Guns

          GUNS 

Justify them however you like,
  guns are made to kill.
 
   Made even more deadly
     in the hands of the vengeful,
       of the criminal, of the mentally ill.
         Guns will always find their way 
            into the hands of those who will.
              Inevitably, into the wrong hands, 
                  despite the latest greatest bill.
                     And always at the wrong time…
                        because guns are made to kill.

                           Those stubbornly blind say,
                             “Guns don’t kill. People do.”
  
                                 This weapon finds death.
                                    In the sights of the spiteful,
                                      of the careless, of the self-chosen few.
                                         It doesn’t matter what you say.
                                           It is mainly a matter of who.
                                             So open up your obstinate eyes.
                                               It could happen to yours, or you.
                                                  Guns alone may not shoot people…
                                                     but only people with guns do.

                                                         Defensive or offensive,
                                                            it is a scary slippery slope.

                                                              Guns are firmly entrenched
                                                                 in the arms of your nation,
                                                                   of law enforcement, of those who guard hope.
                                                                      Yet, for every group with the best intentions, 
                                                                         there is one more who can’t cope.
                                                                            Manufactured for a single purpose.
                                                                               Short-sighted, in every scope.
                                                                                  The hunter, or the hunted…
                                                                                     it’s a scary, slippery slope.

                                                                                         Guns are made to kill.
                                                                                            They will always find a way.
                                                                                              No matter what we do.
                                                                                                 No matter what you say.

A scary, slippery slope.

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Guns

                     GUNS

Justify them however you like,
guns are made to kill.

Made even more deadly
in the hands of the vengeful,
of the criminal, of the mentally ill.
Guns will always find their way
into the hands of those who will.
Inevitably into the wrong hands
despite the latest, greatest bill.
And always at the wrong time
because guns are made to kill.


Those stubbornly blind say,
“Guns don’t kill. People do.”

This weapon finds death
in the sights of the spiteful,
of the careless, of the self-chosen few.
It doesn’t matter what you say,
it is mostly a matter of who.
So open up your obstinate eyes,
it could happen to yours, or you.
Guns alone may not shoot people,
but only people with guns do.


Defensive or offensive,

it is a scary slippery slope.

Guns are firmly entrenched
i
n the arms of your nation,
of law enforcement, of those who guard hope.
Yet for every one with the best intentions
there are three more who can’t cope.
Manufactured for a single purpose,
short-sighted, in every scope.
The hunter or the hunted,
It’s a scary slippery slope.


Guns are made to kill,
they will always find a way.
No matter what we do
no matter what you say.

It’s a
scary
slippery
slope.

                                                                                                            

Spite

                 Spite


Bitter and unforgiving

Imbedded in how you speak
Stubborn and so hurtful
 First instinct of the weak

Malicious pointed words
Constantly pointed finger
Damage you can’t rescind
Resentment that will linger

Spite makes you smaller
A grudge, poison to the soul
An ego guarding its territory
Arrogance digging a hole

Rooted in feeling superior
A symptom of something geneticTears bed
An excuse for the narrow-minded
To be petty and pathetic

Paralyzing emotions
Anger and especially spite
Stuck under the weight of words
Unwilling to do what’s right.
Still so full of negativity
 Still so much pent-up hate
Accept what life has dealt you
Because soon might be too late.

Bitter and unrelenting
Forgotten what it’s all about
Difficult and missing the point
Ugliness turned inside out

Anger so very misguided
An all-encompassing rage
Unable to forget or forgive
Refusal to turn the page

Insufferable and exacting
Spite consumes you like a cancer
Irreplaceable time spent selfishly
Questions you refuse to answer

You will look back with regret Grave
Stop living life as a quitter
Bitter and alone without your kids
And with them… just bitter

Paralyzing emotions
Anger and especially spite
You will be lost in your darkness
Until you realize there is light.
Let go and try the positive
Let go of all that hate
Accept what life has dealt you
Because soon might be too late.

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