Death Shout

Awaiting lots of trolling, no matter, my brave little poem goes out.

They make you feel proud because they're ashamed
Just like they justified having slaves
As carrying the white man's burden
Saving the black man's soul
When inside black hearted men and women
The real reason lay hidden
Money and material comforts
Unearned gains.

So guns are fun
They let you take care of your family
Take care of yourself
Shoot game and put meat on the table
Oh they make you look like such responsible men

Take accountability then
For countless children killed
On a day when they should have returned home
To mama's hugs
And answer to all the kids you are rearing up
Thinking guns are the answer
Safety is a trigger in your ready hands.

Please feel proud to spread a culture of fear
Tell them that the world is ending
The Annunaki shall attack with laser Spears
Yes, in cahoots with your government
And feel free to bring us back to the caves
Where you're King atop the stock pile of
Ammunition that you hold so dear.

You know the real reasons
The world deals with guns
It's not for roses nor for fun
You look good with the rifle, a  real tough honey
But the withered old men are the ones collecting your money.

And you know they arm your enemies too.

And make sure they real proud of what they do.

"Death to infidels!" they shout
"Death right back at you," you scream back
We will throw your corpses out!
Death dealers smile ensconced in safeholds
And they don't mean basement cellars or caves...
They're counting their cash, and they won't settle for a penny less,
While you shout shout and shout
And go on and about
Every shoot out, that makes you think
It's coming, the fight
So you proudly proclaim
Guns are your right,
Death, death, death
Is all you'll ever wield out
Defend your rights
As your lights,
Of sanity and reason
Liberty and civilization
Slowly go out.

(c) Amrita Valan 2016