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
x
Amos Keppler
2012-01-01
x
Poetry from my collection Secrets. With special thanks to a friend of mine, who told me he had nothing against police officers.