Lyrics by Michael Coy and Jerry Curtis
just solved another murder
and put a gold star on my chart
it sits next to my wet-dog-smell-recliner
this is where Beau and I watch crime shows
Solving murders one at a time
gloating when we are right
ignoring my near misses
I have spent years here, waiting for my honorary detective badge.
A badge of honor
To suffer for His goodness
And righteousness' sake.
Give me a gold star badge and a wide brim hat.
Sell me a uniform and show me where to get those boots
Better strap a bullet proof vest on me too
Because I am afraid of guns.
What at first i thought was
the trailer for the new horror movie
Police Academy Black Purge
A clip showing a policeman
telling a black man to turn his back
and count to 7
1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7
Man down shots fired
7 bullets in the back
Using live ammunition,
And practicing on human target's
Turned out instead just to be today's live
footage of another american
policeman on patrol
Fulfilling his sworn duty to
protect and serve
and keep the public safe
5th amendment street justice style
A Badge and a Gun
A gun and a badge makes you macho and brave
A chain and a whip makes another a slave
The past can’t be forgotten as much as we try
Two hundred years on and people still cry
Ask yourself why you do, just what you do?
Punch the innocent who stand in front of you
Instead of being the person for what you are paid
You taunt and hurt and shoot and degrade
You have the badge and it gives you the right
To arrest the guilty and we understand your plight
But there’s bad apples in the barrel of every gun
And you stand and you aim, hoping they’ll run
Your allegiance is noted, the president smiles and gloats
Hides in his bunker, while a sycophant takes notes
In your ivory tower, with your thoughts and your tweets
While your mistakes and crimes, hide under white sheets.
David cox 05/06/20
Thank you for your service and your ultimate sacrifice.
You wore that badge with honor always willing to pay the price.
Your family must be proud of the man that you became.
Your life was cut to short but in God’s glory you now will reign.
I’m sorry for your child and your understanding wife.
I’m sorry for their loss but I’m very proud of your life.
The path that you did choose was a special one indeed.
Your integrity and valor will have forever left its seed.
I mourn for all of your friends and your family as well.
I think of all the beauty in the kingdom that you now dwell.
You will always be remembered by the stars that you’ve aligned.
Thank you, Officer Holte, badge number 639.
*I wrote this for a 29 year old Grand Forks Police Officer that was Killed last week in the line of duty. He left behind a young wife and a 10 month old baby*
Verse 1
Stranger rode into town,
A stern look on his face,
Gave thought to his grim task,
Sworn duty on his mind and dismounted.
Verse 2
Examined his two six guns,
Moseyed to hotel bench,
At noon stood and with care,
Tied holster to his thigh and reflected.
Verse 3
In saloon spoke a name,
Outlaw threw down his drink,
Knew why stranger was there,
Each drew down, guns blazing, unabated.
Verse 4
Fight was o’er in a blink,
Outlaw dead on the floor,
Stranger left the saloon,
Went over to his horse and remounted.
Verse 5
Rode from town at full trot,
Same way that he came in,
Town knew why he had come,
His tin badge told the truth, deputized.
If I had a sheriff’s badge
I would use it liberally.
Speaking to everyone,
Deputizing half the town.
Nightsticks and guns would be
Thrown into garbage cans and
Tar pits, with dinosaur bones.
We would not need them around.
My posse and I would use cell phones
And our keen powers of observation
To watch out for the children,
And the women who were easy to carry.
We would surround the neighborhood
With “watch” signs, and keep ourselves ready
To alert the rest of the people, to keep
Everyone safe. If I had a sheriff’s badge.
Rainbow banana, we all tried to make the most beautiful one, the silliest one, the most disturbed one.
We used food coloring, all the bowls in my kitchen, and fingers which were soon all kinds of colors.
Our troop was competing in a contest which might lead to a girl scout badge being honored in our name.
“Rainbow” and “banana” were the first two suggestions, and they ran with it, being seven and eight.
This project was a dismal semi-success. The end projects were disgustingly weird, non-appetizing.
The girls did not realize it, they were shrieking and laughing, and loving the dye on their hands.
They were one hundred percent confident, and began designing the rainbow badge in their conversation.
I sat back and wisely kept my counsel, and naysaying opinions to myself as one particularly enthusiastic child announced that we would most undoubtedly be named troop of the world for this terrific idea.
Youth. Nothing like it. The enthusiasm and hilarity continued, as I quieted myself.
Life's how you make it, happy or sad
Ignore the down days, don't add to the bad
Brighter days await
Down days abate
As natural as breathing, wear a happiness badge
He was a straight-laced lawman,
who went strictly by the book
Before he took any criminal gunsmoke down,
he would give them
his best Marshall Dillon righteous look
Said he would always give them a fair trial
Just one of the rules his daddy lawman taught him
He could still hear the words
echoing from yesteryear ...
no matter how many bullets he took:
A good cop is always obligated
to try to save a crook
His granddaddy said it was the humane thing to do
He was a fourth generation tin star,
a badge of honor held in high esteem
by his family
Many a county folk said,
he was the best lawman to come down the line
Had the fastest gun
this side of great grand’s lightning moonshine
And with the coming sunset legacy,
he heard all the retirement tales —
Even the fastest draw
has to slow down at some point,
and rest a spell
So he patted his son on the back,
and passed the Colt 45 revolver baton
The fifth finger on the hand,
raised rightly
to be the next family lawman
Before I'm another day older,
I'm gonna get shot in the shoulder.
In movies and shows,
the protagonist knows,
it's how to get Hilda and hold her.
From Gene Autry to Scully and Mulder,
the good guys aren't turned on by gold, or
political power:
come the end of the hour,
they want to get shot in the shoulder.
In Buffalo, Boise or Boulder,
each player, or stacker or folder
will promise you flat
if you wear a white hat,
you're gonna get shot in the shoulder.
The girl may be Gertrude or Golda:
you're ready to melt her and mold her?
The best thing to do
when the baddies ride through,
is get yourself shot in the shoulder.
There's no formula stricter or colder:
the eye of the movie beholder
requires of the star,
when he enters that bar,
that he has to get shot in the shoulder.
When I met Grace Kelly, I told her
(or let's say I gently cajoled her):
"if you're leaving at noon,
then I don't need a wound!"
But I bled. That's right, lead. In the shoulder!
Carrying Her Great Honor As A Badge Unfurled
She had walked years through a dark desolate world
CARRYING HER GREAT HONOR AS A BADGE UNFURLED
Dawn came that Spring with its first rays of healing lights
She suddenly found no fear of devilish nights
She stopped early morn by a clear, fast flowing stream
Joy in heart, wondering had it been a bad dream
Birds were singing, first she had heard in many years
She splashed the magnificent green grass with her tears
Stepping back on long dusty road, her smile told all
Sweet love of Life had returned after her big fall
Now retracing steps from dark horror she had fled
She could face very worst and laugh out loud instead
Her honor had led to a path of redemption
From Fate's sad decrees, she had found love's exemptions
Robert J. Lindley, 2-16-2017
Sonnet, Lin 12/12
Syllables Per Line: 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12
Total # Syllables: 168
Total # Words: 132
Note- Read a great Emily Dickinson poem earlier this afternoon that inspired this creation.
First cold rain of the season.
The eyes squint-like a cat pre-pounce.
Spines turn into wind whipped icicles.
Bones gently shift to dodge the icy waves.
Like the unborn floats around the unforgiving blade.
First cold rain of the season.
Like your first encounter with a funeral pyre.
That funny smell, the rosy smile.
Trying time to cry like the others.
To proudly wear that salty badge of life."
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