Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Shea Oct 2018
There's a jury in my head
They fight when I'm in bed
They split and throw gavel
Travel from cerebral to people
And back again
My case has not been decided
Though they continue
And I won't sleep until they've left
Andrew Oct 2017
I have secret skeletons
That haven't seen the Sun
From things supposedly fun
Now all they do is make me run

Skeletons exit my closet
And enter my jury box
All of whom I've met
Then put behind locks
Now they throw rocks
Or find ways to mock
They are ruthless
Until I'm toothless

I face a skeleton jury
I face the skeletons' fury
They seek vengeance
Or perhaps repentance
I play lawyer in my mind
This job has become full time
And I must laboriously linger
Through skeleton stingers
Until my mind is rattled
By skeleton saddles

They come from my past
To shatter my glass
The skeletons are attacking
My bones are cracking
Under their weight
They are my freight
They judge me
And begrudge me

I made many moronic mistakes
I left laying at the bottom of lakes
Now they are at the surface
Of my fruitless furnace
Skeletons remain
Like a stain
I look across the plain
To see skeletal rain
Precipitated by my dumb decisions
Droplets make numerous incisions
Each one callously cutting me to the bone
Until the skeleton jury is my humble home
Rahama Jul 2018
Insecurities chew me down like I chew my nails when insecurities chew me down.

I cry.
I won't lie.
I won't hide.
I won't justify.

It's my life.
I can be sad when I want to;
Mad when I want to;
Glad when I want to -
Be.
I'm expressing myself,
You'll see only what you want to see,
Believe only what you choose,
View it from your own perspective.

Put yourself in my shoes;
Just for a minute.
Can you fill them?
No!
So don't judge me as if;
You would react better;
To all the circumstances;
If you were me.
I'm tougher than you could ever dream to be;
So look away and don't give any judgemental words to me.
Thanks for reading
Khoi-San May 2018
As the revered taste of the Cuban
expertly rolls from his tongue
And the frivolous sounds of his friends and associates whisk
past his ears
And the bouquet of the wood cling to his pallette
The judge reminds himself ironically
As he confides in his  glittering blanket high above
Even retrospection is a needless visitor
And introspection is of no use
When you've brought the gavel down on your own life
And condemned yourself
to a Beachwood bench in the middle of nowhere
Where nobody gives a ****
Mystic Ink Plus Apr 2018
Based on all evidences and witness
And revised act of 2018
This Court
Acknowledges your big day
and wants to,
wish you happy B’day

“Stay blessed
Stay free”
The Jury said.
Genre: Fiction
Theme: The jury’s last words decide the future. There is a single decision between a totally different life.  What if  judgement be filled with kind words, what if jury find a hundreds way to decide letting one to improve, not just to punish.
Chris Neilson Mar 2018
The old fella drinking his life away
from a foul filthy bottle
he was a much loved doctor
he had a mental breakdown
don't judge while the jury's out

The dead eyed teenager
derailed, destitute and desperate
she was born pure and innocent
habitually abused in her short life
don't judge while the jury's out

The raging man with a missing limb
in a different country from his birth
he's a refugee from a hellish war zone
the only survivor of a murdered family
don't judge while the jury's out

For millions of people a daily trauma
never sure to see another sunrise
a back story hiding behind the cover
what you see is not a definition
who are we to play judge and jury
the homeless, hapless and helpless all inspired this piece.
Mystic Ink Plus Mar 2018
She died drowning
Just to blame the sea

Here, I’m the witness.
Genra: Dark Fiction
Haley Tyler Feb 2018
Stop with the self righteousness
with that **** of the hip, hair flip,
tongue click pettiness
A round of applause for that display of selfishness

Stop with the villainization
I am not on trial and you’re not the judge nor the jury
Call me in contempt of court
But the true crime here is your self-victimization

Stop with the alliterative grade school names
Petty Betty and Salty Sally perpetuate your immaturity
Childish Chelsea double dutching that rope
Spitting her rhymes like it’s all just a game

Stop pretending it’s a joke, like your words hold no meaning
We all know you sit at home sharpening your syllables like knives
But you’re not the only butcher in town, I’ve finally found my cleaver
I’m ready to fight, I’ll leave you reeling
what was your favorite double dutch rhyme in grade school? | h.t
Vale Luna Jun 2017
I have no choice
But to put you on trial
Cuz you claim
You're innocent
Until proven guilty
But with all the evidence
I've collected
I'm positive that it was you
Who committed the crime against me

I'm sick of all your twisted lies
The disgusting humor
That this was all one big accident
Saying that in reality
You didn't mean to break me--
Only to leave me bent

The defense says
You were just messing around
That you didn't mean to take
What you stole
But I
-the prosecution-
Say that's *******
Cuz I know you seek control

So now it's time
For your verdict
Take your seats
They're about to start…

HA!
The jury says you're guilty
So it's indeed true
That you stole my heart.
Spoiler: its guilty lol
Dark n Beautiful Sep 2016
Earth to earth, Oh ashes to ashes and dust to dust,
How strange, how familiar, human connection is untrusted
when we awake, each passing day, knowingly that by sunset
Those words would be read out loud
Over an innocent, black brother’s grave site tonight
Too many tears, too many mishaps
who scattered those bullet caps,

Too, many innocent lives have been taken
By the hand of the nervous police,
Even The birds keep gliding in the air shows solidarity
In respect of the dead:
Some human wish they were like them they said.
A charge is one thing. A conviction is another
Black lives does matter.
Who pulled the trigger, which got the last laugh?
The innocent or the victims

More weeks of demonstration,
the fight for the white house continues with words not arms
Blood in the Inner City Streets, subways
and shopping malls, bias and frustration, sound the alarms

Who pulled the trigger, which got the last laugh?
The guns, or the victims,

My poetics tone this morning.
voice your opinion
Next page