"attorney" poems
when a bunch of old Senate men
and some intimidated women
voted to heave
an accused ******
and proven liar with an alcohol problem
given to irascible outbursts, fits of self-pity
and insulting comments on women
into a lifelong seat on the highest court in the nation
against voluminous evidence of his lacking qualifications
the statue of the Goddess of Justice
whom a former attorney general
had all covered up in blue cloth
dropped her sword and scales
tore off her blindfold
and covered her naked ******* in shame
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
You're the counselor.
When certain players can't accept defeat.
You're a minister.
Teaching them about humility.
You're the coach.
A title that takes on many roles.
You're a defense attorney.
When parents gets enraged.
Thinking their child's better.
Then they really is.
You're the coach.
It takes a dedicated soul to give of themselves.
When many parents loves to criticize.
And refuse to assist.
It takes a calm manner person to accept this job.
Because many parents are releasing to you their child.
To motivate them to be better.
Not just at the game.
But, as a person with kindness.
Long after the game.
When many will forever think winning is everything.
Until , they lose to see the sportsmanship.
Is how you handle things.
You're the coach.
In the mist of many fools wearing that title.
Because some treats their players like they entitled.
You're not afraid to bench the star of the team.
Even, if many think you're being mean.
You're the coach.
Who's respect for your dignity?
If anything states about you.
That you would like.
You wants them to state you were fair.
Even amongst the dislikes.
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 8:24 AM UTC
The old fable covers a doctrine ever new and sublime; that there is One Man, — present to all particular men only partially, or through one faculty; and that you must take the whole society to find the whole man. Man is not a farmer, or a professor, or an engineer, but he is all. Man is priest, and scholar, and statesman, and producer, and soldier. In the divided or social state, these functions are parcelled out to individuals, each of whom aims to do his stint of the joint work, whilst each other performs his. The fable implies, that the individual, to possess himself, must sometimes return from his own labor to embrace all the other laborers. But unfortunately, this original unit, this fountain of power, has been so distributed to multitudes, has been so minutely subdivided and peddled out, that it is spilled into drops, and cannot be gathered. The state of society is one in which the members have suffered amputation from the trunk, and strut about so many walking monsters, — a good finger, a neck, a stomach, an elbow, but never a man.
Man is thus metamorphosed into a thing, into many things. The planter, who is Man sent out into the field to gather food, is seldom cheered by any idea of the true dignity of his ministry. He sees his bushel and his cart, and nothing beyond, and sinks into the farmer, instead of Man on the farm. The tradesman scarcely ever gives an ideal worth to his work, but is ridden by the routine of his craft, and the soul is subject to dollars. The priest becomes a form; the attorney, a statute-book; the mechanic, a machine; the sailor, a rope of a ship.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
Give me my scallop shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon,
My scrip of joy, immortal diet,
My bottle of salvation,
My gown of glory, hope’s true gage,
And thus I’ll take my pilgrimage.
Blood must be my body’s balmer,
No other balm will there be given,
Whilst my soul, like a white palmer,
Travels to the land of heaven;
Over the silver mountains,
Where spring the nectar fountains;
And there I’ll kiss
The bowl of bliss,
And drink my eternal fill
On every milken hill.
My soul will be a-dry before,
But after it will ne’er thirst more;
And by the happy blissful way
More peaceful pilgrims I shall see,
That have shook off their gowns of clay,
And go apparelled fresh like me.
I’ll bring them first
To slake their thirst,
And then to taste those nectar suckets,
At the clear wells
Where sweetness dwells,
Drawn up by saints in crystal buckets.
And when our bottles and all we
Are fill’d with immortality,
Then the holy paths we’ll travel,
Strew’d with rubies thick as gravel,
Ceilings of diamonds, sapphire floors,
High walls of coral, and pearl bowers.
From thence to heaven’s bribeless hall
Where no corrupted voices brawl,
No conscience molten into gold,
Nor forg’d accusers bought and sold,
No cause deferr’d, nor vain-spent journey,
For there Christ is the king’s attorney,
Who pleads for all without degrees,
And he hath angels, but no fees.
