Tonight I turned the TV off.
And it was better OFF.
And I was better off.

I called my daughter asked her how she was and we talked for an hour ‘bout stuff.
I told her I loved her and she said it back and the emotion was real enough.

And my son called from Texas, said his car needed a tire and he asked me what I thought he should do.
So I asked him if he had a usable spare, he said no, I said better buy two.

Then I made me a sandwich (the TV still off!) and I picked up a book and I READ!!
The plot started to thicken, my pulse started to quicken, but by then it was near time for bed.

So I didn’t watch ‘Wheel’ and I didn’t watch news and I didn’t watch Late Night at all.
I didn’t watch weather, though through the window, I could see the snow starting to fall.
I didn’t watch Stars Dance on anyone’s toes, didn’t watch ******* give some girl a rose.  
Didn’t watch re-runs of sit-coms I’ve seen, and I didn’t watch Judy the Judge being mean.

Tonight I turned the TV off.
And it was better OFF.
And I was better off.

On January 20th, according to police and CBSChicago website, a 40 year old Algonquin, Illinois woman shot her 50” Panasonic flat screen TV with a rifle while her 3 children watched.  She didn’t like what they were watching and she thought they watched too much TV in general.  Makes complete sense to me.  I mean if you just unplugged it those **** kids would probably just plug it in again.   Elvis also used to shoot TVs.  Allegedly the King would grab a handy pistol and shoot out the TV every time Robert Goulet was on.  He probably had to be a better shot than the lady from Algonquin.  I don’t think they had 50” flat screens back then.

Seems like the Boss couldn’t find anything worth watching on TV:

So I bought a .44 magnum, it was solid steel cast,
And in the blessed name of Elvis, well, I just let it blast,
'Til my TV lay in pieces there at my feet,
And they busted me for disturbing the almighty peace.
—Bruce Springsteen, "57 Channels (And Nothin' On)"

Who could forget Henry John Deutschendorf, Jr.’***** song about finding peace?

Blow up your TV, throw away your paper, go to the country, build you a home.

Plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches, try and find Jesus on your own.

Come on, EVERYBODY knows John Denver’s real name!

So it wasn’t like the lady from Algonquin, Illinois was hearing voices or anything crazy like that.  These were real people telling her what had to be done.  I mean there was PRECEDENT set!

And I think that maybe the lady, though a bit extreme, and now answering to DCFS, is onto something.  Maybe TV is the source of all the world’s problems and unrest.  Maybe we should all exercise our God Given right to bear arms (hold off there big fella, that’s a whole nuther issue).  Maybe we should all just unplug the TVs for an hour or a day or a week or a month, and see what happens?!  World Peace?

Well I know that this is a poetry site, and except for some lyrics from a couple of old songs I haven’t written any poetry, so here goes:

Better OFF

Tonight I turned the TV off.
And it was better off.
And I was better off.

I called my daughter asked her how she was and we talked for an hour ‘bout stuff.
I told her I loved her and she said it back and the emotion was real enough.

And my son called from Texas, said his car needed a tire and he asked me what I thought he should do.
So I asked him if he had a usable spare, he said no, I said better buy two.

Then I made me a sandwich (the TV still off!) and I picked up a book and I READ!!
The plot started to thicken, my pulse started to quicken, but by then it was near time for bed.

So I didn’t watch ‘Wheel’ and I didn’t watch news and I didn’t watch Late Night at all.
I didn’t watch weather, though through the window, I could see the snow starting to fall.
I didn’t watch Stars Dance on anyone’s toes, didn’t watch ******* give some girl a rose.  
Didn’t watch re-runs of sit-coms I’ve seen, and I didn’t watch Judy the Judge being mean.

Tonight I turned the TV off.
And it was better off.
And I was better off.

"Do your poems always rhyme?", she asked. "No, he answered."

