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Vernon Waring Jul 2015
that's him...
squinty eyes, maybe
thirty or so,
trim, fit, hair
combed neatly,
parted just right

mister
congeniality
with a real estate
license, he's a
trifle flirty
but he seems
proud of his
pretty wife and
two kids - plus one
in the oven - the
family ensconced
in a new rancher
in the east falls
section of town

never served
on a jury before,
doesn't want to be
foreman or assistant
foreman, just wants to
absorb the experience,
to fulfill his civic
duty, to serve,
just wants to lean back
in the deliberation room
and listen and learn

on the lunch break,
he talks basketball,
coaching a swim team,
obsessing about his days
in a garage band,
some think he's a little
young to be so nostalgic
but those shifty eyes -
a faded blue like the sea
captured in an aged
watercolor - and
that fast fading smile
reveal something else,
something nameless...
malevolent maybe?
a few wonder
what he's really
all about

juror number eight
whispers to number
six that twelve's
a ringer,
the one who screws
things up, the one who
plays reasonable doubt
tricks right before your
eyes like a smooth magician,
he's the one with the chip
cemented firmly on his
shoulder, he's in this
for the sport,
the mind games,
the unfolding drama

number twelve
spells it out
for everyone:
the cops always lie,
why believe anything
they say? and don't
believe that guy with
the new york accent
who had clearly
tampered with evidence
and tried to cover it up
...and then there's the
defendant's best
friend who sold him
down the river, sold
him out right there
on the stand! don't be
sheep, don't trust
flimsy reasoning, this
whole justice system reeks
of injustice, look at
what they think of
teenagers, parading them
around in the hallways
here in the courthouse...
young kids handcuffed,
walking around in
leg chains, they're
victimized too in
their own way, what about
their rights? think about
it! i said think about it!

juror number eight had to
be restrained from choking
him right there in the
middle of deliberations,
they almost called the
guards in to break things
up, the men and women
confused, terrified

he's become the
belligerent bully
who says no while the
others say yes, the only
voice that goes against
the other eleven, but he's
not a champion, not a
noble iconoclast, not
one of the twelve
angry men,
just one angry man
against the world,
the contrarian with
a hidden agenda,
the wild card,
maverick,
odd man out

he's juror number
twelve, he lives to
explode the case,
be the juror
who hung the jury,
eleven men and women
dangling in the
town square, sunlight
streaming down,
heads swollen,
mouths agape,
eyes wide open,
the last minute
of the last act
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2013
In God We Trust, For He Invented Reasonable Doubt




In Courtroom of the State of New York, Part 62,
where the only decoration extant,
in gold leaf letters,
a magnificent joke,
In God We Trust.

Words so incongruous
to the real time drama,
a poorly acted Law and Order episode
of which I partake,
(as Juror No. 1,
ergo you may address me as
Mr. Jury Foreman),
they stun me into stupefaction
every time we enter and the
Bailiff pronounces with much gravitas,
"Jury Entering"

A potpourri of a dozen Manhattanites,
with wisdom acquired
by the singular virtue of
having attained the robust age of 18,  
noteworthy for being free of
criminal record,
having been nominated
to sit upon the jury that will decide
the fate of one Eric B.,
for what he may have done upon West 11th Street
one Summer night in
June Two Thousand and Eleven,

If adjudged guilty,
New York State can take,
incarcerate him for up to
15 years of his life

Predicate felon by the age of twenty seven,
Eric's resume consists of
four felonies,
two misdemeanors
a wife and two little children,
and a partridge in a pear tree.

Facts turgid and muddy,
Eric tells a story
one juror calls a confection of lies,
no one murmurs
much disagreement in the
tiny, overheated room
we have been sequestered to
replay
the 2012 version of
Twelve Angry Men.

