I’ve seen you walk on air, not necessarily
Putting on airs, instead balancing modesty
And pride on weighing scales on which you dictate
The standardization units.
When push comes to shove.
I’d like to see you get down to some funky tune.
How’d you carry yourself, I can’t help wondering.
Would you let yourself be carried away?
Or would you instead wrap caution tightly
Around yourself barely affording a twitch of your brow.
I fancy finding out.
May I have this dance?
Jargon mouthed with righteous indignation
That can convince Lucifer to entertain consideration
Of jumping the fence, an act of treason
To his own beliefs cast in stone.
Interestingly, one barely scratches the surface
Of sense, instead clutching at whatever trace
Of reason to at least save face.
One soon realizes it’s not one’s cup of tea in the first place.
Courtrooms are battlegrounds where wits are
Stretched beyond their capacities, placed under the glare
Of powerful spotlights, no wonder
Most “learned friends” fly off the handle appearing immature.
Law’s on a league of its own
A lord unto itself, seldom bends, prefers blowing its own horn.
In the space of a single day
It’s almost impossible to stay
Above the fray owing to the array
Of inconsistencies keen on inspiring dismay.
Sun shows up in the eastern horizon
And not everyone’s enthusiastic on
It’s cutting short blissful sleep, many a frown
Wrinkle up folks’ faces instead, an unpleasant situation.
Conversation’s a glass of lime juice served cold
Daring and unmitigated,brazen and bold.
One flies of the handle as one can’t hold
One’s horses any further, what follows is uncontrolled.
It’s a delicate dance, one where stepping on someones toes
Is a matter of certainty, notwithstanding the mores.
I want to sing you a ballad
As you choosily pick at your salad.
While at it wish you can hazard
A guess as to who’s mastered
The landscape and terrain
Of your voluptuous body with less mental strain
And painstaking care, noting every nook, cranny and vein
So it’s etched in the fabric of my brain.
The rose in my hand is wilting
I think it’s in supplication to the refreshing
Garden in your heart that’s bristling
With freshness and that’s not surprising.
As you enchant me with your spellbinding smile
Hope you can bob your head to my tune all the while.