bluicide?

godless bob coins the term "bluicide," to mean the volitional act by an individual in deliberately provoking an armed police officer, who traditionally wear blue, into shooting them, the individual,  to death as a means of committing suicide.

this is not a recommendation to action for anyone, including the godless one, but just an observation of human behavior that is chosen by some others.

disguise

so this is how it looks 
inside my brand new body bag, 
all black and shiny and sterile too,
with my very own brand new toe tag.
a wise man once said to me,
something wise as they are prone,
"we come to this world with only our skin,
and we leave it all alone." 
with no regard for profit or loss,
or how to do it cheaper,
he has an appointment with everyone of us,
the one they call the reaper.

the reaper lurks shamelessly, 

just beyond our consciousness,

preparing for when he alone decides,

to deliver his deadly kiss. 

he works in silence unbeknownst to us,

and never showing his face,

till suddenly he's close enough 

to lay our lives to waste. 

he doesn't care that you want to stay 

with all of those you love,

and it just may be he appears to you,

as a murderer or a dove.

there's no limit to the myriad of forms he'll take,

but theres even more for you to ponder,

he may come for you as a saintly saint,

or a valued first responder. 

cops like their humor dark like mine,
no knock-knock jokes for them,
the only downside to killing me is,
they can never do it again.
i've told you folks the line is thin,
but that's just poetry in motion,
their line around me puts ft. knox to shame,
and has dispelled me of that notion. 

unmarked cars and nice ones too,

driven by those in blue,

sometimes more numerous than private citizens,

and thats just one of the clues.

they're running up mileage on their crime fighting cars,
they follow me mile after mile,
i think they ought to put those cruisers in park,
and walk with me for awhile.

they think i'm dumb like a box of rocks,

because i want a living cremation,

but there are times like this i clearly possess,

uncanny powers of observation.

it was just a ploy for a closer look,

that made him stop his ride,

to see if, like i said before,

i keep it by my side.

he was asking for the location

of the nearest postal facility,

but everything about this street clothes cop,

screams of incongruity.

he didn't want the one in our local zip code,

or the one in our office building,

it was enough so that i thought for a moment,

he wanted to do something chilling. 

casual conversation is fine with me,

but i can't help but be alarmed,

that there true intent just might be,

to do me irreparable harm. 

this constant surveillance, if it were any one else,

i might think i'm being stalked,

they may be working for that golden opportunity,

to outline my body in chalk.

it's a little confusing, the mixed signals they send,

i'm trying hard to read the signs,

to set in motion the wheels that mean,

the end of my behind.

now, i used to run some years ago,

and i'm certainly out of practice,

but with motivation like this,

and these cards stacked against me,

my run could be galactic. 

whether they're keeping me out or keeping me in,

cops sure know how to set the tone,

because they've got my ass confused as hell,

and i think i'm in the twilight zone.

if it's a a party they're yearning, 
i'll be back in a flash,

i'll order some pizzas and beer,

i've learned to find pure hedonistic pleasure,

in raw unadulterated fear.

am i having fun or am i on the run,

feel free to let me know,

just give me the sign you're ready to begin,

but in fun anything goes.

it's not a pretty sight for the public to see,

my flesh bloodied, twisted and mangled,

but i've an idea, keep it short and sweet,

with one bullet from officer angel. 

i've live my life, let's face the fact,

nobody lives forever,

i'm waiting on these banks for the ferryman to come,

to take me across this river.

"a body bag," such a perverse idea,
a bag to put a body in,
if i knew the reaper would be so soon,
i'd have enjoyed more unpardonable sin.
all is said and all is done,
no fears of growing old,
the reaper has now beckoned me,
and i think i'm growing cold. 
secure inside my body bag,
eternal death now looms,
the reaper has now sealed my death,
no more talk of doom and gloom.

my thoughts are slow, it's dark and cold,

and eerily very still,

i'm peaceful now, no tears in here,

because it is my will.

cold inside my body bag,damp inside my tomb,
this life will never flower again,
this flower will never bloom. 
the fruits of life that give us purpose,
are withered on the vine,
the reaper has now kissed my life,
disguised as the thin blue line.