On The Beat In Jersey City Poem by Philip Lore

With a pistol strapped to my side,
I see frightened people,
They run, they hide.
A badge of silver, adorns my chest,
A second chance, a bullet proof vest.
I walk my beat down the Greenville side,
My chest fills deep, I beam with pride.

On these mean, dark streets,
Stripped cars, their frames on crates,
Check the doors, watch the alley,
Stores locked behind steel gates.

Wise guys swagger in silk Italian suits,
Black Panthers stroll wearing black combat boots.
Juvenile gangs taunt everyone,
Carrying knives, armed with a gun.

Working 'The Hood',
Layered in crime,
Keeping the peace,
Putting in time.

Turning your back is a dangerous thing,
Answer the 'Call Box', when you hear it ring..
I've learned to be tough, kind and witty,
Walking a beat....alone.... in Jersey City.