Steel
charisma broken free
Congregate
amongst
A
gaggling of sums
If
hope concludes prior to verdict,
Does
eternity rest entirely?
Upon
such darkened days,
A judge, man, pretender, garbed in silk—
Unveils judgments, predicated by mortal law,
As
spoken by a chorus of peers
Crowds,
the stimulus deprived, crash-watchers
Merge
with the anti, all in the name of show
Beneath
the guise of justice,
Saunter
stands in arrival formation,
Gathering
amongst their sects,
There,
at such time,
Outside
the courthouse—
Beneath
its steps,
Chants
spew forth—
And
the names of the devoutly fallen,
Echo,
well prior to any announcement
or
final rendering, promoting the semblance
of
relation, where deities easily strike a similarity of fear through
Transformation
as evinced from bolts flung from clouded cover
In
such episodes of regression,
Fate
appears predetermined,
Perhaps
a cyclicality of prophecy
Shall
flood the mental indices
So
easily man casts man
Under
condemnable outlines
Skirts
of what once Is
The
color of blood stirring under flesh
Means
nothing
The
accuracy of ruling is secondary
To
the corralling of public sentiment
For
the face of the betrayed
Shall
eventually watch his last hours dwindle past
Shall
eventually see that last mile strolled
Until
the color of blood stirring under flesh
Mingles
with serum made by flesh
Thus
ending any visual reminder
Of
the judgments we once crawled begging for
Justice
and her scales
May
as well reconstruct the garden labyrinth
I’d
assume the beast found there
Will
lend much more just an ear
