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

National Poetry Writing Month - April 15, 2014

If you haven't discerned by now, I am a police officer. The badge as my avatar, my name on the posts, the fact that I write a lot about work and arresting people. It isn't a huge state secret. I do keep the details as vague as possible to help keep myself and my family safe when I am off of work.

I also am one of those cops who likes guns. Pistols, rifles, shotguns. I enjoy shooting them, I enjoy teaching others how to shoot them and I even enjoy cleaning them. Today I will write some about guns and my enjoyment and use of them.

All Ready On The Firing Line

(1)

It's called evil

Dangerous and deadly

Unnecessary for most

And an adult mans Lego set

Black and shiny

Camo and dull

Cold to hot steel

And plastic pieces and parts

I can teach you to

Use it properly. The names

Of the parts and how

To aim and squeeze

It's a tool of my trade

No more and no less

Dangerous? No. A tool

The user can be dangerous

(2)

13+1 of brass and lead

Polymer and metal strapped

To my hip as I walk

The streets and alleys

I've never used it

On another human

And I hope to

Never have to

34 parts in total

I can teach you how

To use those parts

To save or take a life

(3)

A most blunt piece

Of iron and wood

Plastic and lead shot

Shooting from it's barrel

It's iconic sound brings

All nonsense to a halt

Everyone knows it's voice

No one wants to challenge it

It's proven itself

To my forebears

On domestic and foreign fronts

It's a proven winner

(4)

These are merely tools

Used by good and evil

For good and evil

To each their causes

The one behind

The rifle

The pistol

The shotgun

I train with these tools

And train others with them

To advance good

And end evil