Long Cops Poems
Long Cops Poems. Below are the most popular long Cops by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cops poems by poem length and keyword.
Niel Charles was a regular thief, I hope ' not a killer?
Well he came to grief; Bury St Edmunds. Market town
June 2021 himself he found. Tryiing some doors at
private houses around, its what he was doing no need to spice it.'
A father and son surname King, went to confront him
And here is the thing,' one with a knife; the other a short sword
Both going seperate, is what I've took on board.. Some
Altercation must have ensued? Between Neil and David
King, the father as told in the news' Neil was fatally
Wounded and died.' David called the cops thirty eight
Seconds inside.) His son named Edward was he a part?
Of the death of Neil? That touches different hearts' Neil
Left a sister, who no doubt grieves.' Theres a mother and
Wife Heather..King who believes.' That this was all a tragic
Event..Yet the 'jail time given does not represent' a just
And fair handling, of the case as tried..ninteen years for
Edward on the inside, David got twenty one is it harsh? What
To think? Should they appeal? Look for a chink? Edward a
Store worker David he built..Now what a lot they have lost..
And a man was killed.' So much sadness in this affair,
Did the system deal with all aspects fair.? It calls for
Refection on our values in life, for the many decisions
That affect everyone on all sides.'
Las Vegas Town
By Franklin Price
7/16/2016
Las Vegas town in mid-July is quite the place to be.
The temperature is hovering around one twenty three.
The cool casinos welcome us to pay for their AC.
We bring our money with us to roll the dice and see.
Our car is waiting in the sun. We cannot touch the wheel.
If we were sitting naked there, a sauna we would feel
But then again the cops would come and throw our ass in jail
Would waste our gambling money when putting up the bail
We keep our clothes and suffer until the car is cool
We cruise the strip in comfort. Mom did not raise a fool
Saturday is crowded and the heat's on every face
We leave the strip and go downtown to find a cooler place
We pass the wedding chapels that abound in such galore
A tradition in Las Vegas is awaiting at the door
We're married so we do not stop, downtown calls our name
How can we lose our money if we do not play the game?
Parking high on Binion's lot, in fact we're on the top,
The elevator's slow and old just like its carried crop.
Finally the doors slide open and tables come in view.
The scene from past familiar, quarter slots are calling you
Wheel of fortune, cherries jubilee, bars and stars abound
Promises of fortunes as the wheels spin round and round
Must play the max to win the max. You cannot be afraid
Luck not work makes millionaires. That's how the game is played
Progressive slots offer the most if the spinning match is right
But our gambling bucks were gone at the ending of the night
We had our fun, we did our thing, no practice of refrain
We only left what we could have flushed, affordably, down the drain.
A Statistic
Sometimes I feel tired of being in my own skin....feeling overwhelmed with sin that’s not my own...sorrow overbearing with thoughts of black teenagers that will never be grown...men, and woman dying as children...because they were shot by cops that are the same color of my skin....so now I am another statistic...reason being...is from what I’m seeing...my skin is seen with privilege...because I’m not black I lack the same disrespect from cops that Tyrone might get...and yet I feel tired of being in my own skin...feeling responsible for the many wrongful deaths....in all depths...from wanted to be a cop...wearing a badge of a cop...to holding the gun of a cop...when will it stop...the motto is “him or me”....them or we...shoot to kill...not disable...because you leave him or her able to come back the next day to bring more to the table....apprehending is now becoming a fable...or turned into one...it’s easier to do damage with a taser or take a life solving problems permanently with a gun...than it is to disable make unable to run...no lesson to learn from...I might be white as so that’s the color they call my skin...but I’m from the same east New York Brooklyn city line shopping neighborhood black kids grew up in...as I grow older I grow colder to what police officers are trained to do...”Shoot to kill...not disable to make unable...to come back the next day to bring more to the table”.....as much as I would refuse to be a bullet ballistic...I am just like everyone else who is the color of my skin A statistic...
I ride the bus to work,
and sometimes I put on a very displeasing look:
I complain with sardonic humor,
" These city buses are never on time! "
The scruffy man beside me sweats and scratches his hair,
" It's so damn hot and lateness is a crime! "
And we both complain about
the bus schedule during rush hour,
" I blame the cops for taking away my Cadillac,
all they found in my car
was an empty bottle of Rum...
they smelled my breath,
and started to laugh;
I didn't drink any..it was my chum! "
A bunch of teens, chatting and cursing,
were listening to his conversation
and derided the reputed drunker
who lived in their neighborhood...and they went on
with their silliness, " You lost your clunker, because
you were drunk and stunk like a pig! "
" Listen, you good-for-nothings punks,
at your age I had respect for older people,
never said an unpleasant word to anyone! "
And venting his rage with frantic hands,
" If I were any younger, I'll zip your filthy mouths
with duck tape...dare me and you'll be so sorry! "
There was a brief silence, but animosity
for those kids was strong but he restrained his thoughts.
Dog’s crew is following him out the Bounty Hunter Office Door
Where his beloved Beth resides no more
They follow him into houses, apartments, culverts and ditches.
When they come for you, I wonder if your sixth sense itches?
Dog says “GO!” and they chase their man down.
After handcuffing, Dog talks to him, on the way to town.
He calls him “Brother,” and gives him a cigarette too.
They usually end up respecting him when their time together is through.
Dog’s crew is his sons, his friends, his nephew, his daughter, Michelle.
They will chase a man down for days, a woman sometimes as well.
It is a company business, and everyone on Hawaii who is hooked on Ice,
Looks over their shoulder for the cops, and Dog with his sage advice.
