Sergeant Koenousky

His mother died in a bank robbery
He was born with a bullet in his belly
They call him
Sergeant Koenousky

Been shot many times
With words - bullets - and loneliness
Living this only oneness
Seems he's the only one who cares

When you wonder how it could have been
Anger builds within
Who can release this pain
It's all a game
You catch the crook
Take him t court
You didn't read him his rights
Or you weren't too nice
For an illegal crime
The arrest was not legal?
Because them jails are overcrowded
Justice overturned
A criminal walks free
Another victim there will be

Mister Sergeant Koenousky
Born with a bullet in your belly
You'll die with an ulcer
But no one will dare say you were wrong
Fighting a war that always goes on

That son-of-bitch who shot your mother
Left you alive
Doctors couldn't believe it
Born with a bullet in your belly
God made this happen
And this war will be won
Before you die
Mister Sergeant Koenousky

By:  Roger Harkness


You are free to print, copy or publish any of my poems for education and or charity without my permission (but - send me a note if you have the time). You are not free to print, copy or publish any of my poems for profit without my written consent. You may link my poetry to your website freely without my consent (but if you do, an email would be nice).  Always be sure to give credit to the author Roger Harkness.


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