If I had found a magic lamp in 1982,
And it produced a genie,
As magic lamps are wont to do,
And the genie granted me one wish,
Not three or even two,
I’d have wished to have a daughter –
A daughter just like you.

She’d be the perfect baby, she’d never cry (too loud),
She’d be smart - almost a genius,
My friends would all be wowed!
She’d be a scholar AND an athlete,
She’d stand out in every crowd,
She would win at everything she tried,
And make me very proud!

She be cute just like her Mother,
Blue eyes, and long blond hair,
Though her smile might sometimes cover
A sadness in her heart,
There could never be another,
If the genie did his part.

I  don’t believe in genies, the magic lamp I must have missed.
I’ve never found a princess,
In any frog I’ve ever kissed.
But of all the things that I AM proud of,
At the far top of the list,
Is the daughter that I wished for,
Because she DOES exist.
I love YOU, Keri!

On the last day of school
Rings final bell
Hop on our bicycles
Pedal like Hell
Down to the ball field
Perhaps the town square
It didn’t matter
Our friends would be there.

All joking and laughing
Some cussing out loud
No teacher to hear us
Impressing our crowd
Pitching some pennies
Buying ice cream and pop
Only curfews and darkness
Could make this all stop.

See’ya tomorrow!
Goin’ down to the pool?
Yeah ANYthing’s better
Than goin’ to school
I have to work
Man that’s a ******
Nothing was better
Than the first day of summer!
PwL 3/24/15

I stand in front of the mirror; It’s confusing to see,
A thousand faces looking back at me.
A gray haired old man,
A boy of eighteen,
One guy is nice,
The other selfish and mean.
One knows where he’s at.
Another is lost,
He looks for direction
No matter the cost.

One has much confidence.  One insecure.
One gives up easily, and one can endure
The trials and hardships
Inherent to life.
One is dull, plain, and boring
Another sharp as a knife.
One is happy and joyful,
One can’t stop the tears,
That fall freely and frequently,
As he ages in years.

One is satisfied with what he’s accomplished to date.
Another looks at the world with envy and hate,
And wonders why others
Are passing him by,
Should he laugh at himself?
Or silently cry?
One believes in a power,
Much greater than self,
Another, a hypocrite,
Puts his faith on a shelf.

One knows lots of people; One a loner by choice.
One never speaks out.  One revels in his voice,
Tells his story to all,
Who will listen (pretend?)
While they wait and they hope
That the story will end.
One still has hope,
Another hope-less;
One tracks dirt through the house.
Another cleans up the mess.

One looks at the world, poised to attack,
Another seems not to care; he is calm and laid back,
One wants to know more,
One has seen way too much.
One wants to hold tighter,
One recoils from the touch.
There are too many faces,
None of them clear,
So I turn out the light,
I walk away from the mirror.

Volcanic Poet
Molten words, ash chokes the air
Hardens by the Sea

‘Twas the start of March Madness,
And all through the land,
People sat by the TV
With pencils in hand.

The committee had chosen the teams with great care
And everyone hoped their Alma Mater was there.
The teams were selected and placed into regions
With top seeds rewarded for having good seasons.

Badger fans from Wisconsin were
All dressed in Red
With Final Four visions
Dancing  ‘round in their heads.

Kentucky fans claimed
(As they most always do)
The Championship would go
To their Wildcats in blue.

The Blue Devils from Durham
Were also quite hot
And the Duke fans were certain
They would win the top spot.

‘Nova fans were excited; their hopes are alive!
Remember the upset?  1985
An 8-seed back then, this year they're a One!
Villanova Wildcat fans are sure to have fun! xxxxxxx already done.

Now the ‘play-ins’ are over.
But I’m not sure who won
Doesn't matter, the winner
Will be trounced by a One.

I, with cold beer and my bracket,
Settle down in a chair
I’ve picked all the games
Now I’ll see how they fare.

