Gunfighter: A Modern Warrior's Life

A Favorite Poem

"We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw.  Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;...

...this is the way the world ends:

Not with a bang, but with a whimper."

 

        T.S. Eliot  "The Hollow Men"

The Vet Who Did Not Vet

In case you haven't seen it yet.

Watch it, yes, it makes us smile, but before we vote, there's many a mile.

So let's not cheer and count our chickens, watch for Fox News sleaze and dirty trickens!

They'll try to steal this, sure as hell, stand by to ring the warning bell.

Too soon to make the early bet, even if the vet refused to vet.

Gird your loins,prepare for battle. Keep your nerve when Sabers rattle!

Face the foe, donate your dough! when we win we'll cheer: GO O!

Duty

Plans are made, disguises set,
drug-dealing scum, unknowing yet.
They ply their trade in darkest night
time now to shed, justice's light

They ruin children, destroying lives
cause bitter tears in mother's eyes
They poison our society,
and make things bad for you and me.

There are those who will make a stand,
to spread safety across the land.
Sometimes in blue, or green or gray
daily they stand in danger's way.

They drive patrol cars, walk a beat,
they do their duty in cold or heat.
Sometimes in uniform, some undercover,
with unflinching support for one another.

Plans are made, disguises set,
back-up as tight as it can get.
"Let's take 'em down", the Captain cries
the task-force team all share high fives.

The meet is made, the buy goes down
our man sees bad guys around.
surrounded by his enemies,
just like a soldier over seas.

The disguise falls through, a bad guy knows him!
He tries to run, but others trap him
He calls for help with his radio,
his nearby back up is too slow.

Shots ring out, and vermin scatter,
shell casings fall with a final clatter.

The radio squawks, the cop can't answer
his friends arrive to see what's the matter.
They find their comrade, stone cold dead,
from several gunshots to the head.

Another hole in the thin blue line.
This story could be a comrade's or mine.
Cops do their jobs because it's right
to break the darkness with the light.

An Excerpt From My Life

"...And, just as he felt he was getting nowhere,
And almost about to give up in despair,
He suddenly burst through a door and that Mayor
Discovered one shirker! Quite hidden away
In the Fairfax Apartments (Apartment 12-J)
A very small, very small shirker named Jo-Jo
was standing, just standing, and bouncing a Yo-Yo!
Not making a sound! Not a yipp! Not a chirp!
And the Mayor rushed inside and he grabbed the young twerp!

And he climbed with the lad up the Eiffelberg Tower.
“This,” cried the Mayor, “is your towns darkest hour!
The time for all Whos who have blood that is red
To come to the aid of their country!” he said.
“We’ve GOT to make noises in greater amounts!
So, open your mouth, lad! For every voice counts!”

Thus he spoke as he climbed. When they got to the top,
The lad cleared his throat and he shouted out, “YOPP!”

And that Yopp…
That one small, extra Yopp put it over!
Finally, at last! From that speck on that clover
Their voices were heard! They rang out clear and clean.
And the elephant smiled. “Do you see what I mean?…
They’ve proved they ARE persons, no matter how small.
And their whole world was saved by the smallest of All!”

It's ok to think it's funny, but "Horton Hears A Who" is one of my favorite pieces of lyrical poetry.

GF