Policeman
Everyday he wakes up
As his bare feet hit the floor
Grabs a cup of coffee
Straps his magnum on once more
Feeds the cat he lives with
Since his wife walked out the door
In nine years hell retire with a pension
Everyday he suffers
cause he sees all kinds of pain
Sometimes feels helpless
In a world thats gone insane
Then he wins a battle
It restores his faith again
Its only human kindness he is after
He is a policeman, you know
All the years and nothing to show
He is a policeman, you know
Every night he comes home
With a sixpack all alone
Feeds the cat he lives with
He picks up the telephone
Needs to talk with someone
But the only love hes known
Was lost forever, he is a policeman
He is a policeman, you know
All the years and nothing to show
He is a policeman, you know
All the years and nothing to show
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Everyday Faces
Everyday faces that say hello
Everyday faces that come and go
Everyday faces that stay the same
Everyday day after day
There was a day
When all everything changed
People all came
Stood in the rain
They ain't got a cent (they not the same)
Policeman walked in
The statues all waiting (???)
They wanted a change
Everyday face
Was a time all we could do was try
Was a time when we could say goodbye
Now you find you never do a thing (the same)
Does today feel the same way
Cos there was a day
When all had been changed
People all came
Danced in the rain
They ain't got a cent
And a policeman walked in
The statues all wait (??)
All the same
Everyday face
There was a day
When everything changed
The people all came
Danced in the rain
They're in pain
A policeman walked in
All the statues are waiting
They wanted a change
From an everyday face
Now you're looking at me
Like I'm so passe
I'm a disgrace
Just an everyday face
song performed by by Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stop Thief!
Policeman, policeman,
Help me please.
Someone went and stole my knees.
I’d chase him down but I suspect
My feet and legs just won’t connect.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Career Changing Incident
The policeman helped
arrest a man and put him
in the squad car.
The man's dog, mad with fear,
ran behind the car, mile after
mile. He was hit at an
intersection. Subsequently
he was healed, but the incident
caused the policeman to resign
from a job which did not allow
him his own conscience.
poem by Saiom Shriver
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The policeman isn't there to create disorder; the policeman is there to preserve disorder.
quote by Richard J. Daley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Billy's Policeman
I knew a policeman once
And this is true as it ever could be
Who made me feel an awful dunce;
'Cos I lost my dad, and it frightened me.
He came and took me by the hand
'Well, now,' said he; 'young fella-me-lad,
No need to cry, I understand.
You'll soon be back with mummy and dad.'
I knew the big policeman well
Before he'd talked the teeniest while.
Such a lot of things he had to tell;
And he had the cheeriest, merriest smile.
I've got a nipper at home like you
So high, young fella-me-lad,' he said.
And all at once - as true as true
I forgot to cry, and I laughed instead.
And then the big policeman said:
'Ho, that's the stuff for the troops, old son!'
The funniest things came into his head;
And I laughed and laughed at every one.
And when they found my mummy and dad,
And he patted my head and said good-bye.
Somehow or other I felt quite sad;
But I knew he'd be sorry to see me cry.
I know that all policemen now
Are just like that, and it's silly to think
They frown and bully and make a row,
Why, you ought to have seen my merry one wink!
And when I pass where he has his beat,
When I'm out for a walk with mummy and dad,
I wave to my big friend in the street,
'What Ho,' says he, 'young fella-me-lad.'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Everything between us is black
A black sleep near to death
surrounds me and everything between you and me,
while police patrol cars
with flashing lights and sirens
are parking outside the yard
and you are at your lover’s house.
They are here to lock handcuffs around my wrists,
send by the lies that you trumpet forth
and when I only allow one policeman
to come into the yard
while your white policeman lover with the others
have to wait outside the yard
the lot of them are raging mad
as I threaten
to take legal action against them
and that one black policeman
finds your drugged out child
where he is sleeping,
learn from him
that they have come in vain
and that you are making arses of them and me,
he searches through the house
and I send the whole lot of them to hell
where they can go and crawl back in
and there’s death
like a deep dark grave,
where at a time
I had love for you
and my memory fades, about our gloomy story
of which now nothing remains
but for the realization
that your departure was my actual salvation
and between us everything is black,
all meaning has been wiped out eternally.
