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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 Religious Terror and the Horror of Drug Addiction

The Religious Terror and the Horror of Drug Addiction

The ghouls of religious terror
eat the corpses of the poorfolk
shot by the guns or got into the fireball
of the blasting suicide-bombers,
from India to Iraq, the lands
trodden on by Alexander, the Great.
Those who are poor in education and gold,
ought to be born and bred as patriots
and die as martyrs in the lands where they are.

When we visit the nations of the whites
we goggle our eyes seeing the drugs-taken,
men and women kiss and embrace in open
with their children following their trail and smiling.
The drug addicts scare the people in their houses,
and at times jump down into the rivers and die,
along with their children to shock the world.
Broken life leads them to consume drugs
and roll into the hell from which relief denied.

Most of the nations are haunted by
the ghosts of drug abuse.
The goblins of child porn will corrode
the moral fabric of life and we are in the grip
of third world war in which the drugs are the killers!
-------------

poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rid Off Bigots

Harmonious thoughts alone
Could keep this earth meek and shrewd.
A secular cult will bring
peace and ease to all.

Harrowing brutish minds
with narrowing preachings are
engaged in shooting and
killing spree…..
Matured people die
maimed kids say bye.
Merging all the religions will
bury the bombs and guns at once.
Idiotic, brains will harm
and kill those who have no arms
of the whole human race.
(Harmonous….shrewd)

Millenniums two have gone;
still you sing slogans same.
When will you change and improve
in this world?
Morons will not think;
the morose will not change.
A morsel of food for which
children fight and take to guns.
Imbibe good holy truths
enoy your stay on earth
with lasting brimful mirth.
( Harmonious…..shrewd) .

poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Argument

IT is like our guns.
We do not need it
to kill,
killing is not at all times
illegal,
self-defense for instance
our way of defending ourselves
from the assassins
the hired killers and the
mercenaries of
modern times,

the law on divorce for
instance
who likes a divorce?
you do not marry only
to think that
you have to be separated
from the one you love
someday

but there comes a time
when you need it
and you cannot use it
because it
is not there

and you will regret
not allowing it in the system

just like a condom
who likes a condom?
it is a wall between us
our flesh not touching
each other

but there are times
when you need it
because there is that need
and you have to be safe

who needs guns, condoms,
divorce?
it a matter of choice
so bring them in,
let the man in his wisdom
choose
let him be responsible

there is nothing human more
than us
who can deny
the options available in this world
it is fair
make all these available
so when you need them
you can avail of
them

let the options be myriad
for in all these activities of choices
or choosing
we become more
human
and even more divine
in what we really want to become....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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A War Raging On

There's a war raging on
Though I know not where
There are people fighting
Though they do not care
Soldiers are fighting
Mothers are crying
Fathers are preaching
For their sons are dying,
For their is a war killing
And no one really cares.

There's bullets shooting
As I see the guns loading
And there's planes flying
For I feel the bombs exploding,
I see war and I see blood
And death upon the sand
There's hunger and death
I still see in His hand,
For there's people killing
As I see the blood flowing.

There's soldiers marching
For I hear them coming
The killing is flowing
For I see the children running,
There are people being shot
Poets getting caught
Murderers being sought
Lessons again being taught,
For there is a war raging
As the soldiers are hunting.

There is a war coming
For I hear the horns blowing
There is more killing coming
For I see the hate growing,
Children are getting killed
Burying bombs in the fields
Land is being destroyed
Mountains are becoming hills,
For there is a war coming
For I see the hate showing.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What is to Be Done

'Readers attempting to associate the poem’s ideas with its writer’s life or thoughts will be wasting their time; readers attempting to find a moral in it will sadly find nothing.'

I say nothing to be done
They retort, “Where have hope and happiness gone? ”
I persist: noting to be done
No fun; everything is gone
Nothing to be done
Your son has gone
Your son has a gun
Your son has run
Your son won a gun

What is to be done?
“Faith can do the job,
Faith can be the beacon of hope
Faith can lift the burden of stress”
I respond:
Faith can be faked by some
Faith can be exploited by some
Faith can be the pretext for killing some

What is to be done?
Where have people gone?
Tell me where they have gone!
Enlighten me where they have run!
Do not you dare say “they still have sons and guns! ”

But in the end, something can be done
With faith everything can be done
But it has to be carried out by everyone
Otherwise, nothing to be done

poem by Refai Tommas
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A Babe's Requiem

Wars are fought by babes with a gun,
fought by them but never won.
Taught to think that war is just,
to preserve freedom is a must.

So off they march to foreign lands
and soon they're mired with bloody hands,
praying that what they're doing is right,
shooting and killing both day and night.

While back at home we continue to buy
and let the flags continue to fly.
Reading the news, watching the scenes
not understanding, it only demeans

What human life is all about.
Why babes were born and how they've turned out.
Pointing the finger at imaginary foes,
forgetting to point at the white shirts of those

who plan these wars way in advance.
How do our babes even stand a chance?
They play with guns from the age of three.
Can't their parents wake up and see?

In foreign lands the parents do weep
watching in horror as their babes go to sleep,
never to awaken and breathe in again
the air in Iraq or Afghanistan.

How is it the babes of those in power
are not involved? In fact they do cower,
hiding behind the white shirts that lead,
never having to fear they might bleed.

