4th Annual Poems About Suicide Month
#41
This fireworks show is a secret space war. I like it ray. I like it. Between cats pissing on the controls and this I feel like you might have the basic frame work for a 1984 meets Aliens novella.

Oh and uh.... A suicide poem fresh off the toilet bowl.

Suicided
I jumped and fell
Splat. That's the end of
that. Tada.
tectak Wrote:Incomprehensibly you comma your way into another stanza. WHY? It is not purposeful. It is not sensible. It is not even stylistically poetic.

"one must perform oral molestation upon one another"

"I can tell you why people go insane. I can show you how you could do the same."

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#42
(Thanks Q)


                                < chainsaws >
               
                when employed as a suicide device
                (even with thorough preparation and skillful execution)
                are messy

this fireworks show is a secret space war                
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#43
SOURCE: http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/hom...25503.html
tectak Wrote:Incomprehensibly you comma your way into another stanza. WHY? It is not purposeful. It is not sensible. It is not even stylistically poetic.

"one must perform oral molestation upon one another"

"I can tell you why people go insane. I can show you how you could do the same."

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#44
i came
i saw
i cut

i cut
i saw
i came
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#45
This is the most bizarre double suicide I've ever heard of.

http://www.upi.com/Archives/1987/10/31/L...562654800/
Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry, because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it.

~ Rumi
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#46
In the Gunroom


This is ridiculous.

First, the choice:
shotgun, rifle pistol.
Shotgun: messy, muzzle
too big to get into mouth
easily.
Rifle: heard of it done
by a guy in the unit
and they’re short enough these days
it doesn’t take a double-jointed
big toe like a musket.
Then all the trouble -
load a magazine,
cycle action,
turn it around.
And then there’s overpenetration:
someone
else
could get hurt.
Pistol, then: much more practical
automatic - all the loading
and cycling, like the rifle
and the danger of taking the thing
out of battery by pressure
on the slide or barrel
leading to embarrassing click
and the grip safety...
Okay, revolver.  Load one
right or left - Smith or Colt?
Idiot!  Load one on each side
it’s not as if you only have
one shot.  I mean, one cartridge.
Fine.  Back to mechanics:
double action is right out,
the muzzle will wobble all over
trying to pull the trigger through
with a thumb.
So single action, which will leave
me standing in the gunroom with
a loaded cocked revolver.
Damn!  I can’t do this
against all the ingrained
weapon safety training
even if I could point
the muzzle at a part
of the body.
Thought this would be easy
with such a supply of means
right here to hand
but it’s not working.
Should be trivial
but no go.

At least there are no
hesitation marks - that
would be embarrassing as hell.
Easier to take
a stroll across the Interstate
at rush hour
(ask forgiveness in advance
from the poor sucker who gets
me as a radiator ornament)
but they have fences
it’s as if they KNEW.


Still trying to get in the mood here, but it's so difficult!
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#47
(05-28-2017, 06:58 AM)dukealien Wrote:  Damn!  I can’t do this
against all the ingrained
weapon safety training

Hysterical Ain't that the frickin' truth.

No hesitations marks, yes, but I'll bet people get all sorts of funky injuries because they flinched right before they pulled the trigger.

It's a poem, not a puzzle.

"Some readers want to love the moon spirit not scrape the brown stain from a dogs tooth."   ~Keith





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#48
(05-28-2017, 06:58 AM)dukealien Wrote:  In the Gunroom

    I'm impressed by your gun knowledge (won't bother to point out a few quibbles).
    That freeway thing can easily get the people in the car killed... even the truck. Subway?
    No, there have been people killed who jumped down to help. Trains, out from the city, traveling fast,
    best bet... but sometimes you have to wait a long time. Suicide may be fine, but boredom?



(05-28-2017, 02:19 PM)Lizzie Wrote:  
(05-28-2017, 06:58 AM)dukealien Wrote:  Damn!  I can’t do this
against all the ingrained
weapon safety training

Hysterical Ain't that the frickin' truth.

No hesitations marks, yes, but I'll bet people get all sorts of funky injuries because they flinched right before they pulled the trigger.

And not just the hesitation. You really have to know where to aim. A lot of people place the muzzle to the side of
the eye... there's no brain there! The bullet goes through both eyes, blinding them, but they easily survive. I know
this because a co-worker did just this. The challenge, he said, of recovering, of learning how to survive being blind,
saved him.
this fireworks show is a secret space war                
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#49
(05-28-2017, 06:58 AM)dukealien Wrote:  ...  Back to mechanics:
double action is right out,
the muzzle will wobble all over
trying to pull the trigger through
with a thumb.
So single action, which will leave
me standing in the gunroom with
a loaded cocked revolver.
Damn!  I can’t do this
against all the ingrained
weapon safety training

this is brilliant. I wonder if splitting the last 2 lines as ...all the / ingrained / weapon safety training and ending the poem there might not be a better idea. it's a bit of a comedown from there.
~ I think I just quoted myself - Achebe
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#50
may morning sun
glories through the window
unwelcome

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#51
(06-01-2017, 04:52 AM)Tiger the Lion Wrote:  may morning sun
glories through the window
unwelcome
Love the last line!
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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#52

    this day and this one and this one...

    today

    i've gained the power

    to stop to this infinitum  

this fireworks show is a secret space war                
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#53
My hands ache
With the pain
of ten thousand heartbreaks
 
Feeling
the shame
Of ten thousand mistakes
 
Getting lost
 in the pool
That's become a crash-land
 
what can
 I do
You've let go of my hand
 
Most days I do well
Holding together
Holding it in
 
Then other days 
Dip a toe in
and I can't swim
 
I'm dying in a pool of words
That can't be said
and won't be heard

It's more than I can handle
And swallows me whole
This thousand words
That bears my soul
 
Can't let myself go there
Can't dredge up the past
Celebrate freedom
By lifting a glass
 
Can't sleep
up late again
Midnight pain comes crashing in

Stoned to death by memories 
There once lived a woman
Who now whispers through trees
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