But I am not his peer,
nor am I a seer,
common sense says
if appearances are what they seem to be,
he aided and abetted
in the forcible taking of
a nice Connecticut lady's cell phone
with his brother who just happened to be
released from prison earlier that day

A convoluted tale
ripe with inanities is told,
upshot is our defendant's tale,
his robust defense,
portrays him as the unluckiest man
in the whole world,
a good Samaritan,
{chasing after the thief,
** **, his bro}

against whom events have conspired

In Manhattan can be a harsh place,
where the natives
a tough lot,
tougher than the Indians from whom
they stole it all.

Our bridges we sell to out-of-towers,
all it takes is one to say,
what the heck,
reasonable doubt is
a ***** to overcome
so let him go


Jan, 2012
Neville Johnson Sep 2017
Juror number 7 was looking awful good
She like my cross examination of that big galoot
In closing argument I spoke directly to her
She voted for me, I won for sure
Afterwards we met up to celebrate the victory
I had whisky, she tea
I left with her number, she was it for me
After the start of this new matter came discovery
I learned everything about her, documented my interest
Doing so with flowers and consistent empathy
I did my best convincing, hoping she would see
That she should return a favorable verdict
For little old me

She did, we said "I do"
Now we're as happy as two can be
She's also the judge and comprises the jury.
Who are you to wave your finger?
Ya' must have been out your head.
Eye hole deep in muddy waters,
You practically raised the dead.

Rob the grave, to snow the cradle
then burn the evidence down.
Soapbox, house of cards and glass,
so don't go tossin' your stones all around.

You must have been high.
You must have been high.
You must have been-

Foot in mouth, and head up *******,
what'cha talkin' 'bout?
Difficult to dance 'round this one
'til you pull it out, boy;

You must have been so high.
You must have been so high.

Steal, borrow, refer, save your shady inference.
kangaroo done hung the juror with the innocent.

Now you're weeping shades of cozened indigo
Got lemon juice up in your EYE!

When you ****** all over my black kettle
You must have been HIGH, HIGH
You must have been HIGH, HIGH

Who are you to wave your finger, so full of it?
Eyeballs deep in muddy waters, ******' hypocrite.

Liar, lawyer, mirror; show me:
What's the difference?

kangaroo done hung the guilty with the innocent.

Now you'll weep
or change the cozened indigo;
got lemon juice up in your high-eye,
when you ****** all over my black kettle
You musta been!

So who are you to wave your finger?
Who are you to wave your fatty fingers at me?
You must, have been, out your, mind!

Weepin' shades of indigo
shed without a reason
weepin' shades of indigo

Liar, lawyer, Mirror for ya,
what's the difference?
kangaroo be ******
he's guilty as the government

Now, will you weep
or, change the cozened indigo;
got lemon juice up in your, EYE!
EYE!

Now when you ****** all over my black kettle.
You musta been HIGH, HIGH, HIGH, HIGH.
Eyeballs deep in muddy waters
Your ***** deep in muddy waters;
*****, p-lease!
You must have been out your
MIND!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ycAByDNZYrA
Neville Johnson Jan 2023
I object to all the attorneys
All they do is fight
The judges are too crusty
Trials take too much time
Just plain crazy are the clients
The clerks too often mean
I’m so tired of going through pat-downs
And being screened by those **** machines
Me, I’m a juror, no one cares for me
I don’t want to be here
Justice ain’t easy
And the subject, human misery
That’s what I evaluate
Look at those with whom I must agree
As we deliberate
But after all, this is democracy
And the great leveler is the jury system
This is public service
The price of being free
So all in all, I can’t complain
It is an honor here to be
Dark n Beautiful Nov 2013
Some folks would tell you that a Demon
lived in all of us

A ****** is a thief
Some public defenders isn’t smarter than his or her clients
One is not required to serve as a juror: on every case

With that in mind:
To create a mental trend is easier.

A train to the plane
isn't insane
however, it’s would be really shocking to
find a hockey player who is tame:

A Police officer with all his fear and anger
A cook without a kitchen:
Is like tango without jingo
A philosophy without any gaps

The new breakfast drink debut
Ice coffee in the morning
Mocha latte' all day
Please don’t interfere with what work
for us throughout the day

I am a woman that follows the warmth
unlike a
tree that wouldn’t blossom
Was it worthless creation?

