September 26, 2018

It's been about two months since we added a new member to Team R. Miss Hattie (aka #Hattiegirl) settled in quickly and made sure that her presence was felt. She bites, she barks, she paws at our arms and feet. She's chewed, she's eaten, she's cause laughter and worry. And I love her. Almost as much as I love you Baby.

Here's to all of the four-legged members of Team R. Forever will they be in our hearts.

Team R Roll Call

Perfect. In time, in place, in size and shape. 

Everything about you was just what was needed

Prior to you it was quiet

Possibly too much

Everyone who met you loved you

Rightfully so. You were wonderful

Filling a hole that wasn't empty yet

It was amazing to see you blossom

Only when you were a single did we really learn about your personality

Nothing prepared us for your leaving us

And we will never forget you

Hardly a sound when we met

Almost too small to be believed

Too long without a furry, fuzzy companion for us

Then you were spotted and it was instant

I knew that you would be ours with that first gasp

Each day has been an adventure, and I love it

Welcome to the team new girlie

Each member is unique and loved

Always know that we love you

Remember that we will always come back

Every time we go, you are with us

Three years between members was a long time

Even though it was good to be free, we missed it

Always looking, checking for the right time; right friend

Missing those who were no longer in the house

Rescuing you was amazing

May 26, 2019

Heavy

Each thread may be small

But woven together with their fellows

They all become

Heavy

The enamel and bronze are only parts

The engraving on the front can't even be felt

Pinned to the chest of the officer it can  feel

Heavy

A shot is small

1.5 ounces in volume

Added together over the night, those ounces will be

Heavy

The pieces and springs are tiny

Only bits of metal apart

It's when they are assembled that they become

Heavy

The threads of Kevlar are heavy

On the shoulders of the officer that wear it

A life time of pain is the reward

For staying alive for the career

The badge can be seen by all

It's a symbol of good to most

Of oppression to some

And to evil to a rare few

For some one is enough

For some one is the start

For some one leads to hangovers and dry mouth

For some one leads to courts and jails and death

A pistol on the hip is heavy

The power of death over life

Contained in a plastic and leather holster

At the ready to save or take a life

The Kevlar can't cover the mind

The shield won't keep the demons at bay

The drink will only numb the mind for a short time

And the pistol is the last resort

When it all gets too heavy

1-800-273-8255

March 21, 2019

For World Poetry Day I write these words. They are simple and off the top of my head. Enjoy them.

World Poetry Day 2019

Last night I laid in our bed alone

You were out of town on business

That I understood, as it is the time of year

But this was a different alone

I missed all of you girls

You, and Fiona, and Pepper

My girls were all gone

Even though you are all always with me

I set the timer for two hours

And the sound to a rhythmic tick-tock

I drifted off quickly and then snapped awake

And saw that it had only been a few minutes

There was too much room

My feet were free and unfettered

My shoulders not touching yours

No gentle breathing, from you or them, in my ears

I closed my eyes and pictured you

Your smile, your eyes

I pictured Pepper and her fuzzy ears

Fiona's white face by my face

That was what I needed and to sleep I fell

In my dreams you were there

With Our Girls

And I didn't miss you as much for the night

There's Hope. There's Help

One decision made. Haste. Hurting. Hopeless

Eight hundred, thousand, million questions after. All left unanswered

Two ways to go. To flee from or to fight the monster

Seven days in a week. One at a time is all you should focus on

Three phone calls. Or texts. Or emails. Any way to reach out. Many ways to reach out

Eight days to plan a funeral? It's never enough
Too many things left unsaid. By you. By us
Five on each side of a casket
Five to fold and present a flag of remembrance

- For Mike

Love Beat Poem January 2019

Love is - many things. Complicated and easy. Filled with highs and lows and if anyone knows how to navigate and delegate and mediate - it's you. And me. We. It's simple to see that my love for you is all encompassing. People have all seen how I adore you. Admire you, would do anything. I live for and would die without you.

Love is - deceptively simple and a ton of work. Getting to know every tic and quirk. Each story and tale whether happy or sad, seeing each other glad or mad. Laughing, crying and talking for hours on end. Not wanting the conversation to end. Love is all of this.

Love is - never a drag, no time ever lags. It's wanting to see each naked no matter what sags. It's not letting the little things bother you, telling each other when you're feeling blue, and knowing that feeling is absolutely true. Consolations after bad dreams, silly jokes rolling eyes, plans and schemes.

Love is love is love. Corny but true. And I'll never, for all of my days, stop loving you.

