The Diminishing Blue Line

The Diminishing Blue Line

The Diminishing Blue Line

This poem is dedicated to all the frontline police officers around the globe.


The diminishing blue line

Twenty plus years I had a career
of putting my life on the line. 
Flying the flag on behalf of the service
Whilst sorting the next nine-nine-nine. 

Eager to right and ready to fight
in spite of unfavourable odds.
Give marriage guidance to keep the Queen’s peace
between the same families of yobs. 

Spat on and shat on with little respect
the public increases demand. 
Spat on and shat on with sod all succour
from those up above in command. 

No time for welfare just jobs in a queue
Officers sent single crewed. 
Grade one domestics or fights breaking out
a cop has no option to choose. 

Our rest days get cancelled, our breaks get cut short
our pensions illegally changed. 
Substandard equipment has little effect
when fighting with fools on cocaine.

We took on the chin that our numbers were thin
yet still kept the wheel on each day.
But now where we stand – and throughout the land –
that iconic blue line fades away.

If bitter I’m sounding, then bitter I am
your protectors are down on their knees.
Pleading with Government to do something more
but they just ignore all our pleas.

Our Fed says it fights to enforce basic rights
of officers stuck in this farce. 
They promise a win but fall for the spin
When the Home Office shafts their weak arse.  

Oh, but here’s a free pen colleagues!!

A service we are and PC we must be,
transparent despite the effects. 
We’ve opened the gates and now it’s too late. 
We’ve lost all belief and respect.

It’s becoming inherent that arrest’s no deterrent
When offenders get slapped on the wrist. 
Enforcing the law seems appropriate no more
As it’s all about setting them free. 

Example A. 

Offender demands a most stern reprimand. 
For an officer doing his job. 
“Cos the Taser he used made my skin red and bruised, and right now I can’t feel ma nob!”

Boo – f**king – hoo!

However …

Complaint Upheld. Officer disciplined. 
Offender – released without charge – went on to stab his partner!

The rights of the racist, the robber, the rapist, are something you daren’t compromise. 
Yet help for the victims – who suffer the traumas – is rapidly on the demise. 

As for me?  
Well …

I’ve broken my bones, been kicked in the nose
been shot at and threatened with knives. 
My spine is all twisted
My health not so good. 
I’m thinking a cat has less lives.

Though hard to report, I  asked for support
to cope with my PTSD. 
I held  a belief that the ‘family’ still cared
How wrong could an officer be?

And so …

Battered and bruised, deflated, abused
With no more the will to fight on.
I look to the time,  just a few days away
When I can say “See ya, I’m gone!”

But let me just end with this footnote my friends
By saying it’s not all been coarse. 
Those days way back when
I would do them again. 
If they’d let us police as a force. 

If only!

P. A. Davies.


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