Long Police Poems
Long Police Poems. Below are the most popular long Police by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Police poems by poem length and keyword.
THE NEWS
____________________________________________________________
Life Defined by Moments Blindsided
written by The Broken Hearted
Read the news today. There is blues Obituary
today. Agony in whatever we choose His life was extraordinary.
today. Is there no other way than Proud family, wife named Glory
to escape the day? Why did you have His children Edward and Tory
to end your life this way? Too many Died Monday first of July
have to question there own sanity Police give no reason why
taking your own life, is it vanity? Service will be held at one
Trying to control your own calamity? a potluck diner after it is done.
Why didn't you just converse with ________________________
somebody? Isn't that how it is
suppose to be? No one is suppose JOIN THE ARMY
to feel so alone that they end their
own life. What are we going to do A Bright Future
as society? It is paralyzing to think Awaits YOU!
of what could be, when we take to
the destruction personally. It is not ______________________
suppose to be that way. Pages ripped
away, the book is close and can't be oil change
replayed. A story over and its gone. 14.99
___________________________________________________________
POLICE BEAT
Police arrived on the scene shortly after hearing a gun shot fired on the second block of Hayes Road. A male was found deceased with a self inflicted wound to the head.
Cat in a tree on Main street. Firefighters, paramedics and officers dispatched. Cat is safe without injury.
_____________________________________________________________
WEATHER Lottery Numbers
Partly cloudy with chance of
thunderstorms. 85 degreess 6, 42, 66, 81, 89 01
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Folded away, tossed aside, no longer in view.
Nothing else printed, nothing else said about you.
We'll probably move on, we'll probably heal,
and we'll never have known what you feel.
Is slavery dead? Honestly it isn’t
Those of us who conform are stuck within a prison
We follow celebrities and we wear their clothes
As if they are Gods and we are mere mortals
As if they are shepherds and we are merely sheep
As if they are they are the strong and we are the weak
We quote their words and become their clones
And if we break their trend, we are left alone
And as they pass, we shower them with gifts
Money, so they can go and get their face lifts
Fame, so they can go out and conquer more slaves
Power, so they can destroy those who call them fake
They’ve brainwashed us so much we’ve gone completely numb
We openly cheer when the hero pulls out his gun
We don’t understand that we’re all completely mindless
We’re overjoyed only if the screen shows senseless violence
Nearby a police officer fights for his life
As a drug dealer tries to stab him with a butterfly knife
We’d call for help, but we’re busy with our own stuff
Discussing how the movie was good, but the killing wasn’t realistic enough
Our emotions are gone, we are all just droids
We don’t cry when we hear about a little boy
Who was killed in a shooting by a merciless gang
Because his father was part of the Ku Klux Klan
Instead we just shrug and respond “That’s the world today.”
“His father was an idiot,” is all that most people can say
“Things happen for a reason. That’s the Lord’s way.”
But that night, for that boy, everyone forgets to pray
We watch a few minutes of the news, not because we want to know
Coming up next is the new hit reality show
We’d rather watch girls dancing and grinding on each other
Instead of observing a woman work two jobs and be a good mother
And if disaster strikes, we observe the destruction and pain
The details of the damaged are extensively explained
But money only comes to charities with writing on the bag
The money must be packaged with a rich man’s name tag
So when the people see, they will remember what his mask looks like
He only cares if he’s quoted saying, “They will be all right.”
And with that, his money, fame, and power grows
And in the next election, it could even win him more votes
Learn to break the chains, learn to set yourself free
Your eyes are open, but you must learn to see
Don’t drink their potion. Don’t let them inside
Don’t stare at the pendulum too long or you’ll be hypnotized
In the night the wolves howl in the distance,
As the spring lambs bay, with the first stirrings of life,
Close lies the pack of humanity, those for whom hunger for the
Fresh taste of the blooding’s first strike, at the throats of innocence
Most pure!
Have they gone suddenly silent, these yearlings tender lambs,
In the stilled quiet amongst the melting snows of winter,
The mountain fields run crimson, and an eerie stench oozing
Upon the winds of distain!