The show is spectacular, it keeps me riveted to my seat.
If I was in Hawaii Dog the Bounty Hunter I would have to meet!
However, it would have to be under the right circumstances of course.
Dog and his crew are such a formidable, determined, driving force!
Leaving work for home, my job stress still fizzled.
The long drive included bratty rain drizzle
and windshield blades needing my constant fiddle.
My stress spittled as rush hour drizzle-tripled.
Some driver's fingers waved from their hand’s middle
but I thought how my nights were far from simple
with dinner and other children committals.
I must stop and tend the food list I’d scribbled
so I gave my gearshift some tension wiggles.
Once at grocer’s I saw my food list whittled,
placed bags in car without a single wrinkle,
then backed out of parking space like a missile …
… so … my stressed ear’s received a crash transmittal
while in rear mirror my eye’s saw boots wiggle,
noted they were stilettos so not nimble
yet back and forth they wriggled on legs riddled
before boots, wrinkles and white hair sunk crippled.
Without quibble I gave cops a phone jiggle,
ran to my victim and knelt by her middle.
Her eyes were open but she seemed struck simple
so I sympathized and smiled with full dimples
while thinking this could become civil dribble
ending in a court where lawyers would quibble.
Yes, stress had pressed me inside guilty’s pickle.
It was a magical night with full moon in the sky
Pointing her finger to the luminous orb on high
Mother told her son- “Look at the magical globe”.
The child raised his eager eyes towards the sky.
Saw the silver disc blazing among the clouds,
Sending out pulses of light on everything beneath
As he looked on, he saw it inching slowly away.
Wide eyed he kept gazing at the globe of light,
Sliding over the black cover of speckled brightness
And beams of silver kissing on every cloud,
And the moon smiling down at him from the heights.
From him escaped an excited squeal of delight
Felt it was beckoning him in earnest,
Inviting him to join in its silent march.
Drawn by the flashy glamour of that magical sprite,
His eyes were hooked on to its effulgent face.
While looking on, the moon disappeared out of sight,
Like a culprit vanishing abrupt to escape the cops.
The child wanted to reach out to the sky to trace him.
Adamant on having one more look, he waited in the dark
Until at last his mother had to forcibly drag him in
Even at being tucked in bed, she saw a tear suspended,
In the corner of his eye glittering like another moon
She wished she could through some magic bring the moon back.
All she could say to console her sobbing son was-
“My babe, don’t cry! Sure he will come tomorrow”!
If i could talk with Kelly.? What would the convo be.? About; the times he ranged the
Bush, shot his own game; and tuckered free.'
He was only young, a hero now.' Who handed back
Mortgage papers, he'd liberated WOW.' good
Action Ned, you did not just sling lead! And
There ' were also some lowlifes who wanted
You dead' I reckon what Ned would answer me.' Is i did, what I could with what I had the
Rest is history..Had a few more stood? We
Would have shattered the chains.' That held
Us under, I reckon thats pretty plain.' Do you like
A drop of whiskey..I'd have to offer him you see.? to
This free strong Aussie spirit, I'd say that he'd agree'
We both could take a shot.' And i would embrace the man, who rode really With his
Familiy, rode against an (evil gang) made up of
Some blackgaurds.. they called themselves
Victoria constabulary, they would oppress, and shoot
And hang; way;way too many.' Not the type who worked
For real peace, they hired cannibal black trackers, that said upon Ned should feast.' No wonder he was bushranging .' Much better than being eaten, after death.? Yet as we
Know he shot it out..Against a great mob of these scummy
Cops.' Ned you did your best, mate stay at rest
I raise a glass today.' I toast the memory of
Ned Kelly.' One more true hero, of a whole and hard country.!
Towering sycamores embraced, forming canopies over the streets.
Crime was unknown - (three part-time cops patrolled their beats.)
'Cept for teens in hot-rods who were bent on an occasional toot!
Folks were entertained as cops chased them in hot pursuit!
There was a Fourth of July parade with fireworks after dark.
Presbyterian and Baptist ladies served watermelon in the park.
Old vets in tight-fitting uniforms marched with resolute stride,
Followed by the school band in which the town took great pride!
The paperboy was prompt with the news to enjoy with a cup of joe,
(Tho' it usually landed in the bushes due to his ill-aimed throw!)
Folks greeted friends and neighbors with a hearty, "Howdy do!"
Pausing to swap a bit of gossip since they had little else to do!
Proms were held in the school gym and didn't leave a feller broke.
Idlers met at the barber shop to hear the latest risque joke.
Kids sold lemonade on their lawns for a dime a glass,
But urbane lads visited the ice cream parlor to treat their lass!
Church bells summoned worshippers on Sundays with clarion peal.
Moms invariably fixed chicken and dumplings for the Sunday meal!
I have many fond memories of small town life that I can't forget.
I return to relive those blissful days every chance that I can get!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
We had ghouls, ghosts,
and a goblin.
There were Skeletons, Skulls,
Batman and Robin.
A bank robber, an Indian,
and a Judge.
We had popcorn, cookies,
homemade fudge.
A Werewolf, Count Drac,
and Frankenstein.
Beer, Alcohol, and
Moonshine.
We had Joints, Dabs and
some Hash.
Skin Heads, Bikers and
White Trash.
A poker game, music,
and tattoos.
Christians, Pagans, Muslims
and a Jew.
No cops, no fights,
no drama.
No broken bone, blood
or blunt force trauma.
No one passed out
on the floor.
This was Halloween
2024.
Turbo1904?