When the grand twelve million jury
Of our sins and sinful fury,
‘Gainst our souls black verdicts give,
Christ pleads his death, and then we live.
Be thou my speaker, taintless pleader,
Unblotted lawyer, true proceeder,
Thou movest salvation even for alms,
Not with a bribed lawyer’s palms.
And this is my eternal plea
To him that made heaven, earth, and sea,
Seeing my flesh must die so soon,
And want a head to dine next noon,
Just at the stroke when my veins start and spread,
Set on my soul an everlasting head.
Then am I ready, like a palmer fit,
To tread those blest paths which before I writ.
3.7k
What happened to me was unjust and unfair.
I was framed for ****** and I got the chair.
But I was able to return from the grave.
I had my revenge and it was depraved.
I've never been a forgiving person, I always hold a grudge.
First I killed the District Attorney and then I killed the judge.
Then I killed the people who found me guilty.
I slaughtered all twelve members of the jury.
Next, I went after the guilty party.
He became sorry that he framed me.
And finally, I killed the two Police Officers who brought me in.
Those seventeen people won't condemn an innocent man again.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 9:29 AM UTC
If you’re in an accident,
and it's compensation, you wish to gain-
Look no further than the law firm
Of “Grimace, Limpe, and Paine.”
If you’ve been arrested-
With a bag of stolen stuff-
Call the criminal defense firm
Of “Shackles, Chains, and Cuffs.”
But, if you want to hire a lawyer-
That’s known from “coast to coast”
Pick up the phone, and call the firm,
of “Bluster, Bluffe, and Boaste.”
Choosing an attorney
is not an easy task-
For every question answered
there's another to be asked.
So, I will make it simple,
amidst your sighs and moans-
Just pick up your telephone-
and call the firm of "Smith and Jones."
copyright: r. riddle November 27, 2013
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 12:43 PM UTC
People say that growth is a lifelong journey.
Talk about the scheduled trip like it's to the most holy place.
I can leave I had a talk with my attorney.
I have packed my bags and I'm ready for the new taste.
Where is this fantastic place called the future?
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 3:57 AM UTC
*Weathervanes with harmonically
tuned brains, took up the call to Step Lively.
Each one ecking, drop by drop,
To feed you silliness, to lighten your soul.
Wakey, wakey
Eat well
It's your Daddy, I mean attorney
You're really been being very bad.*
If you insist, I will.
Learn obedience
or patience or something
in between,
a kernal of obedience?
I'll never promise that,
in order to give it to freely.
I was afraid to let you in.
They were menacing,
stamping us into tiny little molds.
Insistent that we are,
what they think we are.
*Did they convince you
that I'd gone off and left you?*
No, changing that would require
quantum amounts of convincing.
Was not mistaken that it was you,
just attacked by encroaching apiculture
*That is how it felt,
How it feels, but subtler now.*
First course correction will be
the sliver of a melody,
Spreading like a depth charge.
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 9:03 AM UTC
we was in the bando,
trappin, we were trapped..
cook named Orlando,
moved across the track..
used to be my neighbor, now hes got the paper,
owns a couple barbershops, got myself a taper,
owns a deli too, couple cleaners down the main street,
not long ago we were sitting in the same seat..
back when,
we was in the bando,
trappin, we were trapped..
kitchen hot too handle,
Found ourselves a rat..
polices, driving by increases...
Orlando had a thesis,
Moved in with his nieces..
He says...
"Theyll never catch me in here,
I live without fear,
only time i cry is with this tattoo tear"
A couple days later, cops broke the door in,
couple windows too, just to let more in,
they found a couple rifles, most of them foreign...
Cuffed Orlando, his niece, and his babymomma Lauryn...
multiple charges of distribution.
couple cases of ******
money laundering, and weapons, his attorney would murmur...
They say my writing ***** this is no place for this crap..
i dont do poetry, i just write reality rap..
and truthfully, nowadays reality lacks.
So i dedicated this to his daughter Natalie Max.
25 to life..
no chance of parole, bottle....
of hennessy,
just *** he was my role model..
They say how can you defend him, when i yell free Orlando..
*** i still remember when..
we was in the bando...
-afj
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 1:11 AM UTC
Oh no!