The cannibal lies within the forest of the towered halls,
In the giant fortresses of mankind, he does stalk amongst his own brethren,
No wolfed bite of treachery could leave such a mark of
Terror, as he the beast, whom would feast upon the raw flesh
Of his kindred kind!
A gentlemen chamleon blending amongst the tailcoats
Of learned men, sheathed within the amour of intelligence's,
A humanistic wolf moves flawlessly, within the herds of the
Meek and mild, to pick his victims of the city flock
At his leisure of desires pleasure!
Underneath the outstretched wings of the red dragon,
The bubbling caldron pot of truest evil, does runneth over,
With the gravy’s leavening's of the corruption and violence,
Welcoming this creature of the demonic to the dinning
Table of the unrighteous and wicked!
Black sheep, black sheep, do you have any wool,
The whittend lamb does ask, nay but in the woods
Therein, lies many go within the wolves din and take
What you like at your own risk of course, my innocent
Friend, but beneath the blackened skinned wool the
Wolf does smile, with a sheepish grinning!
In an extravagant restaurant a well-mannered gentlemen,
Orders the specialty of the house to go, later he adds
He adds his special ingredients, spiced to the taste
Buds of the cook himself, it sizzles with an unusual
Oromia of well-cooked human flesh, the cannibal
Smiles with delight at his culinary masterpiece,
As the police knock at his door, with a missing
Persons report!
In the jail cell of the lost souls, he the cannibal known
As Hannibal Lector has no regrets, except say one,
The meal he never got to finish!
In the night the wolves howl in the distance,
As the spring lambs bay, with the first stirrings of life,
Close lies the pack of humanity, those for whom hunger for the
Fresh taste of the blooding’s first strike, at the throats of innocence
Most pure!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
...Even worse as his youngest grew bigger
he noticed things that had him quite alarmed,
the kid had blue eyes, Whitney’s had been brown,
his were brown too, he could not understand,
his facial features were not like Jerry’s,
he felt things he did not want to believe.
Jerry ignored it as long as he could,
but that dark thoughts just kept building in his head,
not long after his youngest had turned five,
to a doctor the young child was lead,
“Just for a check-up,”Jerry told the lad,
hoping against hopes the results weren’t bad.
But when it came back several weeks later
it became clear the youngest wasn’t his,
he knew that it must be Alan Price,
what other man would Whitney have lain with?
He told not the kid, that would be a crime,
but inside resentment burning in his mind.
He raged at his wife for betraying him,
and Alan Price for destroying a home,
raged at the universe for taking them,
the objects of his vengeance now were gone,
like his wife before, he stared to drink,
and as time went on even more did think.
He’d known of his wife divorcing Alan
back before they had gotten together,
thinking from her place, seeing it all a hoax,
helped him too see the thing all the better,
to be torn between two loves, both alive,
he could see the confusion born inside.
And thinking of Alan, smeared as he was,
feeling so desperate he’d take his own life,
had Jerry been there, and feeling like that,
would he turn down a moment that felt right?
When half the world thought you guilty of rape…
all based on a lie, ruined by such hate…
But understanding only goes so far,
and Jerry needed an object for rage,
this started with a false accusation,
that Jesse Malinche maliciously made,
had that lying not started this all
then none of them would’ve faced such a fall.
Jerry had never been a big gun guy,
in fact most would’ve called him bleeding heart,
but one day he walked into a gun store,
he had no record, or crime he’d had no part,
so there was no reason to stop the sale,
no reason to suspect that he would assail.
That night gunshots were heard at Jesse’s house,
the police came, saw him on the front step,
mumbling madly, his mind clearly gone,
his hands with blood were stained red, and quite wet.
They took him away, found Jesse inside,
dead in her bedroom, with glazed, waxy eyes…
CONCLUDES IN PART VI.
A Man of Strength and Courage
(A Man Of Beauty And Respect)
A True Story
Who was he? He called himself the
unknown Poet, my great great great
grandmother's uncle Joe. He lived
a long exciting life, loving one woman
in time of war.