[Reference: Un grand sommeil noir… by Paul Verlaine.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The City of Sleep
Over the edge of the purple down,
Where the single lamplight gleams,
Know ye the road to the Merciful Town
That is hard by the Sea of Dreams--
Where the poor may lay their wrongs away,
And the sick may forget to weep?
But we--pity us! Oh, pity us!
We wakeful; ah, pity us! --
We must go back with Policeman Day--
Back from the City of Sleep!
Weary they turn from the scroll and crown,
Fetter and prayer and plough--
They that go up to the Merciful Town,
For her gates are closing now.
It is their right in the Baths of Night
Body and soul to steep,
But we--pity us! ah, pity us!
We wakeful; oh, pity us!--
We must go back with Policeman Day--
Back from the City of Sleep!
Over the edge of the purple down,
Ere the tender dreams begin,
Look--we may look--at the Merciful Town,
But we may not enter in!
Outcasts all, from her guarded wall
Back to our watch we creep:
We--pity us! ah, pity us!
We wakeful; oh, pity us!--
We that go back with Policeman Day--
Back from the City of Sleep!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Policeman's Lot
When a felon's not engaged in his employment,
Or maturing his felonious little plans,
His capacity for innocent enjoyment
Is just as great as any honest man's.
Our feelings we with difficulty smother
When constabulary duty's to be done:
Ah, take one consideration with another,
A policeman's lot is not a happy one!
When the enterprising burglar isn't burgling,
When the cut-throat isn't occupied in crime,
He loves to hear the little brook a-gurgling,
And listen to the merry village chime.
When the coster's finished jumping on his mother,
He loves to lie a-basking in the sun:
Ah, take one consideration with another,
The policeman's lot is not a happy one!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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No Thugs In Our House
Cast of characters
Graham, a teenager
Mother, a busy housewife
Father, a conservative husband
Policeman, a young constable
Scene: a kitchen in suburbia, one bright saturday morning
Act one
Narrator: the insect-headed worker-wife will hang her waspies on the
Line. her husband burns his paper, sucks his pipe while studying
Their cushion-floor, his viscous poly-paste breath comes out. their
Wall-paper world is shattered by his shout. a boy in blue is busy
Banging out a headache on the kitchen door. all the while graham
Slept on, dreaming of a world where he could do just what he wanted
To.
Mother and father (in unison): no thugs in our house, are there dear?
We made that clear, we made little graham promise us he'd be a good
Boy. no thugs in our house, are there dear? we made that clear, we
Made little graham promise us he'd be a good boy.
Act two
Narrator: the young policeman who just can't grow a moustache will
Open up his book, and spoil their breakfast with reports of asians who
Have been so badly kicked.
Policeman: is this your son's wallet i've got here? he must have
Dropped it after too much beer!
Mother: oh, officer, we can't believe our little angel is the one
You've picked.
Narrator: and all the while graham slept on, dreaming of a world
Where he could do just what he wanted to.
Mother and father (in unison): no thugs in our house, are there dear?
We made that clear, we made little graham promise us he'd be a good
Boy. no thugs in our house, are there dear? we made that clear, we
Made little graham promise us he'd be a good boy.
Narrator: they never read those pamphlets in his bottom drawer.
Policeman: they never read that tattoo on his arm.
Narrator: they thought that was just a boys club badge he wore.
Policeman: they never thought he'd do folks any harm.
Act three
Narrator: the insect-headed worker-wife will hang her waspies on the
Line. she's singing something stale and simple now this business has
Fizzled out. her little tune is such a happy song. her son is
Innocent, he can't do wrong, 'cos dad's a judge and knows exactly what
The job of judging's all about. and all the while graham slept on,
Dreaming of a world where he could do just what he wanted to.
Mother and father (in unison): no thugs in our house, are there dear?
We made that clear, we made little graham promise us he'd be a good
Boy. no thugs in our house, are there dear? we made that clear, we
Made little graham promise us he'd be a good boy.
Mother: no thugs in our house!
Father: no thugs in our house!
