Best Juror Poems
I fear our next encounter;
haunted by your sight.
Your presence penetrates my heart like a knife.
Your not a man but an intruder,
forcing your way, judge and juror.
Hand down your penalty, much we must take.
Abrasions, contusions, are your biggest mistake.
Hugs and kisses, only come from jerks,
"I LOVE YOU - I'M SORRY",
your BANDAIDS don't work.
Brute force.
Torn at the seams.
Dare to move.
Dare to scream.
Noise not permitted,
take it, be silent.
Withhold your tears in his judgement.
Is there a thin line between DISLIKE and HATE?
Can you define where one begins and the other one waits?
I don't look at the judge. I just look at the jury.
I don't look at the defendant or the defendant's attorney,
nor will I look a the prosecution assistant and or district attorney.
I will listen, not look at anyone giving sworn oath testimony.
As a juror I feel that it's my civic responsibility and duty
to decide strictly upon the evidence and not based on any ones appearance or personality.
My Justice is as blind as justice should be
not withstanding the decision that must be made beyond a reasonable doubt
based upon the hard core physical evidence presented to me that the judge will allow.
Every time I serve as juror, which believe it or not is an honor for me
I'm always dumbfounded by many other juror's stupidity
who are compelled to render this ultimate decision, Guilty or Not Guilty.
I wouldn't want 3/4's of the jurors I've met making such life changing decisions on me.
That's why I'll never turn down an opportunity to serve on a jury.
Everyone is Innocent until proved Guilty and all innocents need a juror like me.
When I informed a former boss that I was summoned to serve for jury duty,
my employer out right said, "Get out of it or you will no longer be employed by me."
Guess what I did. I served on the jury.
I'd rather lose my job, than risk someone who may otherwise be Not Guilty
losing much of their freedom and God given liberties.
*
Another personal note:
In Every Election I Vote.
*
With glorious primordial certainty
the sun will rise, the sun will set;
likewise you languish knowing what you're about,
you know what is and isn’t so;
yet, ultimately, you don’t.
Chained to the chromium railings of
a sterile value system,
some terminal, addled suffragette,
hollow to the very core, quintessentially
punch-drunk by the ghost fists
of what you do not know;
sometimes you can dream, more often you won’t.
This is all you wanted, surely,
way back when Homer was a pup;
this thing you worked for, this cold material cocoon,
this anaesthetic cult to which you belong;
then again, maybe not.
All your wild beasts are chained and in cages
you painstakingly banged them up;
now you act surprised in a wrung-out
monochrome way
at the quiet death of your protest song
with the former self you have forgot.
Just as a virus will seek out a host,
just as water will find it’s own level;
you’re a schizoid, new age, careworn dolt
with no limits to how far your mind will sink
in unfathomable depths of self delusion.
Wrenched this way and that, going with the flow,
serving both God and the Devil;
but where now is the rebel heart,
the hedonistic happy fool,
the keeper of the demon drink?
no more than a crumbling memory,
the feeblest illusion.
Once burning with such crucial fire,
a quiver full of arrows shot with telescopic vision;
now all that burns no more, doubted by the rain
spat from black clouds of self denial;
no remnant traces of an ex-antihero.
Servile to the whims of children,
and an emasculating harpy
who regards you with derision;
you are alone your own executioner
self judge and juror at the kangaroo trial
self sentenced to figure less than zero.
For years they live in shadow
For years they've been mistreated
For years they've been ignored and pushed aside
Black sheep of the family
Blamed for everything
From the broken window to the last place in line
Who is to care?
Seems no one
As long as nothing is broken
Nothing needs to fix
Who is to say we are perfect?
Yet we don't realize the growing malignant malady
Oh America you are supposed to be the beacon of the world
Yet you fall so
You seem deaf to the voice within
The voice of reason
You seem to make up your mind on certain things and not see the obvious
What caused you to be the judge?
Or are you now a juror?
