Tuesday, January 03, 2012

The bullies' ball

I am a boy with a certain taste
I pump iron and strike sacks
With my sore hands and strong feet
I love seeing fear in people's eyes

I played with kittens when I was a kid
They squealed and loved it
When I burned them with cigarettes
And beat them with sticks

My first girlfriend squealed in gratitude
When I showed her who is the boss
When I beat her ass sore
When I slapped her around

I am a girl with a certain taste
I pump iron and strike sacks
With my sore hands and strong feet
I love seeing fear in people's eyes

My first boyfriend
Didn't like it when it turned rough
When i tied him up
And whipped his ass

I made him cry out in joy
I made him beg for more
And gave him everything
That has become his heart's desire

I slammed punks on the street
And foureyes in the schoolyard
Throughout my enjoyable teens
It felt good, felt so very right

I struggled with finding my place
The world didn't seem quite right
Didn't really live up to my
Expectations, you know

Today is a big day
We received our uniforms
Our blue armor
Our shields and clubs
We stand with equals
In their eyes
We see acceptance
And the thrill
Of familiarity
We have found our calling
Become police officers
Accepting the accolades
Of an admiring world

Amos Keppler
2012-01-01
With special thanks to my friend Yngve, who told me he had nothing against police officers.
And to the great Occupy-movement, the people who have most recently suffered most of the bully's stick.

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