Here she comes again.
Mom please!
I don't want to fight.
Please stop yelling.
I didn't take your food.
I swear.
I'm not listening to this.
I walk away.
Mom!
What are you doing?
Why did you put my head through the wall.
I punch, I kick.
I fight back.
Why are you choking me?
I bite her arm.
My aunt calls the police.
Four officers break up the fight.
Why am i being cuffed.
Why isnt she going too?
I didn't do anything wrong.
The detective questions me.
I spend three days in county jail.
The district attorney finally drops the charges.
Now I have to go back to her.
Please Lord let me live.
I promise to do good.
I'll change I promise.
Please don't let me die.
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 4:43 AM UTC
"Funny poems aren't taken seriously",
the figure splashes verbal acid over the
crumpled piece of paper I handed them.
Refusing to laugh
Curling their lip.
The paper quickly,
without a thought,
thrusted back into my hands.
They leave behind my thought
which fills the space between
myself, fidgeting alone
and them, striding away.
*Does it have to be serious
to be taken seriously?*
A mental court gathers itself around me
Myself, a defense attorney
Pointing a stained finger
at the figure on the stand.
I present the shoe-eating Peruvian
and his limerick friends.
Generations of drinking songs
often crass, but lasting.
There is laughter from the jury
There is hope for the poems.
Then my final evidence
the crumpled paper
I read it aloud
silence.
Is split by the dull chuckle of the figure
elbows in suit jacket pressed against the stand.
"Sure, there's examples from the past,
but you?
the troubled kid?
the depressed one?
the pariah?"
I glance at more files, appearing,
my name on each.
analysis,
evaluation,
diagnosis,
test.
Laughter, the type that jeers,
grows into a crescendo.
I huddle, hands over ears,
creasing my suit
but the muted version is worse.
I stagger to my feet.
The court has morphed cruelly
into an arena of sorts.
Brutal, simple, life-ending
decisions are made here.
My jacket is gone
My cheek openly bleeds
My sleeves have ripped
revealing the scars below.
I hurl out, from deep within me
"It's because I'm ****** up that
I need to write it!
Don't you understand?
Making people laugh
keeps and edge off the old habits
keeps the thoughts where they belong!"
My voice is hoarse.
The arena tightens.
Even as I say it, I'm overwhelmed by the thoughts
That I do not belong.
That a funny poem punctuated by my fingers
despite their past harm
delivered from my mouth
despite its harsh denouncements
and shared by my whole self
despite my self-banishment
is not enough.
I sink to the ground, stripped of my senses.
My poems have turned course
once helping ease pain,
now proliferating it.
My fingernails pierce the palm of my hand
through the crumpled paper
and two drops of blood strike the tiles.
I meant for this to be
a funny poem
But I guess it's about why
some people need to write them.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
In my office me and Gonzo waited speaking on deep issues
with no true meaning as usual.
Bastardo's heart had been broken for Drew had left him a beaten and
love bitten luchador slash attorney.
Senior Gonzo speaking endlessly to the hat rack had reminded me why
I never dropped acid anymore.
Poor gonzo had just been served with divorce papers to which
his only response was ****** amigo i never knew i was married.
As his attorney i belived a trip to mexico was outta the question for i had just got back do to some well a misunderstanding its legal
jargin you couldnt possibly understand.
His deadline was near and without my solid advise this man wouldnt be able to pull it off so being we had been in the bar for more than
eight hours we decided to make a exit through the mens room window.
Front doors are over rated.
In my legal office slash camper hey eveyone starts somewhere
okay.
I was reminded of my loved hellcat Drew
she had left many items here a satanic bible her boil cream.
how I did mis rubbing her webbed toes.
How was i to work Gonzo was a mess hidding under the table
so the ginger bread people couldnt find him
and return him to there bitter talentless leader
Kate Perry i swear if you stab me one more time senior gonzo
with that fork in my maracas im going to get medevile on your ***
Oh how i missed my tag team partner drew.
i should never have introduced her el man donkey who
resist such a uhh personallity.
But now here I sit with a madman under my table tripping his
***** off insisting I contact Simon Cowell to inform him
man tities are so yesterday.
