Blind Justice of Quotas
The gavel falls by decimal,
The judgement by percent.
The individual decreased to small,
A fraction of intent.
The scales she holds no longer weigh
The implication of the crime; They total up
The data-set to clear the queue of time.
Injudicious eyes are bound
To grids of black and white
Where no extenuating ground can alter
Wrong to right.
We trade the law for calculators, Truth for
targeted numbers.
Escaping fair adjudicators for anything that
computes.
She stands in stone, a blind sum capture to
A pie-chart, crown- a goddess turned outdated,
While column weigh her down.
A ledger filled, a ratio net, The target achieved
And clear;
While justice weeps inside the trap of a
Mathematical World.
The System of Musical Chairs
" AI is of no use nor it helps anyone in this
Society ".
It repeats and is repetitive with no human
emotions to proceed to the next " Go".
Red Light? Does this System of Musical
Chairs seems like a game of charades ?
Backlogs, Deadlines, Quotas , Tracking
Numbers mazes of Red Tape.
Unlimited transfers pressing Numbers on
One's keypad just trying to reach a live
person.
Pointing fingers at team members in this System of the blame game on a monthly
basis.
What's the sense of Employees of the month?
When it creates disorganization.
OBSERVED FIGURATIONS-:-
created
tranquil
contrasting
timeless
emblems
so ENIGMATICALLY DIFFUSED
coincidentally
signified
quotas
discussed
details
with ABSENT-MINDEDNESS
eliminated
literary
output
concentrated
creativity
For Patrice Lumumba
25-06-2025
When you gave back just a tooth
You didn’t even feel ashamed
At all though you knew the truth
You were never deeply blamed
For what you did to Patrice
Lumumba whom you tortured
Then chopped and chopped to pieces
Like an onion you nurtured
Your ego and turned our land
Into a profit death camp
Which fulfilled what you had planned
You took and took to revamp
Belgium thus exploited
All our raw material
Thinking you were anointed
By God to act imperial
No one was prosecuted
For what you put us through
Your deeds can’t be disputed
Even your own crew knows it’s true
When rubber quotas wasn’t met
You cut off my limbs with an axe
To make an example of me on set
Were you proud with all those stacks
And stacks of hands you displayed
Like medals on parade after a race
Were you aware of the game you played
Which was gory yet turned our face
Sad when blood gushed like water from
A hydrant still no remorse
While you just stood there numb
To the course you had to endorse
The invasion upon us
attacked by a neighbor
no village is safe
their scourge overruns
The enemy dressed
as civilian turistas
our border wide open
and freely they come
No shots have been fired
or prisoners taken
the keys to our arsenal
willingly loaned
Our schools now infested
with quotas bespoken
surrounded and cornered
—the fault but our own
(McAllen Texas: September, 2022)
I peruse iota verses in quotas
For the study of panag-iota
Who has my thoughts now starting to motor
Literal styles to my mind by rotas
Its classic all the way she does now say
I must differ also truth could just may?
As straw comes from wheat; as grass makes hay
How indepth a depth? How light a day?
Light in travel; is yet here; I must say'
The word of mouths to, chamges each day'
Cheers to jeers no special companions today
Though endurance and duress have honed
Broken up the heights; cast down those stones
No bones in poetry its subtlety groans.
A bullet song,
Hands up,
We sing in memory of the deceased,
We sing in memory of the miners,
Peaceful protesters demanding their rights,
Peaceful protesters seeking justice,
Living conditions parallel to their labour,
They asked for a review of their monthly salary,
They requested a change in their livelihood quotas,
This brought nightfall into the town,
This brought the midnight train into the town,
We stand in memory of the lost and the scarred,
Marikana today remembers you,
North West mourns you,
God in the green blanket hallows this day.
August 16, 2022.
In Memory of the Marikana Massacre.
The beating of the Mill,
we hear it down the hill.
It is the town's heartbeat.
No children on the street
already in the shop
to labor till they drop.
Sold to the upper class;
the mother needs the brass.
The father on the beer;
not working since last year.
The bosses own their soul,
their houses, so they toll;
boy, sister, young as four
stay bailiff from the door.
They; hardly off the teat,
meet quotas, or get beat.
Most dying all too young
from ailment of the lung
or bodies ripped apart.
No healthcare; caring heart
so poorer lose their health
while richer gain more wealth
on broken bodies, pain.
The workers take the strain.
Not distant, in the past
but present, and to last.
You think that things have changed,
you all must be deranged;
The Beating of the Mill
is calling us all still!
