Long Jury Poems
Long Jury Poems. Below are the most popular long Jury by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jury poems by poem length and keyword.
If i allow a mother to steal food, in order to feed her babies. Does that make me
an angel or criminal? How do we as people not take responsibilty to change our
own destiny?
For justice is the right of everyone!
If i don't take the time to teach this mother to stand, to be self reliant, to have faith,
to face her fears. If i don't teach her compassion and self respect. Does that
make me part of the problem or the solution?
For any injustice hurts everyone!
If i don't register to vote because i believe the system is broke. How then can i sit
on this mother's jury, with 11 others to deceide if she committed a crime?
For justice is the right of everyone!
If i allow the truth to be silenced by her economics or her up bringing. Am I giving
her an excuse to keep on?
For any injustice hurts everyone!
If i check hispanic as my race because my other choices demand that i deny my
mother. Does that mean that i disrespect my own people?Does that mean i don't
believer in Dr. King's dream?
For justice is the right of everyone!
If i allow the disrespect of another's faith, from one coming of my own. Does that
mean I have no faith in my own beliefs?
For any injustice hurts everyone!
If i adopt a child from a a foreign country. Does that make me heartless to the
needs of the here?
For justice is the right of everyone!
If am a solider supporting my family and I must go to war. Does that mean I
support the reasons behind the war?
For any injustice hurts everyone!
If am a hard working law abiding citixen . Does that mean that it is none of my
concern how the system punishes criminals of differnt races?
For justice is the right of everyone!
If my child is on life support and my insurance won't cover no more treatment .
Who then has the right to deceide if my child lives or dies?
For any injustice hurts everyone!
If i justify my wrong doings with excuses of what was done to me and my people.
Will you tell me what that makes me?
For justice is the right of everyone!
Justice is everyone's freedom to think, feel, love, have no limits in what one can
do. Justice is to receive the respect of everyone. Not to be judged for sex,race or
faith. To have equal opportunities for you and I!
To quote Dr. King's words, " Injustice anywhere threatens justice everywhere!"
end quote.
For any injustice hurts everyone!
Form:
What Democracy
Democracy, in Britain is nothing but a lie.
From the dictionary the word should be deleted
Whilst democracy’s the slogan that politicians cry
The majority of us feel that we’ve been cheated
With political correctness forced upon us every day
Just in case the casual word may cause offence
If you have a strong opinion be careful what you say
Even though you may be talking perfect sense
When we joined the E.E.U. I’m sure we took the view
It would give a larger market for our trade
Yet now our mighty nation has a legal obligation
To abide by regulations Brussels made
The referendum was denied, the politicians lied
These decisions were decided by the few
It was no doubt understood, M.Ps thought it would be good
With a total disregarding of our view
MP’s pull out all the stops to try to fill our shops
With G.M foods that we don’t want to eat
Whilst cameras check our speed on roads where there’s no need
We’d be better off with coppers on the beat
If when confronted by a crook you land a good right hook
You may think that he deserved it, it’s his fault
When he is on probation you’ll be locked up down the station
To appear before a jury for assault
When travellers leave a mess, you’d be spot on if you guess
That authorities will turn an eye that’s blind
Yet drop a *** end in the street and before it hits your feet
You will get an instant ticket and be fined
If asylums what you seek and English you can’t speak
Benefits are paid for your welfare
But if your British and your old, your property is sold
To pay for any time you are in care
If you chastise your child, because he has run wild
That law will on your collar give a tug
For no matter what you say, do-gooders rule the day
Even though the child may grow into a thug
In the interest of fair play referendums are the way
The majority decide just where we go
We shouldn’t change our laws or take part in futile wars
To massage a political ego
When we are due a big election, parties vie for our affection
Promising the things they have in store
It fair gives us the hump, they should take a running jump
They must realise we’ve heard it all before.
It is hard to understand who governs our fair land
Or who it is that makes up all our rules
Our politicians bore us, or totally ignore us
Democracy in Britain! It’s for fools!!.
.
