had taken enough of the dead.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!