The Sweat Shop Poetry Contest placed 5th
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Date wrote: 15th February 2022
...And in that lies the irony
of this whole ‘social justice’ phrase,
it exists to excuse racism,
to put a nice name on mere hate.
You want to hate pale people or
attack any one that succeeds,
just claim that it’s ‘social justice,’
then you can go and make them bleed.
You want to say bigoted things
and not have to take flak for it?
Just claim that it’s ‘social justice,’
and that your group ‘cannot be racist.’
You want to put quotas in place,
and get jobs that you have no earned?
Then just cry out ‘social justice,’
and watched those wrong-colored folk burn.
You want to smash and loot your town,
but now have to do time in jail?
Just say that it’s ‘social justice,’
and they let you go without fail.
We really shouldn’t be surprised,
the left always divides by race,
from slavery down to Jim Crow…
of course they’d cheerlead this disgrace.
But there’s no need to buy into
a concept that’s so disgusting,
justice can never be social,
it’s an individual thing.
Always.
Oh How Then
The powers that be took us into this mess
And we as people decided to act
Yes that’s right we banged our pans and spoons
Screeching ENOUGH IS ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!
You there over there yes you in Europe
With your plans and rules and laws and languages
We are English and do not want your rules
Or to be ruled by you from citadel Europe
What will we gain from this?
Having to use Metric instead of Imperial
Pity the market traders now in jail
For refusing to bow down to Metric
In a clink with druggies and gangsters and murderers
But the Euro MPs should be inside
For maiming our lives with their red tape
From fishing quotas to banana size
They say jump and we ask how high?
So we did jump and jumped out of Europe!
Some wanted to Remain but I voted Leave
Yet what a mess it created oh dear
May’s leadership is tatty just like her
And her job is hard even damned
But there is No Deal with the chaos it brings
Brings to us in England and you in Europe
What will it really bring?
A sense of leaving but then what?
Increased air fares, a need for Visas and new wars???
Time will tell...
Befuddled Bloomberg
Speaking of cash, this dude has a solid profusion!
But using prisoners to make campaign calls is a
just a hideous delusion!
Who knows???
Next campaign call from a convicted criminal on
Bloombers's private jet?
I can assure you, my vote, he will not get!
Remember that Bloomberg does not want us dying
from sugary soda?
But kosher to him, to have men in jails, dial you to
to fill his campaign call quotas??
" Warden" Panagiota
December 28, 2019
Oh How Then
The powers that be took us into this mess
And we as people decided to act
Yes that’s right we banged our pans and spoons
Screeching ENOUGH IS ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!
You there over there yes you in Europe
With your plans and rules and laws and languages
We are English and do not want your rules
Or to be ruled by you from citadel Europe
What will we gain from this?
Having to use Metric instead of Imperial
Pity the market traders now in jail
For refusing to bow down to Metric
In a clink with druggies and gangsters and murderers
But the Euro MPs should be inside
For maiming our lives with their red tape
From fishing quotas to banana size
They say jump and we ask how high?
So we did jump and jumped out of Europe!
Some wanted to Remain but I voted Leave
Yet what a mess it created oh dear
May’s leadership is tatty just like her
And her job is hard even damned
But there is No Deal with the chaos it brings
Brings to us in England and you in Europe
What will it really bring?
A sense of leaving but then what?
Increased air fares, a need for Visas and new wars???
Time will tell...
from Jabo
Nick Armbrister
Pray for the Working Man
The one with calloused hands
Who has often been forgotten
On the roadside of life's demands
The one that's seen faltering
At every juncture, every step
The one that seems to get it
But hasn't got it yet
Pray for the Working Man
As he fights for what little's left
Doing daily battles
With the thoughts inside his head
In what alone he would have been
Or in the past he could have said
So that his quotas are met
Pray for the Working Man
As it protects every living child of Ireland
male and female until death visits them
Europe needs to remove our shield
the one that surrounds us as armour
We are being fed to the vultures
first our seas followed by quotas
then they need to remove our faith
this is in order to have a strong voice
in policing our land into their double standards
overturning the true values of our nation
replacing it under foreign rule and dominance
They have brainwashed so many
making it into an abortion deal
like the last one was dressed as peace
thank God I voted no
I am not a yes man who jumps into the fire
with the rest of these sorry states
that have lost their soul direction
The cops are on the roads today
And this is why, I’d bet,
Their ticket quotas for the month
Have not been filled quite yet.
This is the last day of the month
And so the pressure’s on
To catch some speeders in the hours
Before the day is gone.
We saw them nabbing five or six;
All slowed without a fuss.
I’m glad they nailed those other cars
And had no time for us.
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