Form:
The interrogation threatens to shudder like an earthquake
A long index of accusations spread out among the atmosphere like a blazing forest fire
Satisfaction, the officer and venomous umbrage, the criminal
Self-appreciation, the quiescent defense attorney with no right to be there
Misery, the boisterous dauntless prosecutor
The months of the annual calendar, the jury
Pain, the almighty judge
It’s a court case already divested from the defendant
Why should it not
Bother, why bother
Its past the millionth time in 216 divided by the jury
Satisfaction has seen countless rewards of capturing umbrage
Satisfaction has felt the boundless benevolence of glory
And foaming at the mouth, glowering with muffled respected fury
Sits umbrage, staring out blurred vision
Victimized in his own apperception
What’s the cost, the damage total; what has befell, befell reality
The anathema of fate or rather the favored affliction of fortune’s fool
Within a realm of possibility it may perceive to be both
A pebble laced with a thread thrown into grass only miles away
To be reeled right back in like a helpless fish on a line
The audacity, the audacity; oh just hush
Silence is golden and this silence is benevolent
Joy was once prevalent in the company of such disgrace umbrage reigned
Together they were serenity, a mixed graceful period of harmony
Such a song sung by dual owls in the presence of the lightened darkness of night
(sigh) …I can’t do this anymore
Make a world, create a story peacefully
Creating a plot circulating, tip-toeing around the issues placing bait in front of my eyes for me to take
What is wrong with me, my life
One word, a sharp enough blade to stab in the ankle to slaughter Achilles
In this case, me
The poet’s banishment, scourge creating a series of nine lashes
Still runs deep, refuses cessation
Proceeds to feed on every ounce of merriment to permeate through the cracks
Melancholy has produced to invade back in
What’s the cause this time for it to attack
A few simple words, reflection, swift defiance
the bruises upon the right appendage whispering, begging for more scars
FOR WHAT? ! ? ! ? ! ? !
Forget it….it’s nothing
Satisfaction has pardoned me, set me free
Umbrage, my twin has taken over me
To another bridge, we sit and sulk over a failed attempt at flight
Cause we willingly defy the right to say goodnight
Preface:
Earlier today May 28th, 2021,
the 12-member jury unanimously
found Cristhian Bahena Rivera guilty
of first-degree murder in brutal stabbing death
sentenced to life in prison
without the possibility of parole
of Mollie Tibbetts remembered as then friendly
20-year-old who was studying
to become a child psychologist.
IOWA CITY, Iowa
(killingly, jarringly inexplicable,
horribly, gruesomely, and forlornly),
the body found July 18, 2018,
an exhumed decayed corpse
belonging to young
vibrant coed twenty year old
college student Mollie Tibbetts.
Impossible mission to deduce
senseless killing of innocent babe
wild speculation perchance
spurned, snubbed,or scorned
love seriously gone wrong,
she who disappeared
from her small hometown
in central Iowa sad swan song
now plays, where every
last drop of sorrow rung,
now weeping family, friends,
relatives, et cetera subjected wrack
with lifelong emotional pain,
which searing inescapable
grief twill unrelentingly track
ferociously, fiercely, and figuratively,
doth disallow recourse
to duck away
from heart wrenching quack
king unbearably, terribly, and scathingly
will fully bill leave ably
beak homing a folly,
mockery, and travesty,
sans time heals
all wounds (truly "FAKE"),
nonetheless psyche riving tragic
(irrevocable loss) doth pack.
Grievous punch greater then any
all star olympic pugilist
straight to the ab
domain of opponent, where
rumor mongers mill and blab
how this, that, or
another potential suspect,...
whence tissues dab
corners of crying eyes,
an endless stream
of tears merge with gab
bullying utter disbelief.
Family/friends question
the supposed almighty
at devastating loss
to do nothing but bawl (at Baal)
into the fox sized rabbit hole
trying with futility
to block (even crawl
ling into every
rabbit hole) no bastion
against implacable
maddening crowded
house alive with murderous frenzy,
and a dialect (non
tickling) gentle Iowan drawl.
Third anniversary regarding
asper the impossibly steep toll
the purposelessness killing,
aforementioned deceased
affected sodden wet soul
cannot process any (defying) logic,
a foregone lovely gal (same age
as my youngest daughter),
whose missed presence,
(albeit said slain lass
Mollie Tibbetts – permanent absence),
now created an expansive
infinite black sink hole.
"All animals are equal. But some animals are more equal than others."
