Poetry

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Never Run Out
A working carpenter has his hammer,
the uniform policeman his reliable gun,
an honest living that holds no glamour,
tools of the trade with work to be done.

Truthfully guns themselves do not kill,
resting on a shelve they just gather dust,
crime of murder is an act of human will,
usually caused by greed, power, and lust,

I’ve been in guns fights over the years,
policemen sometimes have no choice,
sadly they always end with crying tears,
if people would listen to their inner voice.

Down through the ages of passing time,
striving to achieve peace that never lasts,
plagued by psychos and senseless crimes,
while danger lurks never seeming to pass.

Now never run out of bullets in a gun fight,
for the last one with ammo will surely win,
you might be seeing the ever so bright light,
while the authorities notify your next of kin.


Samuel E. Stone, Copyright© 2008, All Audience

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