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John F McCullagh Aug 2015
One more big score in a life time of crime,

One more  big heist and he'd retire this time.

His friends were in prison, the others were dead.

Jessie James was in hiding with a price on his head.

Once more in the saddle, take the reins Jessie James

You fought for the South, and your anger remains.

This Earth taught you violence and the lessons  well learned.

The Yankees taught arson when your family farm burned.

He's a cold blooded killer, this preacher's young son,

with no hope of Heaven with the deeds that he's done.

He's a hero to some and a villain to others

This man who robbed trains with  those two Younger brothers

There's a price on your head and Bob Ford's taking aim

as you climb up to straighten your wife's picture frame...

Once more in the saddle take the reins, Jesse James
Robert Ford shot the outlaw Jesse James in the back of the head  as Jessie had his back turned and was attempting to straighten a picture frame in his home. There was a reward offered for Jesse dead or alive that was too tempting for Ford to resist.
John F McCullagh Aug 2015
It was sticky hot and humid in Ferguson that Saturday.
Just another weekend where the little leagues would play.
I was riding unit 25 looking out for petty crime.
My units' radio sputtered to life: "shots fired on Canfield drive."
" Officer in need of assistance"

We just didn't arrive in time.

I recognized the body, my colleague and close friend.
Darren Wilson was shot six times, the last time in the head.
His service piece was missing. The shooter had fled the scene.
I called for a bus and backup and radioed what I had seen.
We then secured the crime scene as it drew a silent crowd.
Detectives looked for any clues and canvased the homes around.
No witness would come forward, either out of fear or dread.
"His new wife is now a widow." my disgusted partner said.
Darren face was badly bruised as he lay there in the sun.
I surmised he'd been assaulted in the struggle for his gun.
The coroner sighed and shook his head at the body on the gurney.
He'd perform an autopsy on my friend before his final journey.

The score was one dead man in blue, his murderer still free.
The streets that night were quiet, as I suspected they would be.
There was no public outcry at the killing that was done.
Blue lives never matter to a town like Ferguson.
( post script: Forensic evidence found blood from a second individual at the scene. This was traced to a suspect named Michael Brown who had injuries consistent with the findings of the forensic team including a bullet wound from the officer's gun. Michael Brown was indicted by the Grand Jury and is awaiting trial in Jefferson county)
John F McCullagh Aug 2015
Eyes dilate and look distant as Will puffs upon his pipe.
The distinctive scent of Cannabis commends itself tonight.
Each puff makes him mellow and his imagination soars.
He dwells not on the tragedies his future has in store.
He dreams on Fairy Kings and Queens, Young lovers showing pluck.
“What fools these mortals be.” I’ll give that line to Puck
His shrew wife will have none  of it she only scowls and scolds.
“His blood!” Will thinks, she needs a puff of what this clay pipe holds.
He likes it well, this gentle herb that lulleth him to sleep.
He will awaken ravenous and need something to eat.
clay pipes containing traces of marijuana have recently been unearthed on property formerly belonging to William Shakespeare
John F McCullagh Aug 2015
The sky was so very blue, it was a Thursday, I recall.
Nagasaki had just stirred to life when "Bock's Car" paid us a call.
We were the secondary target, but dark clouds concealed the first.
Thus our city was marked for death when hell  unleashed upon the earth.
The super-fortress shimmered, brilliant silver in sunlight.
I saw one parachute deploy as she turned and banked from sight.
There was a blinding flash of light, then thunder from on high.
" that is strange" I recall that thought "Thunder from a clear blue sky."
08/09/1945 The second atomic bombing obliterates Nagasaki, Japan killing an estimated 80,000 Japanese and destroying the center of the city. A B-29 super-fortress " Bock's Car" delivered the bomb, nicknamed " Fat Man" via parachute. This is based on a reminiscence from an aged survivor of the attack
John F McCullagh Aug 2015
James Holmes awaited news of his fate. (Would his madness be held to mitigateHis terrible sin, his awful crimes; Life or Death, How to decide?)
What is Justice for multiple homicides?
He murdered twelve and injured more; Now what would the verdict hold in store?
A lethal injection, A Lover’s pinch, was that the outcome he devoutly wished?
Else he would get the world and time to contemplate his awful crimes.
He’d be Locked away from the world of men; never to be free again.
Haunted by souls he condemned to death; who had cursed him with their dying breath.


Life, the jury has decreed, as punishment for his awful deed.


He'll be locked in the prison of his mind; an awful penance is this gift of time.
James Holmes murdered 12 and injures 70 others in Aurora Colorado on 07/20/2012. He had been sentenced to life in prison. The jury rejected the death penalty
John F McCullagh Aug 2015
A Dentist from Weehawken was feeling miserably;
Depressed, down in the mouth, you know how that can be.
Walt thought salt air would do him good and so he went to sea.
He chartered a large fishing boat and paid a hefty fee.
They set a course for Georges Bank where clam and cod abound.
For centuries this place has been a fertile fishing ground.
With bated breath and baited hook, Walter set his line.
He’d catch some rays and have some beers and have a real good time.
But Fate had other plans for him, things took a darker turn.
Those who fish for sport, not food, are beasts as he’d soon learn.
A tug upon his line foretold the battle to take place
It nearly pulled him from his chair and so began the chase.
What monster he had on his line, the dentist didn’t know.
He played the creature skillfully as it thrashed to and fro.
The massive tuna breached the waves and landed with a splat,
It wore coke bottle glasses and a red Greek fishing hat.
Walt, the dentist, looked upon his catch and was aghast
As “Charlie, the Star-Kist tuna, gasped and breathed his last.
The dentist took a “selfie” that was seen the world around.
Charlie, the Tuna with good taste, had been brought to ground.
“Perhaps I’ll mount him on my wall” Walt said thoughtlessly.
Little did he know what this would cost him personally.

These days Walt is in hiding in his Northern Jersey town.
His patients have all left him and he closed his office down.
His car has four slashed tires, there’s graffiti on his walls.
He can’t even go on Facebook, he’s been unfriended by them all.
So if you are a hunter who wants to **** a hippopotamus,
before you shoot be sure to check and see if he's anonymous!
Inspired by the tale of Cecil the Lion
John F McCullagh Aug 2015
My model is a comely lass whose husband has commissioned me.
Her cheeks are flushed with natural blush, her half smile not quite matronly.
This dress is low cut to reveal the rise and falling of her *******.
Lisa has sat for me before (which allows some familiarity.)
This portrait will adorn her home and celebrates her second child.
I could suggest some jest of mine was the cause that made her smile,
but my medium is the truth and rank deceit is not my style.
My brushstrokes capture the last of her youth;
A half smile to intrigue mankind.
Leonardo Da Vinci's "Mona Lisa" was painted in oil on a cottonwood panel and has never needed restoration for over 600 years
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