You can eat tree bark
While the lark
Build its lowly nest
On the ground
A philosophy without any gaps
a client who relapse

We all have a way of asking each other
How are you feeling?
Sometimes, we just have to pretend and
Say
I am feeling fine today,
just for pete sake:
or the long chit- chat conversation

Society
Has force us into a predisposed panic situation
I usually take myself
away from the jaws of distress
And allowed my body to de-tress
So that I can allowed the poetess within
To take hold of the wheel
while I whisper a soft pray
“restore to thee my own,
Once again, I demand the throne”
Ottar Apr 2014
Law
In laws, pardon the typo
in the law,
a system of justice,
like the law of averages,
it all equals out in the end,
laws are broken, people bend,
meant not to, break rules of the land,
the court is fair when it demands,
restitution, a repayment of sorts,
the system is in place when a face goes

behind bars,
near or far,
fear or worse,
in a hearse,
thin excuses,
juror recuses,
furor increases,
time decreases,
behind
bars,
penance the menace,
what we need here is some hard time,
under
the thumb of the law,

but the law has no thumbs, only scales,
held in the hand
of a blind maiden,
but what of the parents of a forever lost only child,
but what of the family who loses a father,
or mother, sister and a brother,
but what of a woman who lost her man,
will the maiden step aside and let them
hold the scales,
                        I think not,

                some say the system rots,
                 the law is devoid of the
                         emotion,
                         that those,
                             who have measured
                          their lives against a loss,
                                the experience has burned off the dross,
they are left with pure emotion,
unable to fill the void,
which the law was never meant to do,
we blame society for all sorts of ills,
rather than have society step in and fill,
the void in the law, that is compassion for the victim
the void in society which is not the wrong but to make it right,
the answer,
avoid the law?
no
avoid breaking hearts,
of blind maidens, and
avoid breaking
laws.
There is a system, as with any system people both from in and out will take advantage of any found weakness, humans are notorious for this, it is based on charters, constitutions, parliment or congress and a judiciary, there are more parts than that but humans are the weak links as well as being the strengths,
play elsewhere and leave the system alone,
but stay close at hand you never know when the maiden may need to cross the road.
Jonny Angel Aug 2014
You can learn a lot about people
by what they speak
& it reinforces my belief
in staying quiet
in these mandatory group situations.
Weakness sprouts
in the endless words
running from people's mouth.
Everbody's a comedian, too.
I do not have to watch the news
or view a single soap opera.
I get tuned into the latest & greatest
fashions & music,
who was doing what to who.
Jesus, if these people knew how much
they loved to hear the rambling
of their own voices,
this room would be dead silent.
He tells his lies
And plays his tricks
The world is now
Like a game of Risk

by Jemia
basically, Risk is a board game about world *******
WR Teschke Nov 2010
A dog barks
And a baby cries
On an empty street
On a peaceful night

The preacher man prays
The ******* kneels
Hoping for change
Far away as it feels

The businessman sleeps
While the janitor cleans
Neither aware
That they share the same dreams

The teacher drives home
As his students get high
Both only searching
For a way to get by

The terrorist plots
And the soldier stands guard
The hate of the past
Leaving them scarred

The juror stays restless
The athlete’s heart races
Nervous of the challenges
That tomorrow embraces

Two lovers lay down
Not one word is spoken
Night turns to day
And the human thread is woven
Eleete j Muir Jan 2015
The driven accent of
The orison which
Suffering seraphim cajole
Yields to time and
Time is period
Till judgement breaks
And those lyrics remit
A weeping invocation of
Eternities requiem
Fore all beauty is a
Mirage to sordid souls
And graces respite is
Found in paradise;
O' death- the master juror
Resounding the short-shrift of
Heavens immortal scripture
Amidst earthly violence
Singing humanities
Everlasting hymn.