Complete cast (in unison): no thugs in our house, dear!
Set design by andy partridge with co-ordination by ken ansell.
Stage and scenery by art dragon
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Thugs In Our House
Cast of characters
Graham, a teenager
Mother, a busy housewife
Father, a conservative husband
Policeman, a young constable
Scene: a kitchen in suburbia, one bright saturday morning
Act one
Narrator: the insect-headed worker-wife will hang her waspies on the
Line. her husband burns his paper, sucks his pipe while studying
Their cushion-floor, his viscous poly-paste breath comes out. their
Wall-paper world is shattered by his shout. a boy in blue is busy
Banging out a headache on the kitchen door. all the while graham
Slept on, dreaming of a world where he could do just what he wanted
To.
Mother and father (in unison): no thugs in our house, are there dear?
We made that clear, we made little graham promise us he'd be a good
Boy. no thugs in our house, are there dear? we made that clear, we
Made little graham promise us he'd be a good boy.
Act two
Narrator: the young policeman who just can't grow a moustache will
Open up his book, and spoil their breakfast with reports of asians who
Have been so badly kicked.
Policeman: is this your son's wallet i've got here? he must have
Dropped it after too much beer!
Mother: oh, officer, we can't believe our little angel is the one
You've picked.
Narrator: and all the while graham slept on, dreaming of a world
Where he could do just what he wanted to.
Mother and father (in unison): no thugs in our house, are there dear?
We made that clear, we made little graham promise us he'd be a good
Boy. no thugs in our house, are there dear? we made that clear, we
Made little graham promise us he'd be a good boy.
Narrator: they never read those pamphlets in his bottom drawer.
Policeman: they never read that tattoo on his arm.
Narrator: they thought that was just a boys club badge he wore.
Policeman: they never thought he'd do folks any harm.
Act three
Narrator: the insect-headed worker-wife will hang her waspies on the
Line. she's singing something stale and simple now this business has
Fizzled out. her little tune is such a happy song. her son is
Innocent, he can't do wrong, 'cos dad's a judge and knows exactly what
The job of judging's all about. and all the while graham slept on,
Dreaming of a world where he could do just what he wanted to.
Mother and father (in unison): no thugs in our house, are there dear?
We made that clear, we made little graham promise us he'd be a good
Boy. no thugs in our house, are there dear? we made that clear, we
Made little graham promise us he'd be a good boy.
Mother: no thugs in our house!
Father: no thugs in our house!
Complete cast (in unison): no thugs in our house, dear!
Set design by andy partridge with co-ordination by ken ansell.
Stage and scenery by art dragon
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Phrenology
"COME, collar this bad man -
Around the throat he knotted me
Till I to choke began -
In point of fact, garotted me!"
So spake SIR HERBERT WRITE
To JAMES, Policeman Thirty-two -
All ruffled with his fight
SIR HERBERT was, and dirty too.
Policeman nothing said
(Though he had much to say on it),
But from the bad man's head
He took the cap that lay on it.
"No, great SIR HERBERT WHITE -
Impossible to take him up.
This man is honest quite -
Wherever did you rake him up?
"For Burglars, Thieves, and Co.,
Indeed, I'm no apologist,
But I, some years ago,
Assisted a Phrenologist.
"Observe his various bumps,
His head as I uncover it:
His morals lie in lumps
All round about and over it."
"Now take him," said SIR WHITE,
"Or you will soon be rueing it;
Bless me! I must be right, -
I caught the fellow doing it!"
Policeman calmly smiled,
"Indeed you are mistaken, sir,
You're agitated - riled -
And very badly shaken, sir.
"Sit down, and I'll explain
My system of Phrenology,
A second, please, remain" -
(A second is horology).
Policeman left his beat -
(The Bart., no longer furious,
Sat down upon a seat,
Observing, "This is curious!")
"Oh, surely, here are signs
Should soften your rigidity:
This gentleman combines
Politeness with timidity.
"Of Shyness here's a lump -
A hole for Animosity -
And like my fist his bump
Of Impecuniosity.
"Just here the bump appears
Of Innocent Hilarity,
And just behind his ears
Are Faith, and Hope, and Charity.
