Short Acquittal Poems

Would Belittle My Acquittal

Me many people often would belittle;
I finally would receive an acquittal;
So you know;
Let me go;
Was case they declared a mental.

Jim Horn...

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Trump and Flatulent Fiddle

Trump had tripped over flatulent fiddle;
Expanded was program and his middle;
Reviewed gift,
And got a lift;
From trial and being @#* received acquittal.

Jim Horn...

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Trump A Phoenatic and Fool

Trump was a fool who liked to fiddle,
Around with fat  found in his middle;
A pardon please,
Often did  tease,
Until he would acquire  an acquittal.

Jim Ho, Ho, Ho Horn...

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Stop!
The madness croons
The crushing nothingness of it

Silence!
The buzzard squelchs
The razor wire of loathing emptiness

Cease!
The apprehension glances
The acquittal of the hostage

Expire!
The rising spirit
The bloodied field deserted...

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Would not mind being caught in middle,
Of serenade played on violin or a fiddle;
People dancing;
Others romancing;
Thanked God for receiving an acquittal.

Jim Horn

You always want to think and dream
about the best things in life and write
a poem about them. Sounds appropriate
to me....

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Absolve us all of anguish
 When appetency goes awry 
The allure of the atrocious 
Can take precedence over the auspicious.
Nought can assuage the anxiety  of  abomination 
Flowing from such appetites
Ancillary to our basest desires.
Saying amen leaves us 
Aghast at our arrogance
Adding to our aggravation
Acquittal comes from abstinence 
And not from avarice....

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OUT COLD

out cold ground floor
afflicted by calm daze
above beating chants dance
ample basic canvas draped

out cold ground floor
abridged dreams cross doubts
across blinds careless drapes
arid brains carcass droughts

out cold ground floor
aspiring bloods crimson drool
amidst blackouts cruel demise
acquittal by chance deluge

out cold ground floor
anaesthetized
behind
closed
door

(a/b/c/d poem)




© Kim van Breda...

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The founding fathers in their graves
Are surely not at rest
For what they had intended
Has been brutally repressed.

The country’s been divided
By a madman at the wheel
And all attempts at justice
Somehow crumble and congeal.

At least a call of witnesses
Would help, if just a little,
To let the nation hear some truths
Before the sure acquittal.

With this administration
All decorum has departed
And we, the people, rage inside
Yet still feel broken-hearted....

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Out from the 'Chop Shop,' breaking laws,
"Speed bumps, Hoods!" Scold Grand Mamas,
Found with the blacksmith made lots of noise,
Served an acquittal now kissing boys,

First comes the stocking of little Nell
Wait cause Grand Mas legs still swell,
Next comes the stocking of little Will
Oh, it's filled to its brim with swill

Oh, oh, no! "I" - "da" - "ho?"
Oh, oh, no! "O" - "hi" - "o?"
Get up it's nonstop, quick, quick, quick
Down to the car and without this chick!...

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