A Horse is a Horse

A horse is a horse, of course of course
Unless that horse is a tool of the state.
In which case this poor creature has been forced
for consent it cannot communicate.

Its rider sitting atop its back,
The horse thinks it’s just giving a ride
To the nice men who feed it out back
in the stables where the horse resides.

The horse knows not what’s going on
that its rider is in fact an enforcer
Wielding his badge, pistol and baton
to impose his interpretation of order.

Horses were meant to gallop and play
be petted, cared for and loved
Not to be used in this unnatural way
To look down on people from above

By an officer sworn to protect and serve
The state, certainly not the people
And when he feels like it, he even has the nerve
To use force against all, able-bodied or feeble.

Kick a cuffed man in the face, shoot the family pet
His badge grants him those extra rights
He can lie, he can steal, and you can surely bet
He’ll get away with it, as cops have little oversight

Enforcers no longer need to ride horses
With all their vehicular toys
But equines are still conscripted by police forces
So cops can pretend to be cowboys

So if you happen to see a cop on mount
From your state or local force
Just widen your eyes, point and shout,
“Hey! Someone get that pig off that horse!”

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Originally published in The Desert Lynx

About the author
After nearly a decade as a journalist in New York City, Daniel Cuevas now writes poetry for the page as well as the microphone. Daniel currently resides in Manchester, NH.