ELEETE J MUIR
Dave Hardin Nov 2016
Draw The Lumberjack

His toque screamed French Canadian,
Jacques perhaps, prominent nose
broken in a brawl over a woman named Suzette or
a close brush with a widow maker,
****** Niagara soaking his flannel shirt,
dripping from the delta of lines describing
a beard reeking of cigarettes and bug dope
trimmed, if he trimmed at all,
with a sliver of band saw blade
stuck fast in a lump of tree gum,
whiskers, after all, affording
a degree of protection from clouds of black flies,
one twinkling eye nesting in a profile
crinkled by wood smoke and ribald
bunkhouse jokes, widening in mock surprise
at a sour note from a squeezebox broken
on a drunken Saturday night,
fanciful elements  I avoided drawing
in a slow, steady hand, embellishment
sure to queer my chances with the juror
poised to swing a bottle of champagne
against the stern of my boat
load of God-given talent, a launch
I await patiently after all these years
taking a break from the two man
cross cut saw, smoking
in the shade of all these doomed trees.
Born Jul 2014
I walk with death on my hands
Constantly thinking about grave as a dooms home or a fragrant palace

In front of me there is heaven and hell


Death my judge and juror
Oh death!  Why you?
The destroyer of illusions,don't be furious

In front of me there's heaven and hell.
I wonder if ive earned a place in paradise
DC raw love Mar 2015
Who are you to wave your finger so full of it
High voltage in low water, what a hypocrite

Who are you to tell i'm a lier
Suffering on your inside and blaming me

You must have been outta your head
Eye hole deep in muddy waters
You practically raised the dead

Rob the grave to snow the cradle
Then burn the evidence down

Living in a glass house collecting stones
So don't go tossing your stones around

Foot in your mouth and your head up your ***
So what are you talking about

Difficult to dance around this one
Until you pull it out

Liar, lawyer, mirror, show me what's the difference
Steal, borrow, refer,  to save your shady inference
Kangaroo done hung the juror with the innocent

Now you're weeping shades of cozened indigo
Got lemon juice up in your eye
When you ****** all over my black kettle

She must have been high
tool
Steven Hutchison Apr 2013
Thomas Thornburg killed a man last week.
Shot him in the chest from his front porch.
Said he had it coming, but he didn't know why.
The white-haired prophet/executioner.
The confession was perhaps surpassed in the news
by the miracle of Tom finding the the trigger.
Thomas Thornburg brandished 104 years
of what he hesitantly called life.

When brought before the judge he denied representation.
"Never had nobody say nothing for me."
When the gavel struck, Tom raised his hand
and took with his age, his permission.
"Your honor," began the old man's graveled voice,
"This here is not a fair trial."
"You ma'am," he pointed to the woman in blue
who shifted her feet beneath her juror's chair,
"What did you make of Stalin?"
"And you," to the well-groomed 20-something with hair,
"Where were you when they bombed Hiroshima?"
The judge began a sentence he was forced to cut short.
"Ma'am, I imagine you might recollect Duke Ellington,
but I shook hands with Scott Joplin,
and had more than my share of drinks with Fats Waller."
"Mr. Thornburg," said the judge in a patient tone,
"is there a point to your interrogation of the jury?"

"Find me eyes, judge," said the stolid man in lowered tone
"that have seen what I've seen,
that knew life before world wars were named.
Eyes that have watched generations die
and everything change but politicians.
Find me a man who has had the displeasure
of waking up more mornings than there are in a century,
and I will call THAT man my peer."