Say bypass
Minds all made up
Fine
You will see once and for all
Who is the juror and who is the judge
None of thee
God does not make anything imperfect
Yet you continue to insist it is
Time to owe up to our mistake
And let our Ruler to be the judge
Time is a wasting
Can't afford to lose it
Time is the essence
Let's not be blowing it
Time is unknown
Let's not misspending it
You can do it
You can correct it
And make it right!!
Hola
Some folks would tell you that a Demon
Lived in all of us
A rapist is a thief
Some public defender isn’t smarter than his client
One is not required to serve as a juror: on every case
With that in mind:
To create a mental trend is easier.
A train to the plane;
It’s really surprising to find
A hockey player who is tame
A police officer with all his fear and anger
A cook without a kitchen: Is like tango without jingo
A philosophy without any gaps
The new breakfast drink debut
Ice coffee in the morning
Mocha latte` all day
Please don’t interfere with what work
To help us during the day
I am a woman that follows the warmth
A tree that wouldn’t blossom
it's worthless creation?
You can eat tree bark
While the lark
Build its lowly nest
On the ground
A philosophy without any gaps
It was time, for my audition - a nice renditition,
I came armed, nothing too predictable, with ammunition;
this offered my chance for fame, only I was to blame
if I messed up, success meant I would never be the same again.
It was good, I knew by the smile on their faces,
now I waited, standing, while my heart really races;
I knew that one juror may give me a hard time,
playing to the gallery, a mountain I might climb.
The unnecessary hype, weirdly prolonged, was irritating,
I heard the voice: 'You know what . . . . ' , procrastinating,
why can"t he just say if he liked the bloody thing or not?
as though he was on another programme and forgot.
It was tiring, waiting for all their second-guesses,
I need not have worried because I got four yesses.
I'm not a criminal
I've got a problem with alcohol,
a murder was committed
and I took the fall.......
Blacked out and dont remember
the events of the night before,
but coming to in a pair of cuffs
and the slamming of a cell door...
The judge read off the charge
that led to my arrest,
He shook his head and said
Son, you have failed at lifes big test....
A unanimous decision of guilty
thats whay the juror read,
a tear spilled down my face
as I realized what was said....
I was sentenced to death
by lethal ejection,
they said I was a cause
of societies infection.....
My last few hours alive
spent with my family brokened hearted,
knowing it wouldn't be much longer
before I'd be departed.....
After my family was led away
I was strapped to the gurney,
the facts weren't even presented
cause I sold out by my attorney,,,,,
Once wheeled into the chamber
they opened the blue curtian,
and all the faces I seen
had looks that were un-certian......
After the poison was injected
my body started to convusle,
and fifteen minutes later
my body had no pulse.....
As the preacher stood over me
he said, Lord, what a mess,
He should have been given a chance
instead of being declared worthless......
Only In America can anyone with common sense
serve as juror and then with persistence
Serve As America's President.
The effects the event the horizon the before and then the after the
miracle of life the hatred of death the
armor of military ensemble the unstoppable the plague the cure the
smiling down on a child frowning down on idleness
The lake the shore the hunger for more the rivers the streams the
sun that beams down on black white and
everything that walks and sings the lighter the flame the bridge over
troubled waters the fathers with no
daughters no the daughters with no supporters the poor that's
getting poorer the people that's out of order the
beginning the ending don't tell the ending the blabber mouth the
seduction the animal instincts the people that
dont think that's on the brink of disaster the boredom the
excitement the juror the indictment the irresponsible
the irreplaceable lawyer the war hero also known as the warrior the
God in me the energy the synergy
He is your majesty He's in me actively the creator the jealous one
The only one the only begotten son the
God of Israel the God that heals so therefore I conclude that I am
healed just by These words
" The Crimson-Conscience-Juror ... "
Scarlet Ribbons On Her Arms
Red Lights In Her Mirror
Best Friend Blood, On Her Hands
and A Crimson-Conscience-Juror
A Ton of Fire-Bricks On Her Head
Burgundy Wine, In Her Cup
Marooned On Her Tortured Island
Tasting, As Rasberry-Razors Cut
'The Cherry' Had A Poison Pit
Her Lips Bled As She Bit
Raging Against A Stop-Sign's Kick
As She Applied One Last, Hot-Poker, Needle Stick
Scarlet Ribbons On Her Arms
Red Lights In Her Mirror
Best Friend's Blood On Her Hands
... and A Crimson, Conscience Juror ...