July 7, 2017 - 1000

I arrested a guy a few weeks ago and he used the phrase "fuckers and whores" and it stuck with me. This is the result.

The world is full of fuckers and whores Blood on new carpet and police car floors
Shoeless, clueless, harmless and arrested
Bested by the best our city has to offer

The world, my world, is where the trains stop and drop
Off the problem children; never one stop south or two stops north
Back and forth between happy and angry
Hurting and certain that we are the ones who hurt him
Both of us bleeding into glass tubes
Because one wouldn't heed the advice of the other

The world is full of highs and lows
And blow by blow it tries to blow you down
A human house made of straw or sticks
We have to be the bricks
That make up the wall
Between right and wrong
Good and evil, the innocent and the hate filled people
Who want to do all of the things that we don't want them to

The world is full of themFuckers and whores

July 6, 2017

Blue skies and birds

Bushes with bugs and bright green leaves

Gentle breeze blowing around my face and feet

Flag fluttering to and fro

Branches bending toward the sun

The scent of the flowers flowing

Chirping and clucking from above and below

Wind chimes singing their high pitched song

Not another person stirring

I simply sit without hurry

Sipping coffee, reading slowly

Knowing that this is a paradise

No cares, no worries, no need to get up

Hearing music from my house

As it creaks and shifts under its own weight

Dogs barking in the distance

The hustle and hum of a city

Doesn't compare to this shush and shudder

The peace of the neighborhood

Unbroken by horns and trains and that rush of life

It's been a couple of weeks since we bid a fond and teary farewell to our beloved Fiona. She was such a good dog, like our other wonderful pooch Pepper (aka Pepperoni) that her loss is felt quite sharply. And it's not just that there's no little nose greeting us at the door when we get home. There are numerous things that aren't there any more. 

I Don't Miss What I Miss

Things I don’t have to worry about now that Team R is only two members:

Not having room at the foot of the bed

Not feeling a wet nose on my head

Chilly walks by the moonlight

Grunts and woofs in the middle of the night

Brushing teeth and the stinky breath

Trimming nails and feet that smell like death

A sore back from giving a bath

A smiling smirk as I pick up the trash

Spots of saliva on the chair arms

Adjusting the blinds so that there’s proper warmth

Appointments and pills on a peanut butter spoon

A sigh of annoyance as I walk into the room

But...now that Team R is only two members I miss

Sore knees from keeping my legs bent

Seeing the noses, asleep and bent

Talking and walking on our walks

Watching you dream and hearing you talk

Treats after cleaning your teeth in the morn

Watching you sleep as I would grind down the claws

Lifting you both in and out of the tub

The looks of innocence; the looks of love

Hearing your tongue as it ran along the chair

Making sure of the temperature of the air

Seeing the doctor's smile when they see you

Hearing your sigh whenever I’d near you

I’d give anything to have you both back, but you won’t ever leave us. Team R will always be

Pepper

and Fiona

and Mommy

and Me

February 1, 2016 - 0900

Yesterday was the culmination of two of the worst days off in my life. It started fine and then spiraled down into the bottom of a pit that all pet owners eventually end up in. Our beautiful, sweet, gentle pup Fiona left us. She'd been slowing lately, but we had no idea what was actually going on. When we found out what her actual malady was, the choice was clear. Painful, but clear.

This is for her. For all of the dogs who don't live long enough. For the owners who cry at their loss. For the memories that last forever.

Gone Too Soon

She was only nine and a half when she departed

After a long day that scared us all

Staying in strange places. With strange people

Not being able to be near us

I wonder what was in her mind

Was she lonely? I know I was without her

There was too much room at the foot of the bed

Without her there

Was she scared? We were, not knowing what was wrong

Unable to help her in any way

Feeling helpless while she was taken to and fro

From table to table

When we finally got the answers we were stunned

There were silent tears

This was it. This was the last time

She would be with us

And so, after the papers were taken care of

She was put on a soft, warm bed

And then with her pillow under her head

And her family by her side

She closed her eyes the one last time

And drifted away peacefully

Leaving her broken shell behind

She was only nine and a half when she departed

November 14, 2015 - 2300

The words come, the words go. The ones that stick around end up first on paper and then on this screen.

I love listening to music of all kinds. I have an eclectic collection of everything from A to Z. Pop, rock, metal, punk, opera, classical, ska. You name it I probably have a song in that genre. And with that come a lot of memories attached to songs. Some are guaranteed to bring a smile to my face as I travel back in my mind to the time that is being invoked by that tune. Others make me so sad that I only need to hear a few bars of the beginning and the tears well up in my eyes and I have to change the song.

