Friday
Locked, cocked and ready to roll
Pulse pounding to the beat of the drum a’sounding
Lights streaming, bass beating
Eyes flashing, tongues lashing
Rides ready, package steady
Pin drops, hand locks
Gunz a blaz’n, Smokz a haz’n
Partner shot, situation botched
Location is burnt, remember what was learnt
Cover fire, first desire
Bullets ricochet’, cannot dismay
Dive to the ground, don’t make a sound
One left, subside bereft
Glass cracked, nerve tract
Location tracked, time to react
Hammer falls, barrel calls
Bullet flies, to his surprise
Hits its mark, with a speedily disembark
Chest is red, he’s dead
Partner’s pulse has ceased, and he is deceased
Run outside, I could have died
Regain composure, there will be no disclosure
Another mission, gone astray through volition
posted by randompoet
at 7:57 PM
Friday, March 25, 2005
3 Comments:
...paintball? clearly this isn't about paintball.
nice choice of words. rhyming is fun, though it lacks rhythm.
paintball??
PAINTBALL? clearly this about real guns.
yeah I wrote it in 15min..you can't expect the best. It actually has to do with God and how I feel when I sin against him. Like there is a battle, and even when I lose and should die, for some reason he keeps sparing my life. I suppose that is what grace is.
This poem really scares me. I hope it is about paint ball....
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