Written & Copyrighted ©: 1/4/2014
by: MoonBee Canady
T’is not any man’s wish to commit error,
For out of it borne terror and horror.
Every man’s wish is to be a conqueror.
To his seeds, fine-reflectors like the mirror.
To every child, every Dad is a juror.
Sworn to an oath of allegiance as a carer.
T’is every man’s wish to be a conjuror,
Not a staged sorcerer –
But one to lit smile on your face-make you a great scorer.
Proud,arrogant and full of baloney!
Oh, she charmed poets for sure.
Loved to be judge and juror.
God saw this,released His furor.
With grace,ended her poettc tenure!
3/17/2023
I was not the culprit this time, but no one believed or could see.
Since I had done it six months earlier, no one wanted to believe me.
I was not guilty, this time it was not my play.
I was innocent in every kind of way.
The charges were trumped up, and totally untrue.
However, promptly assumed totally guilty by all of them but two.
No way it was me; not my mess this time, not my doing.
They dressed me in a suit and a shirt fresh white from blue-ing.
It was a frame job, I was not the devil child this time.
They gave me tight looks and frowns from all but Juror number nine.
I was locked into a jail cell with Mad Marge who had made it a kind of home.
If I ever get released, you can bet I will write her up into an interesting poem.
Dressed in white clouds,
And the night in satin,
She runs warm fingers through my hair,
And we travel along as if no one is there.
The music pours down from heaven
I am a desperate clown and I dance and I cry
And I fly from the strings in your arms like a puppet,
And I am waiting for everything to happen.
The great mistake we make is we take love for granted,
And we close shut our eyes and strike imbalance,
As the snow falls for long and it stirs us,
So I say goodnight for the night to hear us.
A copper coin in a tray for your delight,
A cello a sparrow a dog and the sea,
And the sadness in my eyes as the stars they shine,
And what I want will be close to my heart and be mine.
I say goodnight to the moon, goodbye England,
Bongiorno Italia, it’s a trip we should take,
And in my hand I hold a ticket,
And make my future with the light steps of a cricket.
I have a voice that’s achingly serene,
A nervous breakdown and a broken arm,
I have everything under the sun, I belong,
And with the next beat I’ll be even more strong.
It’s not what you say but what you do,
And the vistas and panoramas of life
extend way up to the heavens
I am hanging from a tree, they bring me food,
And it’s now time to improve,
For I am close and I am tight to the endless,
And whatever you try you can’t bend me.
If at times I can hide from the crowds,
If I am a juror with panache and buoyancy,
If I can climb up 10,000 stairs and still breath,
I can take 10,000 stairs and be on destruction’s eve.
Personally I take an issue, but I suffer sometimes,
And if the night is young then I fight,
And if you flirt with me I ignite,
For what is a story without an ending,
And then love is only understanding.
Thoughts regurgitated though repugnant,
coil of self loathing tightens its noose,
venal thoughts a fragmented whisper,
to sabotage, undermine, disrupt,
one’s frail ego under siege,
wounded whisper n as barbed wire plume,
internal bleeding one must staunch,
if only gumption triumphed,
vacuous a notion one brazenly floats,
inane virus of the mordant gibe,
its origin welded to an anonymity,
so vast in its remit,
defying bold attempt at confrontation,
acid laden cut deep within,
over trivial and flimsy oversight,
imagined stain, partial blind slip,
transgression not worthy of indictment,
court proceeding deep welt juror,
nodding in consensual conspiracy,
wounded mutter, wounded sibilant sigh,
homespun crime against oneself