Now Badgers, Now Boilers,
Now Hawkeyes and Bucks,
On Hoosiers, On Hoyas,
On Shockers, and Ducks
Go Flyers, Go Sooners, Come On Musketeers!
Go Cardinals, Go Cowboys….   Gonna need some more beers.

Then all of a sudden arose such a clatter
On the tube Sir Charles was starting to chatter.
“I’m the Round Mound of Rebound, - there’s no one like me!”
“Watch all my commercials, NCAA on TV!”

From Thursday through Sunday
On to Sweet Sixteen,
Elite Eight, Final Four and
All the games in between.
The nation is watching from East Coast to West
Which of the 60+ teams will be best.
With OTs and upsets and a blowout or two,
I am glued to the TV and
I’ll bet so are you.

I closed my eyes for a second, and then fell asleep

But was quickly awakened by my doorbell's loud beep,

And what, to my wondering eyes should appear?

But Sir Charles himself;
 And he asks for a beer!

"I'm not a role model, I just like to dunk.

I took a look at your bracket, and
Most all your picks stunk!"
I turned to ask him to fix it,
But he'd disappeared.
Yes, Sir Charles was gone,

And so was my beer!

Now my bracket is busted,
I’m all out of beer
Merry Madness to all,
I will see you next year!

"A Visit from St. Nicholas", also known as "The Night Before Christmas" and " ' Twas the Night Before Christmas" from its first line, is a poem first published anonymously in 1823, and later attributed to Clement Clarke Moore, who acknowledged authorship in 1837.   from Wikipedia.

Unfortunately, Mr. Moore never had the chance to experience March Madness.  :-)

Waking skies
At Sunrise,
Ev'ry sunset too,
Seems to be
Bringing me
Memories of you.


Here and there,
Ev'rywhere,
Scenes that we once knew,
And they all
Just recall
Memories of you.


How I wish I could forget
Those happy yesteryears
That have left a rosary of tears.


Your face beams
In my dreams,
Spite of all I do!
Ev'rything
Seems to bring
Memories of you.


How I wish I could forget
Those happy yesteryears
That have left a rosary of tears.


Your face beams
In my dreams,
Spite of all I do!
Ev'rything
Seems to bring
Memories,
All those memories of you.

Andy Razaf, circa 1930

Oh to be trending with
Praise never ending
For poems I’ve shared on this site.

Likes and reposts give me
Reason to boast -
Justify staying up through the night.

Notifications are
Cause for elation;
The judges DO like what I write!

But a poem too plain
Causes heartache and pain, and
Is often my poor poet’s plight.

No comments, no hearts,
Silence tears me apart
As the view numbers start to get high.

Doesn’t anyone care?
Is it cause for despair?
Don’t they know how hard that I try?

And who really can blame us?
Our desire to be famous
Is a standard set forth at our birth.

Though it’s narcissistic,
We allow some statistics
To define the extent of our worth.

When I group words together
My soul is the tether;
I am sharing a part of myself.

The peril I fear
Is that no one will hear
As the words gather dust on a shelf.

So when the words are ‘bout right
I choose to quit for the night,
Add some tags, then I hit save and send,

‘Cuz when all’s said and done
We’re just writing for fun,  
Who cares if the **** thing will trend!
PwL   March, 2015

“Will you please leave the light on?”
Said the young Boy to his Dad.
“I’m kinda scared at night time, but
I hope that you’re not mad ‘cuz when
I am grown up big like you, I won’t be afraid no more
Then you can turn the light off and even shut the door.”

“It’s not the dark that scares me.”
Said the Father to his Son.
“It’s the early hours of morning
When the light has just begun
To creep in through the window,
Push the darkness from the room and
Sweep away the shadows like an
Illuminating broom.”

“So why’s the morning scare you, Dad?”
“I really like the day.  I get dressed and Mom makes breakfast,
I get to watch TV and play.
Sometimes we go out shopping and buy groceries and stuff,
She might buy me an ice cream cone – if I’m good enough.”