A Martin Trapper he was, an artist of fine
design, a poet in his time, a fine gentle
soul of the universe capturing each
thought writing them down in journals
and poetry.
If you should ask him what he believed
in! he would say; “I believed in God, sounds
of nature, love of mankind, love of words
anything to do with nature is where my
heart roams best.”
He was true to his own beliefs, a man
of heart, determination, a man who
would walk a mile in another man's shoes.
He was the heartbeat of the land, a
true mountain man of the wilderness.
He wore leather, long hair, beard a loving heart
for all animals including the bear, he grew
closer to as he traveled the mountains
year after year doing his Martin trapping
for food. He was a God-fearing man
of courage and strength all his own.
He was truly remarkable, who
fought with George Armstrong Custer
and the men of the 7th Cavalry where
they met their fate and the Sioux on June
25, 1886, at the Battle of the Little Big
Horn'. Uncle Joe was sent to get
reinforcements at the age of fifteen
when he returned, they found them all
mascaraed. Including (George Armstrong
Custer).
Many of his journals, poetry and
sketches were burned in a trailer
fire, but to this day, still remember
at a young age trying to read his poetry
I do remember seeing some of his sketches
he had sketched with pencil by candlelight
in his cabin in the winter in the Canadian
Mountains.
One sketch I remember well was of
a lovely lady dressed in a long gown
with hair piled high upon her head
she looked lovely.
That winter was long and cold and Joe
never returned home from his trapping
the Royal Mounted Police found him dead
next to the creek by his cabin. He died
of starvation.
This is just part of his story my great great
great grandmother told me of her uncle Joe. I
wish she would have told me more about his life.
I want to pass this on to my family so they can keep
passing it down from generation to generation.
Copyright ? DerenaBree( All Rights Reserved). Publishing ? Man of strength and Courage®( All Rights Reserved.)
Her eyes a sapphire blue,
An awesome sight to view,
Her nose aristocratic,
She was so charismatic,
Her lips a rosy petal pink,
One had to blink,
Or been seen as staring,
Her nature a sheer blessing.
Her hair pure black like coal,
Her ears so dainty as if she stole
Them from a pretty fairy,
Her friendly attitude quite flirty,
Her peeking bosoms such a tease,
Begging for a squeeze,
Her tantalizing always alluring waistline,
Her demure look whilst sipping wine,
Her legs, toned and smooth,
The actual truth,
Those legs were the best in town,
Caire lived in a cottage down
The hill, her ankles slim and slender,
Her speaking tone ever so tender,
Her teeth pearly white,
Her nails and toe-nails bright
Red, wrists strong, fingers slight.
She was betrothed to the mayor,
Was this beautiful girl Caire,
To be married next week,
By a sandy beach near a sheltered creek,
Excitement was mounting,
Two days to go, she was counting,
Claire had ordered a Dior designed dress,
This was the perfect wedding, oh yes!
Her parents arrived the day before,
They were excited wanted to explore,
Mark’s parents acted a little strange,
There was never any form of exchange,
Of phone calls, no answer to a wedding invitation,
Future husband gave Clair limited information,
She looked radiant as she walked down the aisle,
She turned everybody’s head, unique was her style.
Happy as a lark to be her beloved’s wife,
She looked forward to her future role in life,
Suddenly, police sirens heard,
The noise moving closer, how weird,
Two cars arrived and, four or five policemen,
Walked towards the couple, in fact ten,
Cuffed her future husband, read him his rights,
Clair fainted, Mark was a criminal, many nights
She often thought he was too secretive,
Which made her sad, certainly not appreciative,
Claire dear girl, you forgot, habits are difficult to re-arrange,
Mark was set in his ways, so hard for you to have him change.
Mark was wanted for fraud, millions of pounds
Involved, had cooked the books, so out of bounds,
Claire's mom and dad put her gently into their car,
And took her to their home which was far,
Claire took some time to get past this catastrophe,
Over a man she loved and about to relinquish her chastity,
Ralph a divorced writer was her parent’s neighbour,
Who soon stole Clare’s heart and her chamber!
