National Poetry Writing Month - April 23, 2014

There has been some grumbling at my department about a change in schedule. Specifically, going from an 8.5 hour day to a 12 hour day. I have stayed relatively silent on the matter, since I am both a separate union and technically part of management. Today there is a department meeting to discuss this and a few other items that the FOP members wish to address directly to the chief. I was not asked to attend, and I won't unless directly asked to be there.

One member has the loudest voice, both physically and positionally as the FOP president. He's invoking turns of phrase from two of the departments biggest malcontents, one deceased and one out on an injury.These two and their catch phrases are what bring us today's lines.

...The Bottom Line Is...

The winds of change are blowing through the building

And not a single window is open

It's an internal wind that wafts through the halls

And into the offices of myself and my boss

On the wind I hear two voices from one

Both of these are and were maligned

Are unliked and out of touch

With how things work in a place like ours

One of the things that's repeated from beyond the grave

"Who cares?" Over and over again, as if we didn't hear it the first time

He never cared in the latter part of his career

About anything, and it cost him his health and his life

The other words oft repeated from new lips

"Fuck this place." As if there were opportunities

For a 50-something police officer in the world

Who's file is as thick as a brick

Both of these come now from on high

Within a union that has no unity

To a membership that is only agreed

On how divided they are

So now it's come to a head

From the head of the department to the head of patrol

And I am sort of in the middle

Not really patrol, not totally management

Today the words will probably be said to the man himself

From beyond the beyond

And from one who's luckily employed

To the one who's heard them both before from them both before