Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Sep 2017 Paul Jones
Anderson M
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.
Law is a donkey.
#smh.
The sleepy man at the museum
directed me to the balloons.

Ten out of ten shots went astray
proving my eyes are lame
and so my aim.

The galleries were eerily deserted.
(is people's interest in science flagging?)

I looked down the infinite well
for awhile eternally falling into it
recovering from the realization
they were merely infinite reflections.

The man's smile told he knew from my dazed look
I was lost in the mirror maze.

(Was I stuck in all the wrong exhibits
for my age?)

I got a ticket for the sky in September
finding peace in the dark of the planetarium.
At an off the city science museum, August 20, 2pm
Next page