Police Poems
Barney Fife..(L.A.P.D) End Police Brutality!!
by Terrell Richardson
Their force is excessive
, extremely aggressive
with a selective few, if you surprised it's not you.
You probably wouldn't understand
But feel me cuz me and mine can comprehend to
Barney Fife, In his hands playing with my life,
it ain't right to send him out at night,
mad at his wife, cause she leaving.... The second divorce in Four seasons,
Another reason for pistol packin and thieving, with tricks up his sleeve if he sleeveless,
check his boots & pop the trunk Mr Fife where's the loot?
......
The Girl (Story)
by Slava P, aka Maximus Decimus Meridius
Chapter 1
“So, what happen to you now, not so aggressive anymore? Where is your pride, your machismo? Or I am not what you were expecting?”
The Blue Lagoon motel was crowded with cop cars, everything was blocked to the point that even a rat would not be able to pass through. SWAT team truck, fire trucks and ambulances were mixed into the picture but not for long. Detectives would take over soon and this entire circus would be finished. The owner of the hotel would take a hit during the investigation, but other than that, with time, it would be forgotten. Perhaps a newspaper article would have a column for history that one would be able to search for or stumble upon on by mistake or curiosity. Usually, big homicides were big only in the beginning. All homicides were added to the statistics and later, as time passed by, hopefully be set as an example to the rookie detectives, when they would be sitting and learning about how this psycho killer had been captured or killed. In many circumstances the killer would go away undetected and go free until captured, sometimes free forever. Usually, a psychopath killer, was a man- nobody would think that a woman could do such a thing or be so on edge and go around killing people indiscriminately. Women are vulnerable and fragile creatures, one would say, but if something went wrong in your head, it didn’t matter who you were gender-wise. The gray matter in the brains of many people are expected to be the same, but some chemical intrusions and reactions could cause in some people brain and conscience to go into different worlds and perhaps possibilities and levels.
She was in the driver’s seat and her partner to her right holding himself by the handle attached above his side window. Her partner still had doubts about her driving experience but not her detective work, she could sense it. Not that she saw him being afraid of driving with her, not at all. He was holding himself like a man, like a cop, like an officer of the law. She would glance at Mike from time to time whenever some stupid driver in front of her would not let her pass and she would use her siren and sometimes megaphone to clear the idiot to the side. Mike was a mature, big man; about six foot three, in his thirties. To her, he resembled Marlon Brando except for his chin, which had a little gap in it, but in either case, he just resembled him, right, he wasn’t him. Most of the time he was Mike the cop. He was stopped on the street from time to time for an autograph, even while on duty. People loved him, especially females. Now, he was sitting beside her, her partner Mike Brennan, looking ahead and talking on the radio with the patrol officer that arrived to the scene as soon as he got the call. Mike was very meticulous with his work, she noticed, and being a rookie detective, she knew that this person was respectful of her.
“Just hold on. We will be there in no time” she said glancing at him briefly and concentrating on the road ahead.
“You love it. Don’t you? I can see it in your eyes, Strong” he said in between, finishing his conversation on the radio transmitter. She heard a brief description from the officer on the other end of Mike’s transmitter.
......
Looters steal the message
by Dr. Robert Ippaso
The country's on fire
Buildings ablaze
A situation most dire
Filmed through the haze.
Protesters all shouting
Passions inflamed
Of their anger no doubting
For the victim now named.
......
A Dreamy Democracy In Danger
by Hébert Logerie
This is not what we were taught in school
Fights, mayhems, police arrests and brutalities
In the soiled streets. Compatriots, it’s never cool
To see so much blood and so many fatalities.
Competing banners are everywhere. A ticker-
Tape parade has gone wrong. Terror and horror
Got together for the wrong reasons, at the wrong
Place. There are too many obscenities in the song.
......
My Dad Was My Hero
by Jeffrey Pipes Guice
My dad was a police officer...
He took a vow to faithfully serve...
He protected our friends and neighbors...
A man of courage and strong nerve...
