They say the cage is invisible,
But I can’t even hear the bars rattle,
How ignorant can I be?
I squint;
Peering at others clawing chains I can’t see—
I wonder;
Is my sight broken, or just clean?
I ask, why can’t she be?
They stare—
as though it was clear;
“It’s what’s missing between her legs,”
And what could that mean?
I laugh, unsure if they were joking;
She doesn’t—
My tongue lays heavy inside my mouth.
She’d been convicted by unseen jurors,
in a trial she was born into;
Where I thought I was asking,
I was only echoing.
His cries pierce through knots
of testosterone—
I hear his pain,
I reach out but my arm pulls back
when I hear:
“Now we know what’s between his legs,”
And what’s
that
got to do with it?
I can’t see the cage, the chains,
And how visceral it is for them to keep sane,
But how torturous—
A soul that is bound.
From here, I can only
picture—
The pain you feel,
But I believe it is real;
This is quiet place I stand.
Motive:
jealousy twisted into a desire for power,
Systems built from broken trust,
Superiority sourced by those who exude it,
Blood spilled from the hands of those who are black
Empires built from false prophecy
Lies cultivated from the weeds of projected self-hatred
Motive - the white man to appear as the superior race
Alibi:
The fragility of whiteness,
The acidic tears of the white woman,
The weaponisation of power by the white man,
The homemade, home-baked stereotypes - to divide
Propaganda pieced together with the glue of prejudiced policies -
Weaving deceit to narrate harmful ideologies of blackness
The portrayal of victimhood, for the picture of white innocence,
The abuse of power, to abuse black people
Alibi - racial killings masquerading as self-defence
The defence rests
Prosecutors sweat
The judge, blinded by bias
The jurors , all white
The verdict:
Not guilty -
By reason of fear of colour
Acquitted
Now freedom awaits -
For the white man, now he can do it again
246 bullets
10 Cops
1 black man
And a lifetime of pain
1 funeral
1 courtroom
12 jurors
1 judge
1 verdict
Not guilty
1 claim of self defence
This is the world we live in
One in which black people choose freedom
Which is stolen From us
And white people have their skin
Which means they will automatically be acquitted
This is the world we live in
Stop being ignorant
Old hands counted fingers to define,
That the hours in a day chime twice twelve,
That the months in a year toll what the old hands told.
Twelve apostles, tribes and days of Christmas do unfold
Twelve jurors decide, the twelfth is the hanged man card,
12 inches make a foot, 12 notes in an octave for a song do abide.
12 eggs in a dozen, 12 faces on two dies, does craps decide.
On 12 lunar cycles and 12 months in a year, does the seasons reside.
The annual elliptic zodiac journey passes through 12 constellations.
So it's so true, that so much of how we count and conceive,
Our universe, fate, course and the passage through time,
Depends on how our ancestors counted with their fingers.
xxxtestingxxx
Impartial
litigation is what
sustains democracies
Kangaroo courts are what
sustain tyrannies
Does the judge
represent the rule
of law or the decision
of an autocrat?
Tyranny flourishes
when decent people
do nothing
Those defending
the dictator
pirouette with a
nonchalant indifference
as the tappers stamp
defending their case
for justice with a determined
fierce percussion
With their hands in the air
The jurors must make their
decision, observing, confusion,
is there a resolution?
What shows a judge’s gavel impatience
Ultimately, we the jury are the people
Autocracy or democracy?
“Guilty as charged!” came the jurors’ report,
Reflecting that justice was served.
The law of the land says to follow the court,
So the verdict was what was deserved.
The defendant, of course, didn’t seem to agree
But instead of accepting the news,
He disparaged the judge and the system so we
Might accept all his nasty, warped views.
When our country was founded, civility ruled
And the leaders worked hard on the laws.
What I hope is that voters won’t somehow be fooled
By a felon with nothing but flaws.
Strict Justice or mercy, which would prevail
The courtroom grew sweaty, faces turned pale
No one dared leave with the verdict in doubt
Justice or mercy – Would Truth ever out
The jurors returned, their verdict in hand
The foreman, deliberative, made his way to the stand
Opening the envelope, he tapped the pulse of the room
Strict justice – or mercy if Hope was to bloom
The day before Thanksgiving
Everybody takes it slow,
Except the ones preparing meals,
As many of us know.
So it’s the perfect day to serve
If Jury Duty calls.
I doubt if there’s a judge or lawyer
Strolling through the halls.
We would-be jurors sit for hours,
Staring at the clock,
Or read or do a puzzle
Since there’s no one in the dock.
My hope is that we’ll be dismissed,
Our civic duty done
And other folks will fill the seats
When trials will have begun.