If only I had gotten the Lindsy Lohan case I would finally have gotten my brake or maybe just a std.
Oh well theres always hope Mel Gibson will need me.
The road warrior was a true classico and he seemed so well
balanced compared to my reallity challenged cilent.
Remember kids if ever you have a chance to trip with senior Gonzo
its probaly best you hide all sharp objects.
adios Bastardo
Jul 15, 2010
Jul 15, 2010 at 8:10 AM UTC
He hates daylight with sense of a mole,
He has curtains all over his chambers, to preserve
His heart nocturnal, where he derives joy
As he does glory from his night shift
As a mortician at the city morgue,
Where I was deadly drunk one night,
And fallaciously declared dead by a nurse
And got dumped into this domain of the AG
Fellow drunkards who became sober to cry
For help out of the morgue, the AG clubbed
Them lethally to final death, forget of drunkardness
Another sick person un-convulsed back to life
He thrashed his skull with a menacing club,
Only two strong hits sent the misfortunate man
Back a really rigor mortis, finally dead,
I chose not to breathes loudly till dawn
When the dayshift mortician came on duty
I pleaded for his favour and sympathy,
He culled me out of death, I went home
Running swearing to myself never to drink again!
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 7:44 AM UTC
This is a story of a peculiar fellow
Known to get rowdy but often mellow
He graduated, top of his class!
Harvard law, was the school he passed
Didn’t work hard, kind of a slacker
But, he had the look, whiter than a *******
Quickly started his own practice, as the story goes
With plenty of clients, that nobody knows
He began, quit good-hearted
Champion of the poor! As he started
But, that all changed so quick
The poor can’t pay; it finally clicked
So he went for clients, whose pockets were much louder
And often times, noses filled with white powder
He now worked less, and golfed a lot more
Representing the banks that originally off he swore
But, this is just as much of a story, of dear old poor Louie
Who never had fortune, misunderstood and gloomy
When one day, he caught a big break
The bank had made a terrible mistake
Their negligence, was due to pay millions
Especially to Louie, along with other civilians
So Louie hired the best attorney in town
A peculiar fellow, he made no sound
So the trial went on, and the judge presided
At the end of the day, the jury still was divided
Because the lawyer, got an offer he couldn’t resist
The banks gave him more money, so the trial he dismissed
Dear old poor Louie, again was left with nothing
No turkey for thanksgiving, not even the stuffing
He turned to the lawyer and let out a great yell
“You haven’t helped me the slightest” he tells
But, the world’s not always fair people often get cheated
Defeated and mistreated, depleted than deleted
The lawyers might help, but not much
Blinded by money, they often loose touch
So the lawyer turned and responded to dear old poor Louie
“What are you going to do? Sue me?”
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 3:24 PM UTC
I sleep on a bed of nails
Every day when i get up i stick the sharp objects right into my back even though they were left by everyone else
All different shapes and sizes
Finger prints on the handles as well
Very individual characteristics of the weapons themselves
Alternate methods i can still feel the pain of being impaled
Most people tear the blades out throw them to the ground
Not me
They're the only thing still connected to the memories of what its like to feel
I refuse to let these wounds heal
Being in contact with trustworthy souls becomes surreal
One day I'm sure I'll come to terms with what's actually real
Until then I'm content with bleeding day in and day out
Just to get that sliver of compassion to seek out and nurture my spirit while i lay completely still
someday ill be able to sheath all this metal and continue on with my journey
Right now my hope is my attorney and his case is very weak
Someday I'll remember what its like to be strong
Then I'll strive harder then ever before
The key to unlock this door is buried deep inside my heart
Which is heavily guarded by my mind
I'm running out of time
There's still a part of me that doesn't want to die
I'll keep bringing him supplies so maybe he can fly
Little by little
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 8:24 PM UTC
What oozes out
(between the lines)
the scent of shaving,
your lean leg,
those dancing eyes,
waffles.
What can't escape
(the boldface type)
the door that slams,
your heavy feet,
dark eyes demanding
waffles.
What remains
(the words that blur)
a broken dish
your cracking wit,
my steady hand, now
waffles.