—George Orwell
A dozen of chickens and a number of horses, a cat and a raven, a few cows and other hoofed ones—all of which are perfectly silent. Poor wolfie. He can't even find a voice to growl. "Your Honor, if I may request for a short recess," I whisper, humiliatingly like a dying dragon. But my timid voice is drowned by a sly-looking pig's pouring of whisky into Dis Honor's gilded cup.
"Have you no respect or have you no eyes?" Squealing, he deafeningly squeals. He reminds me of that scaled wyvern whose head now sits in my living room. It roared deafeningly loud but breathed no fire. "His Honor is having his brief period of refreshment at the moment!"
With eyes too dry to cry and throat too hoarse to howl, the defendant meekly weeps. But only I hear it; the jury listens to only the silence, loud as a baby serpent's inaudible hiss, of two semi-digested pigs in his gut.
Who on earth build houses with flimsy hays or sticks nowadays anyway? And was it my client's fault that the third genius Doctor Porkchop got killed when some stray earthquake crushed his oh-so-unshakable fort built brick by bloody brick? Just whose brilliant proposal is it again to have Napoleon presiding the trial of the so-called Big Bad Wolf? If only he was a dragon—a pig-dragon at least— I would fain put the beauty that is my sword into good use right now.
Countless charges of premeditated murder, culpable animalicide, et cetera. Of course, do sentence us all to another life. I turn to look at the audience right behind me: a mare, a goat, a donkey. A soft motherly neigh followed by an intelligent baa, then by an astute silence.
"Please, Your Honor," Ridiculous. This stupid courtesy reminds me of tiptoeing past a mother Couatl guarding her eggs. "Shall we resume—"
Slams of gavel.
"Objection! Objection! Objection!" Dis Honor oinks vehemently, his mouth reeking of poorly brewed whisky—and I thought Tiamat's droppings were bad. The way he repeats the slamming of his gavel with every disgustingly pronounced objection gives me a headache as if it was my head he keeps hammering on. For the first time, being hit by the Basilisk's tail doesn't sound so bad at all. "Here you call me 'Your Honor Napoleon' in full," Oh, believe me, the honor is fully mine.
'You are the music', the guitar strings of my favourite song.
Your lyrics 'touch my life,' as you are the twin to my soul.
What 'am I' without you, when all melodies sound so wrong.
I'll never question 'what is a woman's role' in rock and roll.
Your lyrics touch my life, as you are the twin to my soul.
My 'midnight flyer' your spirit glows like a 'seafull' of stars.
I'll never question what is a woman's role in rock and roll.
When life 'makes you wanna cry' we can create memoirs.
My midnight flyer your spirit glows like a seafull of stars.
When you 'send me no more letters,' I'll ignore the post.
When life makes you wanna cry we can create memoirs,
I'll follow your footsteps, roaming from 'coast to coast.'
When you send me no more letters, I'll ignore the post,
wondering 'will our love end,' before the ultimate vow.
I'll follow your footsteps, roaming from coast to coast,
until you serenade about 'feelin' so much better now.'
Wondering will our love end, before the ultimate vow,
'it's only a dream,' but you get 'nothin' for nothing,'
until you serenade about feelin' so much better now.
'Your love is allright' when your muse is soft and loving.
It's only a dream, but you get nothin' for nothing.
It hurts 'way back to the bone' when you leave me alone.
Your love is allright when your muse is soft and loving.
'Black clouds' fade to white when I hear your sweet tone.
It hurts way back to the bone when you leave me alone.
I feel like a 'loser' playing solo to a 'jury' of 'back street love.'
Black clouds fade to white when I hear your sweet tone.
I ain't 'keepin' time,' but it's just 'another day' of grey skies above.
I feel like a 'loser' playing solo to a 'jury' of 'back street love.'
What 'am I' without you, when all melodies sound so wrong.
I ain't 'keepin' time.' but it's just 'another day' of grey skies above.
'You are the music', the guitar strings of my favourite song.