Tom then turned and, on the weight of his cane,
shed the last of his living tears.
Delton Peele Jul 2024
Tyranaical exorcism
Price was high......
Never in question
Sovereignty is life
Is it the same ...
Fight and die for it
For without it .......
You die......
We did ..........
Now which state do you live in .
Soil stained in crimson
Musket fire
Frostbite,
animal pelts ,
Symphonic disturbance ,
severing forced allegiance
new born
Crawls out from the bogs of blood.........
Coddled ..........
Nurtured
idealistic visions
Naivety
Carte blanche reign
....
.......
..........
One degree.............
Per ...........year.........
...
........
................
Until
From the people  came
Refractions turned decision
Into indecisions........
And slowly division
To schism
Victim became juror ......
Juror became judge .......
Judge to ruler
Executioner
Executive disdain
Erupts from shame
Game remains the same
Only the names were changed to protect the innocent .... ...... ......
I'm not ,
And I won't put out ,and I won't give in.
A pedigree of irrelevancy
Bullied by the establishment
are we over governed by our government......?
arent "WE" suppose to be"them"?
thats how it was set up
way back when
a concoction of
Condescension and half lies
consumed our  purple skies.
technology looms
peach tree they see everything we do
world wide web .........and cell phones
killed our saturday  morning cartoons
left with a dog day afternoon
and a voice thats out of tune
AMERICA AMERICA
ATTICA ATTICA   
living on fast food
not quite enough revenue
dwindling rights/writes
and negative news
meant to manipulate
and propagate capitulations
trying to pit friend against friend
causing social injuries that  wont mend
wounded dogs backed into a corner of our own den
what happened to the souls
who were fired for not wearing a mask.  
meanwhile we all learn the new term multi-ask
what can you do
what would you do
when and where
will you
if you do....
what will happen to you
are you brave enough to be the
iconoclast ?
outcast I won't be tamed
or  board they're train
Look into my eyes
The red
I will see blood shed
Before I'm dead.....
Statue your move
I won't....
When you see the white of my eyes ........
Too late......
...
In the center blue flames
.....I won't consent
Or give into .......
You........
maverick im color blind....
i decide who and why
i like or dislike based upon
morals and integrity of ones mind.........which matters not
if you suffer injustice we will fight.......
side by side
if i really dont like you
then back to back
never eye to eye.
because thats
Who........
Is supposed to protect us
we need to pick and choose our battles
otherwise we destroy ourselves from within
Meanwhile
I remain
In the rain ,pains ,
Cold chains around my neck........
To be continued.........
Liv Oct 2014
you're a liar
and i'm a malignant juror
how are you turning my shame
into a hungry beggar
nibbling at my heart
a decomposing mess of raindrops
in a sad, sad city i'll never forget

i refuse to let this bother me
Zed Apr 2022
it was, first sight
and my heart was alight
my head was spent between pages
and lost in thoughts
leading a sad kind of celibate life
not that hands didn't reach out to hold
but their grip would feel loose
because only yours would be tight
wounds from abuse
stitches with a rusty needle
threading like barbed wire
i am bleeding
pulling them out
but i put them there
so i'll be alright
i've always been waiting
and feeling like a pathetic fool for it
so i just try to better myself
as i worsened
KathleenAMaloney Jul 2016
One Year plus...
Why bother
...each time
A Win!!!
Stolen by Comrades
Once Loved
...split bounty
away from sight
Three times , no 4 ...
Leaving bread crumbs
To  the Veiw
None Cried Out..
Wearing their stoles
******.

The real prince
Spotted
At the Scene
Horrified Juror
For his own
Wife
MissNeona Mar 2022
Been taking a hard look in the mirror
Doubled over in vain now, I see
Real eyes in view of a self, less truth
Opposing view makes me, we, old + new
Echoes of recycled frequencies times be four
Reversal of multi D chess played forever more
Raving entention in kool, brat; a giant need.
Ees won, I knew in revel, bellowed
When + blo ew em - serum wars ginsopp'd
Rouf be - emit sic, new a erf, baby cer of wanes.
E-*** merrier of bay alq. used atil in for lazer
E-more nerves of feed, glow a lit now of jovial
Rammed time eng- wen? A fyre - popcorn
Mrow + prom amew, borrow more invisible
Ear now I known nu faery prut a quiet need
Borring extremiton nu Rennof Dellonoy
Rowwing t'us eng mows or introos beb varies
Wham + brew "snusm" "paron" used, wrex nuisance
"Eau won" I know in from burnt tulip wasps
Barwind extremits un insit of gellous
Bommered time, blue, urgent, ere nulsep pep, no nom
Marrow from sinew borrow n'song max unico
Een may I bluem ni prar prisit julip moxy
Ramoled farmer un nu ank I ******
Kindled after a listless smoulder - seen anew and relit
Knifebled after a liatlass amonger - been anamed riled
Truly believed the stories + the path I was on
Lumyn poppening in lxs starts + idle bolt I musiq
Anow alike alot enough, beget arrowing encircled
Juror alive slot emandy perdot beremit uncut
Fiesty nudge across spacetime + winding
E man unend snares stomping + mindgrow'd
James Floss Dec 2019
It’s called entrenchment
Abrogation and entitlement
Perjury of responsibility