He of true Christian ways
As bright example sent us is -
This maxim he obeys,
'SORTE TUA CONTENTUS SIS.'
"There, let him go his ways,
He needs no stern admonishing."
The Bart., in blank amaze,
Exclaimed, "This is astonishing!
"I MUST have made a mull,
This matter I've been blind in it:
Examine, please, MY skull,
And tell me what you find in it."
That Crusher looked, and said,
With unimpaired urbanity,
"SIR HERBERT, you've a head
That teems with inhumanity.
"Here's Murder, Envy, Strife
(Propensity to kill any),
And Lies as large as life,
And heaps of Social Villany.
"Here's Love of Brand-New Clothes,
Embezzling - Arson - Deism -
A taste for Slang and Oaths,
And Fraudulent Trusteeism.
"Here's Love of Groundless Charge -
Here's Malice, too, and Trickery,
Unusually large
Your bump of Pocket-Pickery - "
"Stop!" said the Bart., "my cup
Is full - I'm worse than him in all;
Policeman, take me up -
No doubt I am some criminal!"
That Pleeceman's scorn grew large
(Phrenology had nettled it),
He took that Bart. in charge -
I don't know how they settled it.
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Harry the Wu
What can I do, Harry the Wu,
A policeman will come
And ask questions of you,
He'll pull out his book
And his pencil, too,
And look very sternly
At Harry the Wu.
Oh, Harry the Wu, what did you do,
While I was in bed
Going down with the flu,
I didn't get up until
Half past two,
And you're so impatient,
Harry the Wu.
I knew there was something that
I had to do,
I had to get up and feed
Harry the Wu,
That bowl in the fridge of
The left-over stew
Was meant for your dinner,
Harry the Wu.
Oh what can I do, Harry the Wu,
They'll probably lock you
Away in the zoo,
And then you will miss me
And I'll miss you too,
Life is a tragedy,
Harry the Wu.
I thought that you knew,
Harry the Wu,
That there are some things
You are not meant to do,
Now all that is left is
The Postman's shoe,
His hat and his bag
You have eaten them too.
What can I do, Harry the Wu,
You've ripped off the policeman's
Trousers, too,
You'd better go hide in
The chimney flu,
Stop wagging your tail at me
Harry the Wu.
13 April 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
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435
The Police Officer Arrested Them
Last Night While They Were Strolling On The Park
And This Is The Story:
He Asks For Their Names And They Say They Have None
He Asks From Where They Come From And They Say
They Do Not Really Know
He Asks Them Where They Are Going And They Tell Him
They Are Still Undecided
He Asks Them What Is In Their Bags And They Say They Are Just Nothing
He Asks Them Some More And They Say
They Have Nothing To Say Of Themselves
They Come From Nowhere
And They Are Heading Nowhere
And The Police Handcuffed Them
These Vagrants
These Potential Terrorists Of This Rural Place
Where The People Still Love Peace
And This Afternoon The Police Officer Brings Them All To Me
And He Tells Me About The Whole Story
About His Questions And Their Answers
And I Am Looking At Them And They Look At Me
Straight In My Eyes
With Dignity And Without Shame
With All Pride
That They Are Telling The Truth, The Whole Truth And Nothing But The Truth
That This One Whose Age Is 16 And This Other One Whose Age Is 18
Are Simply Talking About
Themselves And About Us
And About The Policeman Himself
And Surely, I Agree
We Have No Names, We Do Not Know Where We Come From And We Do Not
Really Know Where We Are Going
We Are All Like That, In The Strictest Sense Of The Word, Except
For Our Little Pretensions
And So I Ordered The Policeman To Release Them All
And Let Them Be Themselves
And Let Them Go In Peace And Finish Their Journey With All Ease
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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One Is 16 And The Other 18
the police officer arrested them
last night while they were strolling on the park
and this is the story:
he asks for their names and they say they have none
he asks from where they come from and they say
they do not really know
he asks them where they are going and they tell him
they are still undecided
he asks them what is in their bags and they say they are just nothing
he asks them some more and they say
they have nothing to say of themselves
they come from nowhere
and they are heading nowhere
and the police handcuffed them
these vagrants
these potential terrorists of this rural place
where the people still love peace
and this afternoon the police officer brings them all to me
and he tells me about the whole story
about his questions and their answers
and i am looking at them and they look at me
straight in my eyes
with dignity and without shame
with all pride
that they are telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth
that this one whose age is 16 and this other one whose age is 18
are simply talking about