Greater Consciousness
08/17/2015
Imagine humankind in a future time
Could perceive each other’s mind.
What would it be like to do this thing
And the kind of world it would bring?
My insight of what would come about
Probably is sorely lacking no doubt.
But I will try in rhyme to give my take
Of how this will cause a human remake.
Could many brains make such a noise
That your psyche it destroys?
I very much hope and believe it would not
Be the result of so much thought.
Would politicians have to retire
No longer able to lie or conspire?
Could other crimes be in the past,
Criminals finally eliminated at last?
Would freedoms of expression be curtailed
By thought police with info very detailed,
Or would enlightenment reign so not a single jail
Or any form of bureaucracy would prevail?
Would war and armies be gone
Because humankind can easily get along
As misunderstanding and hatred of the other
Is not possible when in mind we’re together?
Would “I” and “me” disappear overnight
As we share all our thoughts forthright,
No longer needing the phone or internet
Would communications be very intimate?
Would science and arts be transformed
As all would be well informed
Of new ideas and concepts in their spheres
Pushing both rapidly toward new frontiers?
Could we travel through one another
Seeing the worlds beauty would we discover
A experience more than just virtual reality
Bringing us together as if one “nationality”?
Would privacy be dead
Every inner thought known unsaid
As we evolve and transform
Could this become part of a new norm?
Could we pickup thoughts of a dog
Or would they be sensed as if in a fog?
Would our perceptions of all life be different,
Much more connected and reverent?
Would we continue to speak,
And if not would it change our physique,
Leaving the world silent, not a word said,
Except inside everyone’s head?
Imagine us beyond our current ken,
Could we finally reach our Zen,
Becoming a greater consciousness thru emergence
As a result of our mind convergence?
Contest:
Mystic Rose's NEW FRONTIERS OR GREATER CONSCIOUSNESS
Explanation:
Three major emergences are known–matter, life and consciousness.
Could we reach a fourth emergent state poorly defined as "godhood" in the west or possibly better defined as enlightenment or awakening as in Buddhism?
...Then working with the government,
who always liked more western cash,
they set up an agreement that
they hoped could contain this backlash.
Two scientists could see the arc,
and work to verify its age,
one from Harvard, and one Cambridge,
and to Axum both made their way.
The American, an old man,
Professor Hammond was name,
the Brit was a young grad student,
named Alice, with a genius brain.
As they settled into their work
neither of the scholars could know
that in neighboring Somalia
an evil man plotted a blow.
He went by the name Ibrahim,
whether it was real, no one knew,
established as a terrorist,
an Islamist, quite tried and true.
He’d built a name in civil wars,
the kind that always racked that place,
made a reputation with force,
he left death, and people displaced.
And though the man gained followers,
he was frustrated by his land,
ruined and lacking resources,
Ibrahim was an ambitious man.
When he heard the arc had been found,
an idea grew up in his mind,
Christians and Jews worshipped the thing,
a route to more money he found.
He took with him one hundred men,
slipped the border, went to Axum,
keeping his people outside town
until shadows of nightfall had come.
Then they attacked St. Mary’s Church,
stormed the building with guns blazing,
killing priests, security guards,
anyone they found resisting.
Quickly they sieved the old relic,
took Alice, Hammond, and four priests,
hostages until they got paid,
at which point they {might" be released.
Chased by police they all fled east,
back into the Somali state,
where they hid amongst the chaos,
where all involved did celebrate.
A scheme pulled on the infidel,
they would now pay to arm their foe!
They had no choice, if they did not
then to hell their relic would go!
Ibrahim put out a message,
a video, as such types do,
demanding millions for the arc,
it was seen by more than a few.
And there was a bunch of chatter,
amongst talking heads on TV,
talking of how such a relic
just found, could soon be history.
Religious types the world over
spoke of how it would be a crime
if such a thing would be destroyed,
the loss of a wonderous find.
All knew some action would come soon,
too many folks were up in arms,
talk of commandos, and or raids,
to Ibrahim it raised alarms...
CONTINUES IN PART III.