The Father laughed, sat on the bed, and held his small Son’s hand.
“I wish I could explain it, Son, in a way you’d understand.
At night the dark can hide the truth, I dream and make big plans.
Then morning brings reality to my castles built in sand.
While you and Mom have breakfast, I have to go to work.
I have RE-SPON-SI-BIL’-ITY and duties I can’t shirk.
People there DEPEND-ON-ME.  I don’t want to LET-THEM-DOWN.”
Dad suddenly stopped talking when he saw his young Boy frown.

“It sounds like you don’t like your work.”
“You should stay home with Mom and me!
Then you can help make breakfast, and it’ll be us three.
We’ll have a really good time - you won’t be afraid of day.
We’ll help Mom do the dishes, then we’ll go out and play.
Maybe you can pitch some ***** and I can learn to bat?
‘Cuz please don’t tell her, but you know - Mom isn’t good at that.
But she can go out shopping, and we’ll stay home alone,
And, DAD, if you are REALLY good, I’ll make YOU an ice cream cone!”

Dad leaned over, kissed his Son, and said, “I think I might.”
“You said some things that I forgot, and I think you got it right.
I know you and Mom DEPEND-ON-ME, and
I have RE-SPON-SI-BIL’-ITY
To help her make the breakfast and to help you learn to bat,
And maybe I’m afraid of day ‘cuz I’ve been forgetting that.
So tonight I’ll leave my light on
And I’ll leave your light on, too.
And tomorrow morning, when it’s light, I’ll stay home with you!
PwL 1990 to 2015

Winter’s coming.
I feel it in my bones and my body.
I sense it.  I smell it.  I see it in the mirror.
I stand here now with
My back against the fall.

I stand here with my back against the fall, and
Try to remember all that I have learned.  I
Try to comprehend what happens in the end, and I
Try to pretend that the falling snow will melt,
And that my hair will turn dark again.

The early snows DO melt, for winter is a malicious *******.
A brief hot sun melts and muddies the early snows which
Slosh under my boots and cause me to make a mess on the living room carpet.
I track the mess down the hall, shed my clothes and kick my muddied boots
Into a corner, and
Stand naked in front of the mirror, with
My back against the fall.

I draw a bath of warm memories and
Congratulate myself on the success and excess of an ungrateful life.
I laugh at cold winter outside the window until I realize the birds aren’t singing. Where are the birds?  And the flowers?  And the children playing in the yard?
The mirror, and the window, steam up, and suddenly I can’t remember anything!
I use my palm to rub the steam from the glass and see only leafless trees and the
Icy reality of truth.  I stand, staring, with
My back against the fall.

I dry and dress and know that I must clean the mess I have made on the carpet.
But the carpet is ruined and I roll it up and throw it out only to discover and uncover
The failures and sins of summer.  And I stand with
My back against the fall, and
Then I understand it all!

The leaves will come again in spring, the grass will grow, the birds will sing.
The children once again will play, the sun will drive the cold away!
My sins have been forgiven and forgotten and no one noticed my failures but me.
And as others stand with their back against the fall, I may be a memory,
But I will not be here.  I open the door and step into winter.
PwL 3/20/15

A leprechaun up in a tree
Drank so much beer that he couldn't see
An unlucky fella
Without an umbrella
Passed by and got drenched with green ***.

How can you say
That you’re doing ok,
If the road doesn’t have any curves?
You got miles to drive,
Stay awake, stay alive
Meet the challenges life always serves,
You start out driving fast,
But the feeling won’t last
And complacency won’t win the race.
You can tell who is there,
By the look of despair
And the blank, vacant stare on their face.

Yeah, you’re gonna need help,
You can’t survive by yourself;
And you may even pass someone by.
Never look in the mirror
‘Cause you don’t want to hear
The friends that you left behind cry.
So you’re living at last,
Got no time for the past,
And the future is still miles away,
Better not close your eyes,
‘Cause the road’s a disguise
You have to listen to what the signs say.