He left for work one morning...
As he did most everyday...
He said “Mind your mother...”
It was just his normal way...
......
Two Roads Crost
by Pijush Biswas
Two roads crost in a point, beside the town
And think I much of home, standing alone
Little I queer about the sun down
But much to see how the roads atone.
I come to know how the police toil long
To protest all vehicles break through
I see, I see the roads go ahead, all among
In vain or late I moan although.
Much to see the time I glued to watch
And every minute I see pin at heart's core
......
A Dreamy Democracy In Danger
by Hébert Logerie
This is not what we were taught in school
Fights, mayhems, police arrests and brutalities
In the soiled streets. Compatriots, it’s never cool
To see so much blood and so many fatalities.
Competing banners are everywhere. A ticker-
Tape parade has gone wrong. Terror and horror
Got together for the wrong reasons, at the wrong
Place. There are too many obscenities in the song.
......
My Dad Was My Hero
by Jeffrey Pipes Guice
My dad was a police officer...
He took a vow to faithfully serve...
He protected our friends and neighbors...
A man of courage and strong nerve...
He left for work one morning...
As he did most everyday...
He said “Mind your mother...”
It was just his normal way...
......
The Girl (Story)
by Slava P, aka Maximus Decimus Meridius
Chapter 1
“So, what happen to you now, not so aggressive anymore? Where is your pride, your machismo? Or I am not what you were expecting?”
The Blue Lagoon motel was crowded with cop cars, everything was blocked to the point that even a rat would not be able to pass through. SWAT team truck, fire trucks and ambulances were mixed into the picture but not for long. Detectives would take over soon and this entire circus would be finished. The owner of the hotel would take a hit during the investigation, but other than that, with time, it would be forgotten. Perhaps a newspaper article would have a column for history that one would be able to search for or stumble upon on by mistake or curiosity. Usually, big homicides were big only in the beginning. All homicides were added to the statistics and later, as time passed by, hopefully be set as an example to the rookie detectives, when they would be sitting and learning about how this psycho killer had been captured or killed. In many circumstances the killer would go away undetected and go free until captured, sometimes free forever. Usually, a psychopath killer, was a man- nobody would think that a woman could do such a thing or be so on edge and go around killing people indiscriminately. Women are vulnerable and fragile creatures, one would say, but if something went wrong in your head, it didn’t matter who you were gender-wise. The gray matter in the brains of many people are expected to be the same, but some chemical intrusions and reactions could cause in some people brain and conscience to go into different worlds and perhaps possibilities and levels.
She was in the driver’s seat and her partner to her right holding himself by the handle attached above his side window. Her partner still had doubts about her driving experience but not her detective work, she could sense it. Not that she saw him being afraid of driving with her, not at all. He was holding himself like a man, like a cop, like an officer of the law. She would glance at Mike from time to time whenever some stupid driver in front of her would not let her pass and she would use her siren and sometimes megaphone to clear the idiot to the side. Mike was a mature, big man; about six foot three, in his thirties. To her, he resembled Marlon Brando except for his chin, which had a little gap in it, but in either case, he just resembled him, right, he wasn’t him. Most of the time he was Mike the cop. He was stopped on the street from time to time for an autograph, even while on duty. People loved him, especially females. Now, he was sitting beside her, her partner Mike Brennan, looking ahead and talking on the radio with the patrol officer that arrived to the scene as soon as he got the call. Mike was very meticulous with his work, she noticed, and being a rookie detective, she knew that this person was respectful of her.
“Just hold on. We will be there in no time” she said glancing at him briefly and concentrating on the road ahead.
“You love it. Don’t you? I can see it in your eyes, Strong” he said in between, finishing his conversation on the radio transmitter. She heard a brief description from the officer on the other end of Mike’s transmitter.
......
Looters steal the message
by Dr. Robert Ippaso
The country's on fire
Buildings ablaze
A situation most dire
Filmed through the haze.
Protesters all shouting
Passions inflamed
Of their anger no doubting
For the victim now named.
......