Jurors mishandle the facts why can't we?
Does it hurt when you hear others laugh,
or do you think they are laughing at you?
Growing the pain deep inside.
On your mind grows a hurt you can't hide.
What will happen to you if you talk?
This crime to each other goes every long day undescribed.
People who go to school to learn how to think,
then come back to the home to red ink.
Remembered control over they to you is the plan.
If you cannot speak they to you your mind they have gained.
Unable to speak few children can think.
Mom or dad a teacher that knew most don't have.
Detached from emotion this is the place where you hide.
Each to a room none can find.
It wasn’t me the notorious outlaw said.
His mother was Ellen, his father Red.
They used to sell illegal liquor, so he was ill-bred.
A case of mistaken identity, said the Kelly, Ned.
Horse thieving and hurting policemen too.
We know it’s you! We know it’s you!
It was not me, the horse thief Ned Kelly lied.
But he abruptly lost when his case was tried.
He’ll be hanged, by cracky! The Australians said.
We’ll string him up ‘til he is dead!’
But he saved my life! One of the jurors cried.
He saved me from drowning. Can’t we let this slide?
It wasn’t me! The outlaw lied. It wasn’t me! It wasn’t me!
It was him, the police said, and they all did agree.
They tied him up, and let him hang and he soon died.
And the boy he saved from drowning was the one that cried.
a glimpse of heaven
a taste of hell
that's what he perceived
at death's dreaded knell
summoned to court
he gasped hard when he saw
the judge and the jurors
his wife and kids ~
his maw and paw
Red sa@@shes
S + Way from your cheeeks
b.l.u.r.r.i.n.g your
f+Hair skin
shineee In the DARKNEST
FLAshhhH of
s*e*q*u*i*n*e*d Light
ur eyes
I cant seem to find
UUUUUU
Shimmmmmmying in the BRunette
C Peeking
oVer=== SUBSTITUTE windows
T h e s e con jurors """sing"""
UTT er vo-ice
of DIS&&&&TRACTION
B cuz ....... I whirlllll!
In;;;;;;;;;to
O-u-t of con-trol
trOUBLE
Ant Sy JiTt ers
Milk^^^shake m e l t s
in>>>>to your ChASsis
po..........king
my stom ache j # uices
I CANT FIND^^^^^ my legggggs
How can
EYEcandy d+ance
With((((((Red Sashes
June 21, 2022
Brian Strand Premier Contest
Didn't you know that in the new age America
court cases are decided
by rioters and intimidators
congressional race baiters
getting their rocks off on division and skin tone.
The jurors' box has turned into a carton of quaking eggs...
the media (those harlots of hype and hate)
spreading their corporate-sponsored legs
for the sake of ratings.
Tenderizing the meat of facts
force-feeding the nation, the fat and gristle of
irrational emotion.
Didn't you know that this new age America has
"woken" straight into the whirling eye of chaos-
an anti-white and new age blindness.
The flavor of rage
Growing are the grumbles
By a Gathering of Humbles:
A skyrocketing effort to change an unchanging Dinah,
In figures, now closely chasing the population of China:
The grumbles, a fast succeeding siege against the judge
Now set to hit Justice where it hurts…
The earlier mumbles a saintly grudge
Whose holder unrestrainedly blurts.
A wig is helping an untiring lawbreaker,
Scheming to the wrong guy dump in rancorous jail;
One hell of a faking hostage taker
Juggling with sacred laws and trying to not fail!
Now, it’s an uncannily crappy proceeding,
All the jurors alive to the misleading:
The not guilty to soon watch the outside world from Dark Keyhole
The veritable Child of Judicial Remote Control.
Now, the grumbles are preaching
A second long look at the interpreter,
The earlier mumbles alleging a bewitching
Of the chosen typewriter;
The mumbles also cocksure of a garage
Groaning under the weight of new Toyota Cams
The grumbles amplifying to barrage
Judge’s recent receipts of Justice-perverting big yams.
The fire burns and burns, it burns through your passion heart. Your locked up in that fire car. It’s too hot to go that far. Your having a deep dream if this is reality or is this your destination fatality. You was a lost soul who wondered away from the truth. The truth could not set you free because you kept holding on to your painful tooth. Your burning and burning of humiliation and sorrow. You beg and beg as you fight hell’s troubles. Their are witnesses who see your struggle. They all are jurors talking in a circle huddle. They all came up with a verdict and called the firefighters since that would do the trick. It takes a while for the firefighters to come as you try not to burn into a ashy crumb. They do finally come but it was too late. Everyone is stunned as they see you filled with peace with no hate. They all asked you questions on how you escaped from this situation. Jesus answers, you are saved from hell and cremation.
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