The day was humid and hot
Behind the bush hides a cop
I ignored the red light
Until cop was in sight
Then I did a rolling stop
Today I decided to block a poet
To date I have only blocked three
My style is wild and I know it
But I was accused of AI poetry
I didn’t exchange nor feel ashamed
An honest purple poet I am
For some on this site rage baiting a game
It only works if you give a damn
Just because my energy is love
Rather than to stubbornly fight
I focus on creating from energy above
And lift up poets and comments with light
I enjoy each person’s opinion here
We all have a right to express and choose
But on my God I do no fear
If you’re combative I will cut you loose
I’m not even the best writer
To be accused of being AI
Simply must be a sad fighter
For I block them out my life
Laying out by the pool, Jules was caught
wearing less than the rules said she aught
She was asked by the cop
why she'd cast off her top
Her reply? "it's s July and I'm hot"
thick as thieves smiling
no such thing as free money
copper kills robber
We plunder precious planet at a pace.
Now seems we’re showing some signs of regret
As ill effects now hit us in the face?
But still our need for more land must be met,
Thus wildlife we continue to displace
When their age old habitats we target.
Now we go on depriving them of land
So that our billions further expand.
We see ourselves as Master of Nature,
So she is there to serve our every need,
To be our slave for present and future.
Perhaps our need we should admit is greed.
Am I painting a worrying picture
As our mean ways now make this planet bleed?
How long can our clever ways dominate
And what will come after COP twenty eight.
Alternating red and blue, police car siren blaring.
My heart is thumping wildly. I wave and blow him a kiss,
But he doesn't notice. He is on the job, not caring.
And since I'm driving slowly, a chance meeting I'm going to miss.
Had he wings, he would be the Heavenly Angel Michael.
But he is an honest cop who watches for speeders on the road.
His manner is courteous; his aura is physical,
Yet, his peaceful brow is smooth, tending not to furrow hold.
Today, I see him at the curb writing a citation.
I wave, I wink, and blow a kiss as I drive on by.
Though my heart is bursting with daily infatuation,
It is those California girls who always catch his eye.
Shades of Green
Spring arrives on queue
Verdant colours warm the soul –
Wonders of nature
Picture Frames
Turner et al paint
Landscapes of life are then housed –
Framed for reflection
Trains of Thought
Then human advance
Nature abused through the ages –
How is this progress?
Skeleton Staff
Sustenance lessens
So life withers on the vine –
Mankind declining
The Ending
Far away planet
First signs of life have begun –
We wasted our chance
Wonder where grass grows,
Over my cop-father's grave
His kids still mourn.
England And Germany
Twin sides of the same coin
Light and dark the game's the same
Two soldiers doing the same job
Both would be mortal enemies
Yet their stories are the same
On a certain type of mission
Getting the same result
Like it's a scripted storyline
The hit man and the cop
Telling exactly the same story
Each eradicating the rapist
Not a tale I made up but real
Or so they say to me
What do you think?
SELL OUT Nick Armbrister new book out soon
Meant enquires consequent
On ken Sampson The Eloquent
Wishing now to himself acquaint
With the conflicts that were frequent,
Where his people are domiciled,
Currently to odds reconciled,
So that he might about them speak
And The Still-Kept Hidden leak…
In the darkest drain slain body,
Not long traced to B Goodie
By some folks loved for being civil
But by their Union ruled ‘Evil’:
To all Good Remarks had sniveled
And on Grave Issues had driveled
Some see A Demon just vanquished
He wouldn’t have Swipes relinquished
Goodie’s killer is distinguished:
Has Satan’s Fire extinguished!...
Ken has The Final Picture grabbed
Slain Goodie was tortured, first nabbed!
Ken would treat not ‘Emergency
From Juvenile’s Delinquency:
This is about Unsafe District;
Every cop to wear a face strict…
Never cop out
In order to solve a problem
one must think like a “cop”
One must go to that single donut hole
place in his gut and make a rational decision
Cop only to the human heart
Cop to the heart, body mind and soul in order
to find that through line ...
You know that a through line is also the happy medium ending place that which is absent of malice and forethought
Then "Cop" into this happy medium place where "Copping" really, really count
“Not sure of being familiar
With Washed-Ashore Emilia,
Neither saw The Cadillac
Not The Woman in Lilac,
Whom they’d decided to waste,
Stripping her down to the waist”.
Oh! How my two ears did burn
And my quiescent belly churn
And I stopped seeing Keats Urn
When the cops said “It’s my turn
To down sit for questioning”
And me was positioning,
Their routine activity
That made my captivity …
I would say quite Dramatic:
Experiences Traumatic;
All the time Protective
Before Smart-Eyed Detective
“Lots of pity, Emilia
But to her not familiar” …
Later, I learnt ‘Candidate’
With her rear’s ‘Up-to-date’
To neatly win The Loyalty
Of even The Royalty.
Fragments of 1972
David J Walker
I carry the year 1972
in a leather messengers bag
That sags and strains the strap from my
shoulder to my hip
and I claim
to open it only
once a year at midnight
but that is a malleable lie
that has
morphed as I have aged
Have you ever raged at a minor
Injustice
Do you trust your minister to dispense
Only the holy truth
Are you glad that you are not
A traffic cop
Directing traffic
Do you believe you can solve the world’s problems
By inviting everyone
One at a time
To be your neighbor
Do you ever see yourself as the antithesis
Of a solution
To a problem that
You were the only one
Who didn’t know
My calendar is a fragmented rag and has lost
The first week of
January
including next Wednesday
When I go back there I feel
Overdressed and
Out of place
So, why didn’t you stop
After seeing a red-eyed cop
You know could ask you to hurriedly drop
And have you childishly begin to hop
Or ludicrously bop
To still hard blows wire to your face while on top
And angrier, like gilled corn, pop!
A prelude to making you some grimy floor mop
Or in a nearby farm start planting a crop,
Retaining this over coat that does make you a fop?
She cleans and polishes
Her revolver
A prayer on her breath
She prays that God stays with her
As she makes this difficult arrest
She is the lady police officer
Her life is on the line
She needs friends who will care
When her finger brushes the trigger
And her mind whispers “deliver me”
She battles with depression
Worry and fatigue
She understands that hatred
For her and her gun
Flow viciously with malice and cruelty
She is the one I turn to
When I’m weak and afraid
When no one will listen
To my plea for protection
Still, do I whisper a prayer…
For this lady who defends and shields
Gives me security in this malicious
Wretched place
Where we always need grace
To fall across her face
Guns can be used to kill
But they can also be used
To do God’s will
Guns poetry contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
April 23, 2021
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