As you start to get older,
Nights will get a lot colder
And the engine is starting to fail.
Takes more time to react,
Then you take a look back, and
Other drivers are right on your tail.
Should you pull the car over,
And drive on the shoulder?
Or speed up as they flip you the bird?
They may scream in your face -
May think you’re a disgrace -
Smile back like you just never heard!

‘Cause the race isn’t over
When you’re pushing up clover
Other drivers may be miles ahead
Some are just getting started
Some already departed
In a few miles we all will be dead.
It’s not about driving
Living… surviving, or
Accepting the way that you feel.
There’s a much bigger plan
You’re just lending a hand,
By taking your turn at the wheel.

Spring came quickly and
Ended abruptly.
Summer came sweaty and hot.
Autumn winds blew the leaves from the trees and
By the time Winter came, we forgot.

Spring came quickly and ended abruptly.
But it will come again.
Birth and growth and hope and dreams
Learning to live in a freshly made joyous world with
Only the overstated problems of the youth, and
None of the fears of the aged.
Curiosity and wonder and eternal rebirth.

Summer came sweaty and hot.
Long hours of hard labor.
Work and growth and goals and dreams
Chasing elusive, sometimes irresponsible goals often
At the expense of happiness and contentment.
Adrenalin filled days and nights
Peaks and valleys and elastic resolve.

Autumn winds blew the leaves from the trees.
Exposing naked branches,
And squirrel’s nests abandoned by the owners who are
Preparing for the months ahead
Without understanding why.
Others, with lessor goals, content and
Ever resting.

By the time Winter came we forgot.
It arrives too soon.
Memories of growth and hope and regrets
Realizing the fears of the aged have arrived and
Will never leave.
Understanding that Seasons change and
In Winter, life on earth recedes.

Spring came quickly and ended abruptly.

How should we mourn our Mother?
Who gave us Life and Love and Dreams.
How do we tell the world we love her?
Tears are not enough, it seems.
Should we sing a song of tribute?
Build a monument of stone?
Or find a quiet corner, and
Meditate alone?

We remember words of comfort.
When we needed her the most.
We remember cheerful laughter,
Should we then raise a toast?
To Her Life, Her Love, Her Memory!
For Memories never die.
Remember, though, when we’re alone
That it’s ok to cry.

Mom's journey ended early
And we must stay and grieve.
Days and weeks pass slowly
When our friends and family leave,
Memories, often blurry,
Run together like the weeks
And can’t repel the sadness
Or give the solace that we seek.

But though we mourn her passing
In unique and private ways,
We must remember what she taught us,
And how she lived her days
With humor, grace, and patience,
With love for family, and friends.
We must pass it forward always
Our gift to her, that never ends.

pwl 12/14

Take comfort in your faith,
Imperfect it may be
The soul that you've devoted
God, alone can see.
He knows and understands you,
Hears your questions, feels your pain.
He gave His Son to save us,
He would do it all again.
So when the night is darkest,
You're in the Garden all alone,
Know it was God who sent you there,
He is there to bring you Home.

pwl - long ago
Have posted this in honor of Mom, Norma Lee Lindsey,
May 7, 1932 - November 15, 2014

I see your bags all packed for leavin’
And I’m sure you have a reason
But there ain’t no reason I could understand.

You tell me you need freedom
And I wish I could believe ya
But I think your ‘freedom’ means another man.

So if freedom’s just a cover
And you’re leavin’ for another
Here’s my advice – I hope it makes some sense

You should compare the life your choosin’
With the one that you’ll be losin’
Cuz the grass ain’t always greener on the far side of the fence.

No the grass ain’t always greener on the far side of the fence –
Sometimes it’s a confusing shade of brown
Compare the life your choosin’
With the one that you’ll be losin’
Life might not be better on the other side of town.