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
If you’re in an accident,
and it's compensation, you wish to gain-
Look no further than the law firm
Of “Grimace, Limpe, and Paine.”
If you’ve been arrested-
With a bag of stolen stuff-
Call the criminal defense firm
Of “Shackles, Chains, and Cuffs.”
But, you want to hire a lawyer-
That’s known from “coast to coast”
Pick up the phone, and call the firm,
of “Bluster, Bluffe, and Boaste.”
Choosing an attorney
is not an easy task-
For every question answered
there's another to be asked.
So, I will make it simple,
amidst your sighs and moans-
Just pick up your telephone-
and call the firm of "Smith and Jones."
copyright: r. riddle November 27, 2013
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 6:13 AM UTC
Isolated and crippled from the fear of being alone
No one to turn to, trapped by my feelings of of doing it all on my own.
Where can I find solace when my only ally is me?
How can I find comfort when I’m struggling to break free?
Surround by nothing but darkness, there’s nothingness all around
Drowning in my own echos with no one to absorb the sound.
Free me from myself for I am and completely lost in time
I’m trapped in who I used to be, I can’t adjust to this new paradigm.
The journey I’m on is mine alone, so I have to keep on this journey
No one to guide me, I’m doing this solo, I have to be my own attorney.
Slowly growing and making some traction, but I have to keep on going
Redefining myself and who I can be but I love the way I’m growing.
Mar 4, 2023
Mar 4, 2023 at 12:54 PM UTC
Why do mechanics need manuals when they’ve fixed it before?
Answer my question or I’ll walk out the door!
Didn’t they attend trade schools or get O.J.T.?
Why need repair manuals? That what gets me.
I just want a mechanic who won’t refer to a book.
Just fix my car already, don’t give it a second look!
Why do pilots run checklists and reference their charts?
Just push the dang button and hope the plane starts!
Didn’t they go to flight school and pass all the tests?
Pilots fly most days, so who needs all that mess?
I want a pilot who knows without referencing a chart.
Just get on with the flying and prove that you’re smart!
What about the doctors who are practicing still?
Why can’t they get it right? And that includes the bill!
They’re always researching new studies in journals
When time’s better spent attending patients’ internals.
I just want a Marcus Welby, Ben Casey or Kildare
Instead of keeping up to date, I just want them to care.
Why do lawyers review case studies and legal decisions?
Such antics in my book leave them open to derision.
All that studying in law school should have been enough.
After passing the bar they should already know their stuff.
I just want an attorney who’s a know-it-all ace,
Not a book worm mouthpiece to plead my case.
Finally, the poets, being wordsmiths their art
You won’t see them referencing a checklist or chart
But look, in their hands, just what can that be?
A dictionary? Thesaurus? Are those what I see?
A real poet never needs help reading Shakespeare or Keats
Using Webster and Roget would make all of us cheats!
If a poet is real, the words should just flow
I think that all poets should automatically know
The right words to use, and literary crutches forgo
How dare they try better vocabulary to hone
They should come up with good things to say on their own.
I’m looking for poets who’ll just know what to say
Like Lewis Carroll’s poems in his heyday:
“Twas brillig, and the slithy toves, Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogroves, And the mome raths outgrabe.”
Don’t bother looking up his words, for that would be a dumb thing.
Using a dictionary or thesaurus, you might actually learn something!
Oct 26, 2019
Oct 26, 2019 at 10:20 PM UTC
Somewhere in the Eden,
where man has lost his right to even go,
somewhere in this Garden
man killed all that once did grow.
To prove we are pathetic
we invade lands that have no walls
Claim the land, and all its living
and make them subject to our laws.
Now, the water dark with death,
and the shore line rich with crude,
and its the men who now can't fish
who are the one's so quick to sue.
But, who speaks for the otters?
or the eagles?
or the land?
What attorney represents them
in the unnatural court of man?
Yet, to even just repay them,
for destroying their families, lives and homes?
The best way we could start?
Is just get out. Leave them alone.
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 11:43 AM UTC
It is near Minocqua Wisconsin,
along Lake Placid,
on the Lac Du Flambeau Reservation.
