the air reeks of stale coffee and ink-stamped lies,
judges sit like smug kings,
smirking over lives they'll never live,
dismissing truth with a gavel's cough.
innocent men shuffle like cattle,
faces drawn, hands calloused from the grind—
plead guilty or rot waiting.
'justice, ' they call it,
while the lawyers get fat off their despair.
the court stenographer types it all up,
the lies, the twisted logic,
and the perjury sworn like gospel
under a fluorescent crucifix.
if you or I did what they do,
we'd be cuffed and carted off,
but they wear robes like armor,
cloaked in immunity,
proud in their manipulation,
gods of small, dirty kingdoms.
good men shrink in fear,
their courage ground down
by the grinding stone of this machine—
truth doesn't pay,
honor doesn't sell,
and doing the right thing
is the fastest way to lose.
Hillsborough,
where the guilty are freed
and the innocent are crushed,
where justice is just another game
rigged from the start,
Callused, without a true heart.
Emmitt Till buried next to my father
also unearthed next to my father
bur oaks cemetery Chicago Illinois
I never dreamed my death would be sought
For my American poetry severe corruption
ABUSE of power set my death
In the swamps to extort my American poetry
by Jamaican imposter's and a corrupt officers
niece my attacker my stalker severe repeat
violent offender seated with an arson murderer
Klansman craving my death finally murder me
and toss remains In with the alligators
Hillsborough river I must say I'm at peace
with this death because I will never ever stop
writing and allow a fatal attraction gain royalties
from my American poetry therefore I want
the world to know in thee event of my death
please check all the alligators in the swamp behind
my home for my remains and please allow open casket
as with Emmitt Till so the world can see how
I was murdered in America for my American poetry
96 fans awoke that day
travelled to Sheffield to see their heroes play
96 had tickets for Leppings Lane
96 never returned home again
96 people packed in, gasping for breath
praying for life enduring death
96 names etched on a memorial plaque,
next to an eternal flame
96 lives lost watching the beautiful game
96 families reduced to tears
still fighting for justice after all these years
96 souls not left in peace yet
96 reasons to never forget
A day in the life of the 96
I heard the news today, Oh lord
About 96 humming birds
Breathing in the miracle heard
And though the news was rather sad
I had to laugh
A crowd of people stood and stared
And seemed to mouth the words
Justice for our dead
I saw a film today, Oh boy
The family's army had finally just won the war
And the guilty parties had to turn away
Having read the report knowing they were caught
And though the holes will never go
Now they know how may holes it will take to plug a 23 year hole
Today the truth your story told
Truth at last, Free at last
Lest we never forget your righteous path
In memory of the 96 and there families, The Hillsborough injustice.
Based on " A life in the day " By the Beatles
The stadium waits, the crowd assemble
The band prepares the "Hillsborough" welcome
The air thick with anticipation
The fans intent on celebration
A strip of blue, a dash of white
Unmistakedly a "Wednesdayite"
The cherished owl displayed with pride
Symbolic of their much-loved side
Their empathy with ornithology
of "Wednesday's" infamous football chronology
Rousing to that haunting cry
"I know I'm "Wednesday" 'till I die"
A sentiment they won't refute
For them there is no substitute!
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.