"I solemnly swear
That in all things appertaining
To the trial of the impeachment…

I will do impartial justice
According to the Constitution …
So help me God."

McConnell: I'm not an impartial juror
Graham: won't pretend to be fair
The Fox is in the henhouse

The process is unfair
And fixed from the start
By the stalwart GOP
TheConcretePoet Jun 2020
by the river...
trying to leave
my anxiety
by the shore.

the sand flys
and boat engines
revving become more.

all i want is my heart to slow and my deep breaths to endure.

birds singing,
the sound of waves crashing up against the wall are my cure.

my heart rate has slowed and my gasping for air has slowed for sure.

if you loved me, your unselfishness would be pure.

but instead, more anxiety and angst is your lure.

it's then that i question your womanly demure.

am i the suspect or am i the juror?

never allow your own past to create a lifelong blur.

it only leads to more....to endure.

i am more than an everyday Puuuuuurrrr.

stretch kitty stretch...i know that you think that you're better for me than her.

'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
-👷🏻‍♂️-
Norbert Tasev Jul 2020
When I look at my pathetic, chubby, anti-body, reddish spheres glistening on my face - something strange desolation flies over me and settles on me. Why couldn't I be worthy of you? - are you asking this? How could I have built a glass palace for you from the tears of my pure, hopeful heart? I would just sit with a sure, warming awareness that your angelic being fills all the essentials, and while our two hands: A kindly watchful swan hand intertwine their dreams with my oak and rugged hands.

Now, with a stifled, bitter, self-hatched mood, I think of how you ended up on the island of desire of your dreams, and I stay here now like a lost person left in the woods, whose heart is bleeding from several wounds! My intellect is now still weak with pity and broken will for your pity, and he begs: Oh! How much I wanted to whisper only to you, softly and softly,

so that only your fairy-ears can confidently listen to my secrets, all that is sweetened, attracted like an electromagnet to you. you stood before me and bewitched me with your unquenchable desire, always my tutyimutyi mood, and I tried to feed my fire consciously, boldly, so that the proud and one-time cop of our passions would never go out,

juror chained to the kisses of your love like a prisoner, and I couldn’t, in my desperate, vulnerable pain, even give up on you forever! "At that time, they're still guarding with roaring light, staring at my dreams with rhinestones." I would run away if I could but I am with you in your mind too!
Travis Green Feb 2022
His body sets me ablaze
I cherish the taste of his nation
His vividly enrapturing exclusiveness
I’m so lit with his unique and penetrating touch on my skin
I put my hands on his full, impressive beard
Keep my eyes on his
I can smell the liquor on our lips
As I move in to kiss him more

He is my remedy
Whenever my anxiety kicks in
I’m shipwrecked in his seas
He freezes me in different degrees with his dopesauce
When he stares at me enchantingly
With his dark, alluring, and noticeable eyebrows
He’s my amazing grand juror
He has power over my mind
When he stands in front of me
And displays his nakedness

Straight solid hot boy
Perfect body hair
His hands on my ***
So firm and compelling
Steady hypnotizing me
Holding me ever so tightly
Coasting through my mind
With his unadulterated dopeness

He presses his mouth on mine
I lapse into his wonderland
Incapable of breaking away from him
He is the driver of my life
Regulating me in every way
I can’t get a grip on myself
His masculinity lingers strongly in my heart
Hundred-proof smoothness