Majestic Pine Trees,
Maple Leaves,
and the haunting echo of the loon.
The district attorney of Illinois
my Great Grandpa, George Hall
this was his cabin.
My grandmother, Georgia and her sisters
on the walls, her sister Rosa
looks a bit like me, she died at 16.
I have a relative,
can’t remember who, but he died in
the chair I still like to fall asleep in.
They say he had a peaceful slumber
My father’s sailboat parked within the trees
what adventure this boat entails
the wind and water, lets me feel free
Can’t wait until I can sail on the sea.
The old canoe lays by the lake
I always imagine, the Native people
here before I, their land,
which I now call my own.
The Lake of Torches Casino
now what they call their own.
I admire the
beauty of their tradition, rich in spirit
finding peace with mother earth--
musical flutes and tribal drums,
I am connected to my creator.
A family jewel,
I hope it always remains
rich in history,
the enchanting sound of the murmuring pines
a part of me, my favorite place to be.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
i have spent all this weekend
building voodoo dolls
out of belly-button lint,
newspaper clippings, pipe cleaners,
and tufts of my own hair.
They all have names.
The Fearless Lemming.
Odenkirk.
Mr. Tweezles.
Vexorg, the Merciless.
Bob.
*Forgive me father, for i have sinned
and i liked it...*
Vexorg, true to his name,
slew the Lemming in single combat.
It was...disturbing, at best,
and quite messy.
Mr. Tweezles betrayed his sacred
post as medicine man,
poisoning Vexorg with krokodil.
I thought Odenkirk would
exhibit strength of character,
but he fled in the night
like a ***** most likely
in fear of Bob.
Mr. Tweezles should have paid attention
to that turn of events.
Bob fancied himself an attorney,
and Mr. Tweezles thought
himself clever and indestructible.
i am Dark Helmet,
playing puppet-master
with my dolls,
red-handed
intercepted.
Today's horoscope:
Fear death by stupidity.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 7:21 PM UTC
On the first day of x-mas
My ex wife gave to me
a card from her new attorney
On the second day of x-mas
My ex wife gave to me
Two weeks to leave
and a card from her new attorney
On the third day of x-mas
my ex wife gave to me
Three poloraids
two weeks to leave
and a card from her new attorney
On the fourth day of x-mas
my ex wife gave to me
Four hotel bills
Three polaroids
two weeks to leave
and a card from her new attorney
On the fifth day of x-mas
my ex wife gave to me
five ....oh hell
I was gone...by this time
who am I fooling
and a card from her new attorney
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 12:20 AM UTC
A place newly freed from the grips of its mother
Struggles with the rules that keep the mezzanine from
Crashing down.
1) The official and ever-wanted right to speak one's mind
In a way only they can do. Religion, politics,
Every matter ever opinionated.
2) If a man entered your home and threatened
Every loved one that lived there, would you want to be helpless?
Defenseless? Or would you **** or maim to protect
Your family? A gun, a knife, and the right to do so?
3) Many people would be honored to house a soldier.
Simple as that, but what if they didnt?
Money is tight, there is no room? And they are sick of giving up
Their own beds and food for a soldier fighting for
Something they do not agree with?
Preventative measures are needed.
4) Nothing to hide, but constantly searched.
Is privacy really that unimportant?
No; it is important.
5) A crime, a trial; it should be obvious.
The same crime twice? Impossible.
Self incrimination? Non existent.
6) The right to know what you've been accused of,
To have a quick trial with an attorney and witnesses at your defense.
Imagine having no clue, and suddenly having a gun to your head?
7) A crime done by you or another,
And a jury to help the decision, but not step in the
Judge's place. Simple discussions of which laws applied and not
No longer took place.
Sed lex, dura lex.
8) The banishment of cruel and unusual punishment,
Outrageous fees payed for bail, pain inflicted in strange ways.
The morality of punishment made into law.
9) A common arrangement that an individuals rights,
Not written in the constitution, are secure and valid.
Yet, for some odd reason, it had to be added to prevent
Violation of these rights.
10) Finally, the abilities of each individual state
To decide and enforce for its own people.
The individuality each separate place craves and
Wants as a child wants his own decisions to be made.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC