My rubber bullets smashed in the face of a veteran
and then I picked up a kitten ever so gently.
I was the perfect picture of a policeman.
I was only one person in one battalion
just doing his job, and doing it superbly.
My rubber bullets smashed in the face of a veteran
but orders are orders. I followed the game plan,
and my bosses said I acted honorably.
I was the prefect picture of a policeman
with my dark uniform, black helmet and shotgun.
Who cares if I shot a dirty fucking hippy?
My rubber bullets smashed in the face of a veteran
(the papers say) but that guy was a danger, man.
Someone had to stand up for the citizenry.
I was the perfect picture of a policeman
working overtime to enforce the city’s ban
against the mob and its freedom of assembly.
My rubber bullets smashed in the face of a veteran
and I’m sorry he’s got a broken skull, but damn
if these aren’t hard times, and I need my salary.
My rubber bullets smashed in the face of a veteran.
I was the perfect picture of a policeman.
*
My thoughts go out to Scott Olsen, his friends and his family in this, their hour of need. He was a courageous man peacefully defending our country’s freedoms and doing his best to protect the Occupy Oakland protestors from harm, and he did not deserve a “non-lethal” projectile fired at his head by some thoughtless and cowardly law enforcement officer.
[Note for non-poets: this poem is a known as villanelle, and the form requires that certain lines repeat throughout the poem. For more information on villanelles, please go to this website.]