themselves
and about us
and about the policeman himself
and surely, i agree
we have no names, we do not know where we come from and we do not
really know where we are going
we are all like that, in the strictest sense of the word, except
for our little pretensions
and so i ordered the policeman to release them all
and let them be
themselves
and let them go in peace and finish their journey with all ease
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Crossfire
Spring light in a hazy may
And a man with a gun at the door
Someones crawling on the roof above ---
All the media here for the show
Ive been waiting for our friends to come
Like spiders down ropes to free-fall
A thirty round clip for a visiting card ---
Admit one to the embassy ball
Caught in the crossfire on princes gate avenue
In go the windows and out go the lights
Call me a doctor. fetch me a policeman
Im down on the floor in one hell of a fight
Im just a soul with an innocent face ---
A regular boy dressed in blue
Conducting myself in a proper way
As befitting the job that I do
They came down on me like a ton of bricks
Swept off my feet, knocked about
Theres nothing for it but to sit and wait
For the hard men to get me out
Calm reason floats from the street below
And the slow fuse burns through the night
Everyones tried to talk it through
But they cant seem to get the deal right
Somewhere there are brownings in a two-hand hold ---
Cocked and locked, one up the spout
Theres nothing for it but to sit and wait
For the hard men to get me out
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The World Is Running Down
Turn on my V.C.R.
Same one I've had for years
James Brown on the T. A. M. I. show
Same tape I've had for years
I sit in my old car
Same one I've had for years
Old battery's running down
It ran for years and years
Turn on the radio
The static hurts my ears
Tell me where would I go
I ain't been out in years
Turn on the stereo
It's played for years and years
An Otis Redding song
It's all I own
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
Plug in my M.C.I
To exercise my brain
Make records on my own
Can't go out in the rain
Pick up the telephone
I've listened here for years
No one to talk to me
I've listened here for years
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
When I feel lonely here
Don't waste my time with tears
I run 'Deep Throat' again
It ran for years and years
Don't like the food I eat
The cans are running out
Same food for years and years
I hate the food I eat
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
song performed by by Police
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One of the fondest expressions around is that we can't be the world's policeman. But guess who gets called when suddenly someone needs a cop.
Yesterday As Today
Long ago there lived a Man who was
Crucified for being too loving and too lovable
Strangely, I met this Man three times today;
The first time He was asking a policeman not
To take a prostitute to prison
The second time He was drinking wine
With an outcast
The third time He was having a fist-fight with
A stock-broker inside a church
Two thousand years, and little has changed…
(Inspired by KG)
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The time has come to stop beating our heads against stone walls under the illusion that we have been appointed policeman to the human race.
quote by Walter Lippmann
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Please Come Home
It must have been about a 100 years
At least a hundred years
I wish you would just come back
Just come back home
The day we met feels like 100 years ago
And Im still waiting with my hand right by the telephone
Yeah maybe where you are you cannot make that call
Or you cant find the pen I know its not your fault
CHORUS
My friends think Im insane
Cause I've turned old and gray
And Im still waiting and I cannot be alone
Please come home (please come home)
I watch the clock hands tick my hours turn to days
And I cant fall asleep cause I don't want to miss that ring
I know that this year your car will park outside
But I can't put my arms around the girl who took my life
REPEAT CHORUS
Its been so long
Its been about 100 years
And a million dreams since the last time
Ive seen your pretty face I would do whatever it takes
I would wait another 100 years
And if that didnt work
Maybe Ill try and see what forever feels like
But until then and I know you hear me
And whatever your doing wherever you are please come home
That day we met feels like 100 years ago
And Im still waiting for you
Baby baby wont you please come home
Please come home
Wont you please come home
Please come home
Wont you please come home (Please come home)
song performed by by Uncle Kracker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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