This is about the latter.

It Isn't Their Fault, But It Isn't Fair

Driving to work, listening to a CD

I cried. A song reminds me so much

of that sweet, sweet pup

That I can't listen to it any more

It's stupid. It's only a song

And a good one as well

But it's forever tied to her

And her being gone. It's ruined

October 9, 2015 - 0900

As one can probably guess I am an animal lover. Of most kinds, but the small furry ones hold a special place. I am soft like that, but in my line of work if you have to have a soft spot I think that it should be for children, the elderly, and animals. It will keep you humble and remind you that there is not just bad in the world.

The downside is that occasionally the bad will intrude on the good. Children are abused. The elderly are neglected. And animals are injured and killed. This is from a call that I was on a few weeks ago but only now found the words on the page.

Bandit

I got called to a dying animal tonight

Raccoon. Generally thought of as just a ring-tailed rat

Giant vermin stealing garbage

And creeping me out with their tiny hands

But this was a little one. A pup

Or cub or whatever a baby raccoon is called

Maybe a year old at the most

With it's tiny paws (hands?) flexing

With each labored breath

A small part of me died with it

I didn't want it to suffer

But there was nothing for me to do

In front of a school is no place to shoot an animal

But in front of a school is no place to die

I'll check on him periodically

And when he's gone we'll both rest easier

October 8, 2015 - 0900

Hearing about another dog leaving the world and her people always makes me reflect on our sweet girl. I know that I've written thousands of words about Pepper, but that's how it goes. And most of them have been sad and that's how that goes as well.

This is one that came to me when I was in my car at work and a shadow crossed my vision. There was nothing there when I turned my head but it got me thinking.

Grey Ghost

When I feed our dog

Sometimes I hear two sets of feet

Clicking across the floor

In the kitchen

I know there's only one dog

But I also feel like she's there

Her stubby tail wagging

To and fro

When I'm watching TV

Or reading I see our dog

Sleeping and sometimes I

Glimpse her going up the stairs

I don't really but I think I do

Her wide hips switching

Left and right as she

Hops up each riser

When I'm laying in bed

With a book or device in hand

I think I feel her jump

Onto the bed by my feet

I know she's not there

She left us three years ago

But in my mind I see her

Hear her. And always miss her

October 7, 2015 - 1500

It's been a long time since I've written anything here, or at all. The inspiration to write isn't always with me and that leads to long periods where I don't write anything at all. Then something happens and I put pen to page. Literally. I will hand write everything first, revise it so that I like what I've written and then type it out for this place.

In this instance, a friend has had to make the horribly difficult decision to take her faithful dog on that last car ride. Anyone who's a dog owner or pet owner knows how heartbreaking this is. I actually called it "heart crushing" because that's what happened to me and my wife when that decision was made at our house. It's been three years and we still talk about, laugh about, and sometimes even cry about Pepperoni.

So this is for you Lucy. Beloved companion to a friend. Anyone who knows will understand.

For Lucy

We found out last night

That a friends dog had reached
The end of her days

Her time had come

She wasn't even my dog

But I cried. I was sad

Thinking of a friend who

Has to make such a decision

I was also sad for my dog

Gone these three years plus

But sitting in an urn

On our dresser. Still wearing her collar

And I was sad for our dog

A gray-faced gray; tail still whippy

But easily injured and slowing

From her puppy like ways

I'm sad for all of these things

Dogs and people and urns

Gray faces and stubby tails

And all of the dogs I don't even know

October 13, 2014 - 1007

I posted this a FB as well. Last night I couldn't sleep very well at first. I kept thinking of Pepper, our wonderful Weimaraner who we said goodbye to 06/09/12. So I got out of bed and wrote this.

The Worst Day of My Life

The night before the day it happened

We cried. We knew it was time

So we gave her her favorite things

Soft food and bones and cookie

Pet and hugs and kisses

We had a mattress in the dining room

Because she couldn’t get up the stairs any more

Even though I could carry her up

Coming down caused her much anxiety

So we slept with her downstairs

On that morning there were more tears

I hadn’t cried for my grandfather

The inspiration for my entire professional life

Or for a friend who killed himself with no explanation

But for her I held nothing back

It was a short drive there

Less than half a mile door to door

But I made it last as long as I could

I didn’t want to make this trip

As necessary as it was

We waited until the last possible minute

Before I carried her inside

They all knew her, loved her

But not like we did; not like I did

I held her in my lap until they called us

In a small room. On a white tile floor. On a soft blue blanket

I sat her down and she laid down on the blanket

She was ready. I knew it but I wasn’t

I didn’t want to see her go

But it was time to let go

As she drifted away I held her

Her last sleep was in my arms

I’ll never forget her fur against my face

The soft whisper of her last breath

As she said goodbye to me

And I to her

August 21, 2014 - 1245

What Color Is A Mirror

What color is a mirror?