Yeah, he’s probably real good lookin’
Tells you he just loves your cookin’
Takes you clubbin’ and goes dancin’ all night long.

But at night when you are sleepin’
Midnight memories come creepin’
Do you shed a tear when you hear our favorite song”

Think hard before you cut the cord,
Don’t choose a life you can’t afford
Don’t ever want you having no regrets.

Consider what you’re doin’,
And all the lives you’ll ruin
The grass might not be greener on the far side of the fence.

No the grass ain’t always greener on the far side of the fence –
Sometimes it’s a confusing shade of brown
Consider what you’re doin’,
And all the lives you’ll ruin
Life might not be better on the other side of town.


Well I guess that I’ll stop the lecture now
Cuz you ain’t listenin’ anyhow
There's nothing more that I can say or do.

I’ll help you haul your bags outside
That Cadillac must be your ride
I hope the driver takes good care of you.

And baby you can keep my key
Consider it a gift from me
I’ll go on livin’ in the present tense.

Then when I’m done with my friend Jack,
Most likely I won’t want you back
Cuz' I like the color green I got on my side of the fence.

Yeah I like the color green I got on my side of the fence
No matter what I'm gonna hold my ground
Then when I’m done with my friend Jack,
Most likely I won’t want you back
I like the color green I got on my side of the town.
pwl 2014

Ketchup on French Fries and big juicy Burgers
All kinds of Candy just loaded with Sugars
Cold Beer and Pizza and Buffalo Wings
These are a few of my favorite things!

Cream in my Coffee with Crisp Apple Strudels
Spaghetti and Meatballs and Schnitzel with Noodles
Warm Pecan Pie with a Scoop of Ice Cream
These are the foods that I see when I dream!

Chocolate Cupcakes with Caramel Icing
Cookies and Brownies and Fudge – so enticing
Turkey and Dressing and anything Fried
If I say these aren’t favorite foods then I’ve lied!

When the scale breaks, when my clothes shrink, when I’m feelng fat,
I simply forego all my favorite foods
And then I don’t feel so Bad!

There was a good golfer named Jim
Whose hearing and eyesight were dim
With the match on the line,
He started to whine -
Because he wanted putts given to him.

A lawyer named Jim from Dundee
Prepared his friend's wills - all for free!
When asked why, he said,
"Because when they're all dead,
They've left all their assets to me.

A beer-drinking guy in a bar
Took a willing young girl to his car
But before they got started,
The old ******* farted
And they died like two bugs in a jar.

A farmer named Mordecai Brown
Took his 3-legged dog into town
The dog could do many tricks,
Like fetching thrown sticks,
But when he tried to shake hands, he fell down.

Then the dog learned to walk on two feet
Now when both of them walk down the street
The dog dances around
All over the town
And shakes hands with who ever he meets!!

An Elephant and a Giraffe
Relaxed in a whirlpool bath
"Move your trunk," Giraffe begged,
"It's draped over my leg."
"It's not my trunk," the Elephant laughed!

Precious Metals

She’s got steel-blue eyes and an iron will
A lead-foot when she’s driving
A silver tongue but she never lies,
Brassy bold when she’s conniving.
She’s precious metals all mixed up
And I’ll love her till she’s old….
Cause the precious metal I love best
Is her heart made out of gold.

She’s got a smile that turns me upside down,
Inside out and every which way
And I hope I’ll get to see that smile
Every morning, every new day.
When she laughs the world’s ecstatic
When she’s angry they look out,
Cause she’s precious metals all mixed up
And here’s what she’s about:

She’s got steel-blue eyes and an iron will
A lead-foot when she’s driving
A silver tongue but she never lies,
Brassy bold when she’s conniving.
She’s precious metals all mixed up
And I’ll love her till she’s old….
Cause the precious metal I love best
Is her heart made out of gold.