As I walk the dirty streets, I look into a crack head eyes,
as she look's up at with surprise.
Knowing I got what it takes to supply them dimes!
She has her high beam's on, and a crack pipe in her palms.
she has no time to speak, as she crosses the street.
I'm her pusher man!
That keeps the past, in the past.
She beg's me for a hit, with her cracked white lips. She say's she needs a dime,
for it's her last time, knowing it's lie just to get high.
As I smile in her face, with a look of disgrace, for I'm the pusher...
I know to never let the street's get to you.
I alway's know rule number two...Never smoke from your own supply!
Rule number ten,... All rule's apply!
I'm your pusher man...
All these other rules, from one thur nine, is for only real niggas that put in time!
Never be weak for the drug's you seek, for she knows what she needs.
She really has no need to plead, what ever she needs, I'm pleased.
For her money is coming to me! If she only knew I was taking her life.
Everything she has, or ever treasured, from her husbend, to a straight dike!
She needs me for I'm here to please. With out an "us"... they'll be no "we"!
She'll give up her home and, her family, she'll never go to far,
I'm her pusher man!
I'll make her dreams a reality!
To reconcile, to feel all she needs is me! I'm the prophecy, she'll live in poverty,
talking with profanity. Selling her big screen to me!
I'm her pusher man. I make her happy when shes sad,
I can get her higher than a kite, she'll be in the streets all night!
Her family wouldn't see her in weeks, her home, was with me!
No need to eat, drugs was the beef!
I'm her pusher man!
She'll rob her mom, just to get her high on.
She'll steal from the police, If she see me in the street's!
I'm her mom, I'm her dad, Im' her everything she had,
I'm her pusher man!
She keeps me richer, my pockets stay thicker!
She loves me more than she loves her self... because the crack, is what it's really all about! I'm her pusher man!
I am what I am, I give what I can!
From the suburbs from, the hoodest of all hoods! I stay with the goods!
I'm her pusher man...
The streets will be watching everthing you do, and one day they might come for you!
For I'm... your pusher man!
Seven Mossad Agents came to Norway a winter day
when a snow drowns the needs of the homeless
asleep in a shop's doorway absorbing the sarcastic smell
of coffee and the aroma of a Napoleon cream cake.
Their mission was to assassinate a man called a terrorist
by them, but freedom fighters by others.
The target had been located, a man of 47 bearded, with
prematurely gray hair, Semitic features, and a nose somewhat bigger than what is the norm in a Nordic land
He works as a waiter at a cafe, and take the bus home
a quarter past ten in the evening, to his bed-sit, about ten minutes ride from the town.
The group needed two taxis to take them to a hotel called, “Larsen's ski lodge” a pleasant little place with
modern IKEA furniture, giving rooms an airy ambiance
the group went to work at once, the leader carrying a
heavy mobile phone, trying to make contact to base, one presumes an embassy, but failed.
One of the women donned a blond wig, walked to the cafe to be sure their target was there
a quarter past ten two men entered the bus, one of them
who spoke a few word in Swedish, asked for two ticket to Husly which was the lat stop before the bur turned around and back to town
when the “terrorist” alighted the bus the two assassins followed.
No point going into details here, but they got their man
and hid his body in a snow drift.
Cooley, they stood by the stop to catch the bus on its return trip, smoking cigarettes of a foreign brand oblivious eyes saw them at the bus stop
The assassins had overlooked one thing, the man had a girlfriend and when he didn't appeared as usual she went out looking for him with the help of neighbors
Her boyfriend was found in the snowdrift
the police quickly knew what they were dealing with
but since they, the local police were not armed, they waited for reinforcement, when in the morning the assassin group came out to go to the railways station
the group were arrested.
Then the bomb dropped, they had murdered the wrong man, another Arab, they quickly insinuated was a terrorist too, what else was he doing in Norway
The court case took a long time, one of the prosecutors
fell in love with the woman with a fake wig, tried to
say she was an innocent bystander, it didn't wash
the case dragged on, in the end, and since the holocaust
was invoked, the guilty only got a few years.