21 songs from Glenn Hughes with Trapeze:
What is a woman's role
You are the music
Touch my life
Am i
Seafull
Midnight flyer
Makes you wanna cry
Coast to coast
Send me no more letters
Feelin so much better now
Will our love end
Nothin' for nothing
It's only a dream
Your love is allright
Way back to the bone
Black cloud
Jury
Loser
Back street love
Keepin' time
Another day
Who put Breonna Taylor in "Harms Way"?Was it a snitch that the police trusted? We must,and it is a "Duty" of "Justice" to leave no stone unturned!Who put Breonna Taylor in "Harms Way"? The Police on that day caused real "Harm",and that is a real true fact,and that is true and perfectly exact!That was a terrible act! We really want to know who put Breonna Taylor in "Harms Way"of "The Police"? Who would do that? We who care must leave no stone unturned!"Justice is not always exact,but "Justice does ,and can see the real facts! Who put Breonna Taylor in "Harms Way"of "The Police"?Who would put their mother,father,sister,brother,grand daddy,grand mother,girl friend,boy friend in "Harms Way"? We who care must not leave any stone unturned.The Lord God Almighty sits on the Throne,and never leaves any stone unturned for any as we all will face him on the day of judgement for the good and the evil that we have done in this life. God leaves no stone unturned! We really want to know who put Breonna Taylor in "Harms Way" of "The Police"on that terrible day for "Democracy"and The U.S.A.and for Liberty and Justice for us all? "The Police"came and they did cause ""Unjustifiable Harm"!"Justice must act to "Justify" itself or "Justice makes itself unjust"!Once all the stones have been turned then "Justice can be served to all of those who unjustly acted,and to those who put Breonna Taylor in "Harms Way"!Do they still give "The Electric Chair" in "The Great State of Kentucky"for "Unjustifiable Homocide"?Justice is always tendered with mercy in order for Justice to be Just"Motion To Indite by "The Grand Jury of "The Police and "The Boyfriend".Police=Self Defense with unjustifiable Homocide "Boyfriend=The first shot from a gun fired out of "fear". When the boyfriend fired the first shot he enabled "reckless endangerment and unjustifiable homocide .Rectless indangerment is "Being put in "Harms Way"!!!! Who really fired the first shot? Jistice can be served by finding out who fired the first shot to cause "Harms Way" to come into existance!!!Unjustifiable Homocide requires "Justice" to "ACT" ,no matter who fired the first shot so that "Justice Itself" can "Crush,Plow Over,and "Pulverize "Evil Flesh,Evil Spirits,Evil Minds,Evil Bodies,and Evil Souls.Will "The Grand Jury" "Act" to see all of "The Facts"? The "Motion is in Place"!!!!
Lizzie Borden Took an Axe
By Elton Camp
Family love often will subside
When there’s property to divide
Old Andy Borden’s second wife
Came to be a cause of much strife
He allowed his two daughters no say
When he began to give money away
To his second wife’s Abby’s own kin
With them, his generosity did begin
“For you to do like that is so lame.
On the estate Abby has no claim.”
Anger filled daughters one and two
Only the youngest knew what to do
When on a trip her sister was away,
Her crafty plan Lizzie put into play.
Ugly old Abby was at home alone
Her husband was on business gone
Bridget, the Borden’s Irish maid,
Feeling sick, in her room had laid
“Now’s my chance,” Lizzie thought
Unawares, her stepmother she caught
While she was making up the bed,
Lizzie swung an axe to her head.
Alongside the bed she did sprawl
Making not a cry or a move at all
When home to nap her father came
Then she proceeded to do the same,
Quickly removed her bloody dress
Cleaned from herself any red mess
Police,“Where can Mrs. Borden be?
We very much need her to see.”
Then came a shout, all to astound.
Come up here, look what we found.
Lizzie tried to conceal a happy smile
At the two bloody murders ever so vile
To loss of inheritance she put a stop
When into death her parents did drop
The evidence proved extremely strong
That Lizzie herself had done the wrong
She cried, “Oh jury, you must see me free.
Surely you have to believe it wasn’t me.”
To think any woman might be so evil
In that distant day was too unbelievable
Less than two hours did the jury deliberate
Before making their decision as to her fate
“We find pretty Lizzie did nothing wrong.
So open the jailhouse and send her home.
It would take some libelous and stupid fool
To accuse a young teacher of Sunday school.”
It was obvious that Lizzie had much to gain
If to continue alive Mrs. Abby did not remain
Both motive and opportunity, clearly she had
But a gentle woman could do nothing that bad
But the township’s people were not deceived
The jury’s hasty verdict they never believed
In derision, it only took them a very short time
To compose and then chant a mocking rhyme
“Lizzie Borden took an axe
And gave her mother forty whacks
When she saw what she had done,
She gave her father forty-one.”