Wars are not games that big people play.
The guns are given to the babes everyday.
No lullabies will be sung for them.
The song for these babes is a requiem.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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People are afraid

People are afraid
of the year 2012 that are coming
and expect something to happen
that is going to tear the world apart,
but maybe man himself
is his greatest enemy.

At times I wonder about guns
killing in Afghanistan and Iraq
and bombs dropping from bombers
there on people

while a super power
like before
stand free from her deeds
and of nuclear bombs
exploding on Hiroshima and Nagasaki

not a lot is said about
and people look only
at the inhumanities
of Hitler and Stalin
and almost nothing
is said about Harry S. Truman.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We might be on the brink of an apocalypse if, instead of poor people with suicide bombs killing middle class guys, middle-class people with suicide bombs started killing rich guys.

quote by Bruce Sterling
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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The Widow At Windsor

'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor
With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead?
She 'as ships on the foam -- she 'as millions at 'ome,
An' she pays us poor beggars in red.
(Ow, poor beggars in red!)
There's 'er nick on the cavalry 'orses,
There's 'er mark on the medical stores --
An' 'er troopers you'll find with a fair wind be'ind
That takes us to various wars.
(Poor beggars! -- barbarious wars!)
Then 'ere's to the Widow at Windsor,
An' 'ere's to the stores an' the guns,
The men an' the 'orses what makes up the forces
O' Missis Victorier's sons.
(Poor beggars! Victorier's sons!)

Walk wide o' the Widow at Windsor,
For 'alf o' Creation she owns:
We 'ave bought 'er the same with the sword an' the flame,
An' we've salted it down with our bones.
(Poor beggars! -- it's blue with our bones!)
Hands off o' the sons o' the Widow,
Hands off o' the goods in 'er shop,
For the Kings must come down an' the Emperors frown
When the Widow at Windsor says "Stop"!
(Poor beggars! -- we're sent to say "Stop"!)
Then 'ere's to the Lodge o' the Widow,
From the Pole to the Tropics it runs --
To the Lodge that we tile with the rank an' the file,
An' open in form with the guns.
(Poor beggars! -- it's always they guns!)

We 'ave 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor,
It's safest to let 'er alone:
For 'er sentries we stand by the sea an' the land
Wherever the bugles are blown.
(Poor beggars! -- an' don't we get blown!)
Take 'old o' the Wings o' the Mornin',
An' flop round the earth till you're dead;
But you won't get away from the tune that they play
To the bloomin' old rag over'ead.
(Poor beggars! -- it's 'ot over'ead!)
Then 'ere's to the sons o' the Widow,
Wherever, 'owever they roam.
'Ere's all they desire, an' if they require
A speedy return to their 'ome.
(Poor beggars! -- they'll never see 'ome!)

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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To my Moslem friends

If truly great is the love
of God and man,
why do people
kill themselves
and murder others
with suicide bombs?

Why do they believe
that killing the innocent,
will take them straight
to paradise
and a string of virgins?

Rather most religions teaches
that sinners go
straight to hell,
or did somebody forget
to tell them this?

Do they really think
that there’s glory in killing
and that this monstrous deed
is a kind of virtue?

Somehow when religion
turns to hate,
God is lost from the equation.

poem by Gert Strydom
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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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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
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A Falling Tear

Times of terror,
times of fear,
All these times
have always been here.

For the earth has never
been born of peace.
The bombs have exploded
destroying peace.

Man cannot recognize
vicious ones or vicious lies.
They simply think them away.

But they're not gone.
they're alive and well,
making this world
a living hell.

Times of terror,
times of fear,
They leave nothing
but a falling tear.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Attrition

Men and material are lost by wars.
The terrorists kill with bombs laden cars.
The soldiers shoot them with guns.
The old mourn the loss of sons.
The fury in mind, growth of life, mars.

poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wasteland

Out into the wasteland
Out into the wasteland
No religion
No religion, no religion at all
No religion
No religion, no religion at all
No religion, no religion at all
No religion
No religion, no religion at all
No religion
No religion at all
No religion
Emissionary man amongst the heathen
Cant you see a modern primitive
I came back, Im gonna find,
Im gonna give religion
When there was, no religion at all
Im outta the wasteland
Im into this head man
Im outta the wasteland
No religion at all
Im outta the wasteland
Im into this head man
Im outta the wasteland
No religion, no religion at all
Theres a man in need of resurrection
(no religion)
Cant you see a modern primitive
(no religion)
But Im a man I need my love and
Freedom (no religion)
When there was no freedom at all
Im outta the wasteland
Im into this head man
Im outta the wasteland
No religion at all
Im outta the wasteland
Im into this head man
Im outta the wasteland
No religion, no religion at all
No religion
No religion at all
No religion
No religion at all
In vr land
The future of fun
Tell me what to do
In vr law
Computer crime
Um, so sublime
A fantasy scene
In my machine
Give me secret of life
Let me know, yeah, what I am
And you know that I could get
Outta the wasteland
Im into this head man
Im outta the wasteland
No religion at all
Im outta the wasteland
Im into this head man
Im outta the wasteland
No religion, no religion at all
Im outta the wasteland
So far from the the deadland
Ow, Im outta the wasteland
No religion, no religion yeah
Im outta the wasteland
So far from the the deadland
Yeah, Im outta the wasteland
No religion, no religion at all
No religion, no religion at all
No religion
No religion, no religion at all
No religion
No religion, no religion at all
No religion
No religion, no religion at all
No religion at all
No religion at all
No religion

song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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