AK 47

unleashing the rounds;

enemies all around


Ak 47


terrorists be trying to terrorize


But they all dead


No more false ideas


Ak 47: enemies weapon


Wrecking the hostiles


Ak 47: commandeering the gun


no more complaints


Mission accomplished

Issue solved

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Self Defense

Buy a gun:

don't take a chance,

if you got to shit take,

then a target will be plant


So don't be a fool

and think everything

is going to be ok,

because when shit hits the fan,

your going to want

to have a weapon

to save the day. 







Author's Notes/Comments: 

Don't be a victim, defend yourself from criminals. 

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Why do you wear
your guns back to front
in the holsters?
Helen asked me


as we walked
the bomb site
by Meadow Row
I saw this cowboy


in a film
at the cinema
have his like this
and you cross


your hands over
and get your guns
isn't it slower
that way?


she asked
no it's speed that matters
not how
you wear your guns


I said
I showed her
how quick I was
and she stood bemused


clutching her doll
Battered Betty
tightly to her chest
haven't you got


caps in your guns
to make them
sound real?
she asked


no I ran out
and anyway
I can make
the sound myself


by going
she jumped away
holding Battered Betty


to her chest
you could have told me
you were going
to make that loud


banging noise
Betty got frightened
I looked at her
tightly woven plaits


of hair
and thick lens glasses
and her small hands
holding the doll


sorry Betty
I said
patting the doll's head
I put the guns away


and we walked
to the New Kent Road
and along
under the railway bridge


and by the Trocadero cinema
gazing at the billboards
and small pictures
of films


being shown
you can come
with me here
on Saturday


I said
they've got
a good cowboy film


haven't any money
for the cinema
Mum said
she can't afford it


Helen said
my old man'll
cough up some money
if I ask


I said
she looked at me
Mum'll let me go
if you ask her


Helen said
ok let's go
ask her now
I said


so we walked
to Helen's house
and I told her
about how I practised


drawing my guns
she looked at Betty
but whether


she was listening
to me
or not
I couldn't say.

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My father's hunting passion (guns)


It has been a while since the last time I saw them, but my dad has them all in a safe. From rifles to handguns, my father has had a lot of guns since I was a kid. He became a hunter before my parents got married, 20 years ago. Hunting season lasts from November to January every year and I always remember my mom telling me that my father went hunting even when I got born! My grandfather got so angry at him and scolded him. Since that year, he never goes hunting on my birthday. But after it, he goes every weekend! When the first hunting season weekend comes, he calls his friends to reach an agreement about the car they are going to travel in, he prepares his hunting clothes and, obviously, his beloved guns. Then at 5 am my mom makes him breakfast and he leaves. Sometimes he hunts, sometimes he doesn’t, but he always comes home with a big smile because hunting is his passion. I remember 2010, when traveling at night or very early became dangerous. He missed an entire hunting season. And let me tell you that hunting to my father is like Christmas to a kid! It’s that one thing that he is really looking forward to since February. So, imagine a kid having no Christmas! Although he was sad, he didn’t lose hope. He waited patiently to the next year and he brought a big deer to the house. He used to take us hunting with him too. Well, first he would take us to a shooting range to practice, with handguns and bow and arrow. Then, my sisters and I were there with him just waiting and being quiet in order to not scare the animals, but also very alert in case you see an animal. Then we would help him with the gutting, the storing and the cleaning. But now that we have grown up, we are lazy and we don’t go with him to hunt anymore, but I still like to practice my shooting. I think my father is a really good hunter. Besides his experience and that he always scores in the target, he is very patient and persistent (he waits 4 hours sitting down quietly) Patience is a quality I don’t have but I am trying to learn from him. Actually he is already preparing everything for this year so let’s see how this season turns out.


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My Grandfather's Guns

I remember the day I found them. I was 15. I was looking for a vest in the top of my grandmother’s closet. A brown leather vest that belonged to my grandfather when he was alive. I did find the vest, I did put it on.

I was curious what else could my grandfather left in the top of the closet. I pulled a chair and stood on it so I could look up there.

That’s when I saw the four of them. I didn’t entirely believed what I saw, so I grabbed one.

A cold, stiff, dead piece of Death. 

I had a vest around my chest, and with my right I was holding Death’s left; finding myself in an accidental spaghetti western costume.


It was loaded. Not everyone gets to feel the weight of a loaded one. It’s not just the lead what weights. There’s the whole bang-bang, good-bye thing that weights. There’s every possible gone-wrong that waits. Death had a heavy hand.


But this one was heavier.