The silvery reflected backing facing us as we look

At ourselves in its glass face

Speckled with bits of dirt and toothpaste

A brilliant white combination of all colors

The spectrum captured in the polished surface

Shining what we see back at us

Turned towards its back

A void devoid of color except the backing

The absence of anything familiar to remind us

What color is a mirror?

A snapshot of the immediate

Keeping the moment for a moment

The minds eye making an attempt to save

What it is we see when we see ourselves

The clothing we were wearing when we went

Out to see him or her. For the first time

Or maybe for the last time

Bright or somber. Is that the color

What color is a mirror?

The pale pink/white of my skin

Or the dark brown/mocha of yours?

The dusky yellow of his

Or the brownish-red of hers?

Olive or tan or albino white

These and others in the looking glass

Looking back at eyes of blue, brown, green

Hazel and gray. Does the glass see these

As we see these in the colorless mirror

August 20, 2014 - 1250

Perceptions

All police are bad. Just look at them

Breaking that old mans ribs…

As they do CPR on him to save his life

All police are bad. Just look at him

Hitting that child on the back…

To clear whatever she was choking on

All police are bad. Just look at her

Taking those children away from their mother…

Who has been abusing them their entire lives

All police are bad. Just look at them

Speeding down the street…

Towards the gunfire, while others run away

All police are bad. Just look at them

Breaking the door to that apartment…

Where a woman is being beaten by her boyfriend again

All police are bad. Just look at them

Waking that family up in the middle of the night…

To tell them that their child is dead

Just look at them. All police.

Doing all the bad things...

That nobody else would dare to do

June 9, 2014 - 0850

I wrote for 30 days straight, and then took over a month off. That seems about right.

I'm back today to put more words on the page for a very special member of Team R. It was 2 years ago that we lost her and it still hurts us. We talk about her all the time, make jokes at her expense, and tell stories of her exploits. But mostly, we miss her. So very much.

The Loss Is Great, The Memories Are The Same

I woke early today with her top of mind

The kind of mind that wonders about the loss of family

And wanders from memory to memory of her fuzzy face

Missing from this place for two years

Two years to the day, she went away and we had to say

Goodbye. Farewell our friend. It was the end of her days

It seemed like that day wouldn't end, it replays over and over in my mind

Again and again that fateful day that I knew would come

But I didn't want it to. I wanted it to never come

To somehow pass us by. To let her lie with us forever

And ever in our heart and home, never gone. Never gone

And she isn't. She's always with us in our hearts

Some days are easy. I'm too busy to be sad for her

I don't stop and think how much she would have liked a cookie

Or fries from my plate. But on this date I know they won't wait

They'll invade me like invaders at the castle gate

I won't stop them. I let the memories come in and ransack my mind

I let them flood over me like tidal waters breaking a dam

I let them wash away my anger of not thinking of her

Cleaning my heart with my own tears

I miss her. We miss her, every day that she isn't laying on the bed

Is another day that we are reminded that we are one less

There will always be four members of the team

Always the four forever and ever more

It isn't the memories that hurt us the most. Those are what keep her alive

For us, for me, it's the thought that I will forget her

That I will let her slip from my mind and be gone from the team

That is the most painful. That she would be only a dream

So I keep the pictures close at hand, on my phone and in my office

In my direct line of sight so that I might never let her go

Even though...she is gone

She's never gone from my mind

Every second, of every minute, of every day she's with us

In some way. Whether it's a small picture on a phone

Or a piece of cloth wrapped around a lamp or on a leash

A tag on a chain, or simply a memory burning in our brains

National Poetry Writing Month - April 29, 2014

Today was an exciting day at work. I've been here six years and today was the first search warrant we've executed here during my tenure. It came about as a combo of good timing and the experience and skills of the officers involved in getting the warrant. It worked out for the best, as we were able to arrest the offender and get drugs and money for forfeiture, but these things have a way of going bad, fast. I'm glad we pulled this off without a hitch.