...He flipped through the paper he’d bee given,
And saw the name ‘Ms. Karen Mallory,’
his mind reeled again, incredulous,
that was the girl he had saved by the sea!
Soon enough he was dragged into a court
and Ms. Mallory did loudly attest
that without consent he had kissed her,
and pawed like a pervert at her breasts!
His lawyer counter,”Consent can’t be given
when a person is hurt and unconscious,”
that nothing he did be called sexual,
and that a good soul could do nothing less.
Mallory’s activist lawyer shot back,
“Maybe she would have preferred a death
to knowing that she was violated,
forced to breath in a molestor’s breath.”
She prattled about body sanctity,
how even frantic times did no excuse men
from shamelessly groping defenseless girls
who were not able to give their consent.
Dylan rolled his eyes so many times
that he though they’d fall out of his head,
he’d known Feminazis could be extreme
but this pair was functionally brain-dead!
He expected most folks would see the truth
and recognize that he’d done a good deed,
nut one day a friend sent him a link
and told Dylan it was something to read.
He gaped as he read a professor’s rant,
filled with reasoning utterly absurd,
claiming that death did not justify ‘groping,’
never had he seen such nonsense words.
Then the many ‘minds’ on the internet
all chimed in with their digital voice,
half said that he was a would-be rapist
that unconscious girls could not avoid!
Then the media latched onto it,
made it their outrage-scandal of the week,
with people declaring ‘unconscious consent’
as a dark too of ‘The Patriarchy.’
And of course his boss feared the attention
so Dylan was quickly drummed out of his job,
for trying to step up and do the right thing
of a living he’d wrongly been robbed.
Inside the court they pointed to wild nights
to try to smear him with misogyny
regardless of the fact that his night life
had nothing to do with events on the beach!
In the end, at least, the jury chose right
and saw his actions for just what they were,
still the media called it travesty,
an ‘act of oppression’ against her.
As he walked out a reporter pressed close,
said,”Can you tell me what you learned inside?”
“Yes, next time you see a feminazi drown,
you’d be better off just letting her die.”
It’s skin deep evident,
being black is an inherent crime
It doesn’t matter whether we
peacefully
stand our ground,
or be siren subservient —
Hands in the air,
knees bent
We get shot seven times,
by a six-shooter
In the back of our mind,
fear is a pride looter
Epidermal evidence suggests,
probable cause is
five fingers of uniform blue grave danger
A click gavel falls trigger quick,
siren verdict be: 1st degree fatal anger
It’s just another casket open-and-shut case,
the latest obituary picture
bearing eyewitness of Breonna Taylor’s face
Like chalk on a blackboard,
we get erased ...
so rap sheet easily
Four-by-for centuries,
our coffin pleas
have been iron fetter ignored
The only asphalt sound
silently heard
are the yellow tape trace words:
“I can’t breathe,”
with our George Floyd face
in the paved dirt
Epidermal evidence historically reveal:
We always got shot seven times,
by a six-shooter
Skin color hatred smoking barrel explode
on a trigger reload
Being black was our genetic crime
Wanting the good life
on the whiter side
of the picket fence
Made former slave cotton-picking sense
Our emancipated thoughts
were escaped equality sought
But votes auction bought,
forced us to tragically be
paddy wagon pellet caught
And when suffrage hope died,
it was our fault —
Runaway tears shed for naught!
Morgue blame sent:
Usual suspect motives be
dreams non-violent
Desiring to be integrated legally
into American society
was our heinous offense
No need for more epidermal evidence
It’s just another cell open-and-shut case,
the latest unarmed picture
bearing eyewitness of Jacob Blake’s face
We repeatedly
get shot seven times,
by a six-shooter
Seems the lawlessness of the land says:
The badge can be
judge, jury
and executioner
Ain’t it blatant epidermal evident,
being black is an egregious, breathable offense
Of which there is no self-defense
We get shot seven times,
by a six-shooter
Perpetrator exit wombs inflicted on
menace to society ghetto we
Aborted justice is our
perforated epidermal eulogy
Being black is a natural-born crime,
evidentiary,
an umbilical sin
It’ll get you pandemic shot seven times,
by a sick, sick six-shooter