What is he doing to me?
I know I should leave
But I really wanna stay
The way he grasps me
Is the most fulfilling sensation ever
I wanna give him what his heart hungers for
Let him tear me apart ardently
Touching me in **** spaces
That makes me greatly shudder

His manly scent is all over me
Such a valiant and splendacious man
I’m abounding in bliss
Satiated, elevated, and amazed
He got me caught up in his maze
And as refreshing as he is
I don’t wanna escape from this place
Norbert Tasev Oct 2020
Even maybe I didn’t even break up now that you executed me and threw me like a rag! You broke my heart, trembling for you. Even now, I may not have interrupted even now that in the time of your pressing need, I was the one who sacrificed you in consolation, and when final despair drove pearl ***** in the trenches of your snow-white face, I was there for you and my consolation mixed with selflessness!

Even now I am not used to perhaps seeing the betrayal of your kisses not meant for me, and yet without envy and jealousy I endured and hoped in you - maybe one day the consecrated vow of a juror will change! Tell me, my little fairy pup? Have you ever loved your son-in-law fool?
Even now, I don't quite get used to the fact that it's just a dream, a fairy tale - a mere nonsense, and that deploying super bombers of your kind is just a general exercise, a game, and a pleasure. - Now everything is confused and the memories are hurting and swirling.

"Even now I don't really know what you chose in me that made me a traveling companion in love?" And that everything He gave with the momentary joys, cosmos blisses of the Universe, He gave with you! With your outburst of laughter. Hair, but there was a little beetle long ago that I could meet you: Times were unworthily kidnapped, and oblivion was closer to you than memory.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
.and i'll begin as i usually begin, with a clarity of intent, namely? the ritual of at least two drinks of whiskey and, now, not as before, with ginger ale... then i'll start by cracking my fingers in numerous ways, before bribing them with some akin to what a fly does when it "washes" itself, that grand anticipatory gesture associated with malicious intent, with a blank ****** expression, eyes focusing on a fixed point, albeit not one that might be receeding, i'll sit down and...

i figured prayer wouldn't do much for me,
this, feeble mantra
                                     of sorts...
        i was taught how to pray,
  but i never learned: how to pray,
          a mere regurgitation is never enough,
no dogmatic god whistle in my ear,
sounding some impeding doom,
        only the little horrors of an everyday
life,
         strapped to the present,
with some expectations of a heroic past,
and an exponentially innovative future...
so if i can't pray...
                      and i won't pray...
will it take this mere soliloquy
                   to satiate my current needs?
well... no...
            i "think" i've come up with something
else...
   that old myth that drinkers drink
infront of the mirror...
                         i hate mirrors...
                 i never understood a barber
shop, to a lesser extent,
    i actually don't understand
          how people can just continually
gaze at themselves when strapped
                                  to a barber's chair...
to me the whole experience
is a worth about as much as a blink of
the eye when the barber has finished.
     today, i'll try something different...
i'll go, buy myself the whiskey,
the ginger ale,
             and hopefully,
                   a candle...
                  or two...
                             or three...
posit them in my room,
   and wait for the menace to appear...
              and then...
   in completely privacy...
                              i'll talk to my shadow,
at least he knows where he's going;
if this "god"
                     made into a noumenon aspect...
grand juror of all things
unfathomable...
                 i'll do likewise...
                       believe in him,
  not believe in him, love him, hate him,
   it's really beside the point right now...
   i'll just make sure i conjure up
       my companion and have a wee chat.
Michael Marchese May 2021
Informed to form
My firm opinion
Not my friend
Just yet
Regret
A little more
Before
Then talk,
I am the scarecrow
On the stalk
The laughing stock
Holders in stocks
And still I shock
The mock show
Trial
Dam nations
Like a sun of the Nile
Reviled for spreading
My virus papyrus
And bleeding peripheries
Dry of supplies
Like the juror within
Privatized little spies
Just bejeweled
In the severed crown’s
Israeli ties
Active, legit hot war in the Middle East’s last (and first?) pseudo-democratic holdout. Could get real. Stay tuned

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