She’s got a dynamite body that’ll knock you out
Sometimes she says things without thinkin’
And she likes a good martini,
So she’s fun to take out drinkin’.
She sets her goals and standards high,
Not afraid to chase her dreams
She’s precious metals all mixed up
And this is how she seems:

She’s got steel-blue eyes and an iron will
A lead-foot when she’s driving
A silver tongue but she never lies,
Brassy bold when she’s conniving.
She’s precious metals all mixed up
And I’ll love her till she’s old….
Cause the precious metal I love best
Is her heart made out of gold.

Yeah, She’s precious metals all mixed up
And I’ll love her till she’s old….
Cause the precious metal I love best
Is her heart made out of gold.

PwL 12/06

“If  I could only paint,” the despondent poet said,
“If  I could only paint, I would surely knock’em dead.
Like Rembrandt or Picasso, like Whistler or Van Gogh.
I’d open up a gallery, and everyone  would see
The pictures that I’d painted and they would envy me!”

“If I could write a novel,” the painter empathized.
“If I could write a novel, then I’d have realized,
My dream to be like Hemingway, Faulkner or Thoreau.
I’d be in all the book stores, my books would be top shelf,
And I would finally know that I’d made something of myself.”

“If I could hit a baseball,” the author next agreed,
“If I could hit a baseball, I’d be in the major league.
I’d hit home runs like Willie Mays, and run like Shoeless Joe.
The fans would come to all the parks to see me lead the team,
The kids would want my autograph, and all the crowd would scream.”

“If I was smart,” the ballplayer said, “And studied law in school,”
“Then I could be the President, and I’d make all the rules.
I’d be as great as Washington, FDR, and Honest Abe.
I would meet with foreign diplomats, and help the world find peace,
All America would know my name; Play ‘Hail to the Chief’”

“If I could write a poem,” the President bowed his head,
“If I could write a poem, my ego would be fed.
I’d describe the beauty of a flower, and the winds that softly blow;
I’d keep my poems in a journal, let no one ever see,
And be content in knowing that I had done it just for me.”
pwl 3/7/03

In a nation torn with racial strife
Where killing seems a way of life
Where rappers hold the people’s court
And looting is a favorite sport
Where drugs and thugs, both black and white,
Govern day and rule the night
When Superman is fast asleep
And shadows o’er the addicts creep
And rain don’t wash away the smell
From where it comes it’s hard to tell
Cuz truth ain’t always what it seems
When judges judge and lawyers scream
At least two sides in every fight
And everybody knows what’s right
Cuz the FacebookYouTube miracle
Sends evidence empirical
Across the globe at speeds of light
While the real truth stays out of sight
Hidden by gray overcoats
While politicians gather votes
And make the nation safe again
For women, children, mortal men.

But there are heroes on the street
Men and women you don’t meet
Unless of course you break the law
And you know that sticks in your craw
When a thousand thoughts are in your head
And you don’t see the light turn red
Or you’re headed to a meeting-late
And you’re only going eighty-eight
And the State Cop says “The Law is Clear”
“The limit’s sixty-five right here”
You grumble but you pay the fine
And wonder why he wastes his time
But the Cop has seen a different view
He knows what eighty-eight can do
The mangled steel and shattered glass
Maybe he just saved your ***.

In cities large and village small
Policemen answer every call
In every town and every city
Sometimes it ain’t very pretty
Protect and Serve when Hell breaks loose
Mere seconds, all they have to choose
What course of action they must take
And pray to God there’s no mistake
Cuz each Monday Morning Quarterback
Will pick a side and then attack
And argue based on “evidence”,
“What they would do”, and “common sense”
While sitting in an easy chair
So very thankful they weren’t there
And radicals from either side
Make threats and say the other lied
And which of us, if we weren’t there
Could ever judge a verdict fair?
Families grieve and loved ones cry
Both innocent and guilty die
Sometimes truth ain’t black or white
Only God knows wrong from right.
pwl 1/7/15

On Valentine's Day
Cards red with hearts and flowers
Cards read with love.