My grandfather was a good man. He only studied until second year of elementary school and dropped out to maintain his 10 brothers. He became the richest man in his town with the jewelry business, but he never forgot his humbleness.  He never forgot home, he never forgot his family.

He spent many years making money until he felt he it was enough to look for a woman and satisfy all her whims.

Instead of the whimsical woman he was ready for, he found a simple lady who satisfied his heart.

My grandmother softened the hard man he had become. He didn’t believed in church, but he went to make her happy. He didn’t like to dance, but he followed her because she asked. He had a heavy storm inside, which only ceased by her side.


But this one was heavier.


It was not only the weight of the lead. 

I wasn’t just holing Death’s hand. I was holding an untold story. The top of that closet was not the place to just put things, it was the kind of place you hide them.

It was the weight of a secret.

 Why would Death hold a jeweler’s hands?


My grandfather passed away when I was two years old, I didn’t know him like everybody else.

But holding that cold and wasted piece of metal, I realized I might know a part of my grandfather nobody else did.


The guns are still there.

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I have three grown children all over 30 years of age

And the pride I feel knowing them could fill many a page.


Fatherhood has been one of the most precious feelings I have known

Seeing them as babies and watching how they’ve grown...


Bryan’s about to take a has given him a chance

To visit Iceland; London, England; and even Paris, France.


As I was perusing his itinerary on my computer just today

I saw a story about Londyn...but not spelled the same way.


Londyn was a 1 year old little girl who was just learning how to walk

She loved to smile, what 1 year old doesn’t, and a few words she could talk.


She loved to crawl into her parents laps in the quiet of their house

Did I mention she had a beautiful smile...oh, and she loved Minnie Mouse.


Londyn lived in New Orleans, her mom works in a non-profit cafe

Dedicated to eliminating the violence that cause so many so much dismay.


While Mom was busy working trying to make violence obsolete

Londyn, her little baby, was gunned down in the street.


Her 18 year old babysitter, hired to keep Londyn free from harm

Was shot in the back, the bullet killing Londyn, as she held her in her arms.


I know this country is divided and the gun lobby is strong

But is there any human being out there who doesn’t think that this is wrong?


I don’t have any answers but I wish Londyn would have had the chance

To visit Iceland; London, England; and even Paris, France.


It saddens me to think of all the places she’ll never go

It saddens me that Londyn Samuels will never have the chance to grow.


Londyn’s funeral is today I wish her a fond farewell

Her little life was cut too short too soon, I think it’s bloody hell.


As I wish Bryan bon voyage, and think of the things he’ll see and learn


I also wish what every parent wishes...for his safe return...

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That Place Called School

A place where a person tried to run over me with a car

A place where we apparently can’t bring drugs or we’ll be put behind bars

A place where majority of the kids have no future

A place where no one pays respect to those teachers

A place where I’m stuck eight hours a day

A place where I’m sent to the office if I’m caught getting away

A place where I can’t speak my mind to the idiots who shouldn’t be allowed to live

A place where if I do, I’ll again go to the office for being “offensive”

A place where few are actually themselves

A place where fakes and wannabees dwell

A place where I guess not everyone can be friends

A place where to be cool, you need to keep up with the latest trends

A place where if you’re different you’re labeled a loser

A place where if you’re friends with the different, you’re…..also a loser

A place where I’m shy if I’m quiet, but I’m obnoxious if I’m loud

A place where we all try to fit in with the crowd

A place where people care too much about the little things

 A place where we’re all happy when the bell rings



“Always happy, happy and happy”




Received with gratitude


The warmth your welcome bears.


May be not as much as I’d wish


When you say “always happy”,


And a little booze here or there


At times may not be a bad idea.


But the ability to cherish and to love,


To bear one-another and forgive;


I think, must be the ultimate pill.


So I’m always high on curiosity:


Why this evades humanity?


How do we make this discovery?


That love and forgiveness


Hold our universe in place


And steady the aged fingers of God.


Why do we pick guns instead of roses?


Why do we create bombs instead of bonds?


Why do we say stupid instead of sorry?


Why do we fight for “God”


When we scarcely know Him?


All the same, thanks, my good friend, Bishu.

Author's Notes/Comments: 


Written 14:00 hrs on 29th June 2013 in response to a comment on my poem “LITTLE-MINDED FOLKS”.


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Gun Love

the most


valuable weapon


anyone can carry


is his fear of losing


what he has been taught


by the outside world


is courage and honor.


a gun is a mask


that hides the fear


that holds the gun


that tells someone


they have courage.




© 2013

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