You Can Run, But You Can't Hide

With years of work under their belts

And experiences that most don't have

I came to the office early and geared up

We were actually going to hit it

This is the sort of thing that officers dream of doing

That tests are given and interviews conducted for

The chance to be one of the ones

Who smashes down the doors of evil

And imposes the will of good on those within

It's never the same twice when it goes down

Armor and shields are donned

Weapons checked and re-checked for function

The last place you need a gun to go down

Is when you're first through the door

Not knowing for sure is not the worst part of it

The waiting beforehand is 

Feet tapping, fingers drumming, mind racing

What will be waiting for us on the other side

There's always the chance that they will win

Bullets don't have names on them

They are addressed "To Whom It May Concern"

And that's our concern, and why we train

And practice

And go over floor plans again and again and again

Until we know the layout by heart

Until we know the doors and windows like the backs

Of our gloved hands

It went down ALMOST flawlessly

We were in and up and inside in mere minutes

But it only takes mere seconds for toilets to flush

And villains to disappear

Sooner rather that later he was caught

Close by and dark clothed he secreted himself next to an officer

In fact, under an officer

He would have gotten away with it

If it hadn't been for those meddling police

With years of crime under his belt

And experiences that I can never comprehend

He wouldn't talk with us; not impolite or uncooperative

But no, he wouldn't talk with us

With a click of the pen and a click of the camera

It was off to the county cages with him

To await his day in court

Leaving us with mountains of paperwork to complete

And the next door to contemplate

National Poetry Writing Month - April 28, 2014

Ah the joys of home ownership. There's nothing like having your own castle to come home to, where family and friends can gather and recount the events that bind you all together.

And then there's the upkeep. The maintenance and repair. The improvements. We've recently had the floors replaced in our house, with the old grimy carpet being removed and for the most part new shiny laminate flooring being put in it's place. The stairs and second floor hallway remain carpeted, but with new replacing the old. It's been an uphill struggle to get it done in a timely manner and correctly. Today was another example of how contractors never seem to know what each is doing.

Right Hand, Left Hand

Have you two met? You're in the same field

Home improvements and repairs are your game

It seems however that you don't know the deal

When it comes to your work being the same

It's the same house you've been in twice before

And I've called you back two times as well

My has greeted you each at the door

So why does this work always give me such hell?

Tear out the old, put in the new

That's the gist of this job

But you'd think that each time the arrival was new

And they'd never set foot in my yard

So it's phone calls and calls to the place where we pay

To get you back out to my place

There are smiles and I'm sorry's every new day

When you don't even remember my face

This day we both hope is the last that you'll be

In my halls and my driveway outside

You both are polite and as nice as can be

So I'll sign and say my good-byes

It's always good looking, the work when it's done

But the constant returning is never much fun

National Poetry Writing Month - April 27, 2014

I heard a reading of Carl Sandburg's "Chicago" and it was amazing on a couple of levels. First, it's a brilliant piece of literary art. You can hear what I heard on Soundcloud. Second, it's about what I consider the most impressive and amazing city in the entire country. And it made me think about my own little hometown in Kansas where I grew up. So this is about the city where I was born and raised and lived for the first 18 years of my life.

In Praise of T-Town

Grass and trees bend to the breeze

Blowing across the prairie and into the cities

No mountains to stop it from whipping the hair

From your face and the hat from your head

My home was not on the range

A modest little one story story on the southwest side

Of a city that by comparison to others

Can barely be called a city

It was my whole world for my beginning life

I knew every nook and cranny of the park

Could ride a bike from one neighborhood to another

And never be on a main street

Friends lived within walking distance of me

Our families knew each other and there was trust

That if you were bad at their house

You'd be in trouble at yours

Growing up we were shielded from the horrors

Of big city life. No real crime or poverty

On our side of the city

That was a northerly problem, and more so outside of us

The more I looked around

The city where I was at, the more I realized

That there was more to be seen outside

Of it's small town limits

1991 - war divided my high school along it's lines

Hawks and doves swooped through the campus

You were either for the soldiers and their mission

Or you were against. There was no middle

I knew then that I had to get out

I knew then that I was going to leave this smallish place

And never return to live again

Not ever

By the time I was 18, I had already enlisted

My fate was set with Uncle Sam and his ilk

13 weeks there, and the remainder of 4 year

Solidified my decision as the right one

I have been back only a few times since leaving

There is a slight sense of nostalgia

But no burning desire to return and stay

My place is now outside of that place. Forever