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Poem

When stretched forever is my day                   
I while the empty hours away                          
in courtrooms dank with men of silk                
proud and tall                                     
lawmakers all                                                
step lightly lest you meet their ilk            

Attorneys and stenographers                                  
lawyers and interpreters                                 
each word they spake is tongue-in-cheek;        
lear-ned judges, advocates                            
prosecutors, barristers                                  
spew Latin which could well be Greek             

The courtroom's packed
the gallery stacked
the charge is one of pilfering
the bookie sets
last-minute bets:
"10 to 1 his head will swing."

From the ord'ly
fing'ring his rosary:
"Court's in session!  Silence!  Zip it!"
His Lordship enters
sans his dentures
sucks his thumb and looks decrepit

Eyes his gavel
sneers: "You're evil!
my thumb is swollen and beet-red
you'll be detained
when next again
I miss and hit my thumb instead.

"The weather vane
predicted rain
today I'll suffer agony
you caveman's hammer
how did you
till now escape technology?"

To put it mild,
the crowd goes wild
but for the shifty-eyed accused
Judge Weatherstorm
stays true to form:
he keeps his audience amused

Th' accused meanwhile
with comely smile
winks at M'Lord to cut him slack
he'll cop a plea
of not guilty
tho' evidence against him's stacked

The star witness
non compos mentis
brain well-addled by Alzheimer's
mounts the stand
bows to his fans
with clenched fist vows the truth to utter ...

(PART 2 TO FOLLOW)
 
28.04.2011

(This is a work of fiction in its entirety and merely a satirical look at our corrupt
justice system.)

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