Poetry

---

Within these wooden halls of justice,
history stands a silent vigilance. A coat of many colors from Dupont to Sherwin Williams cover her walls to insure that her righteous judges truly be blind.
If these walls could talk, one would only hear the muffled whispers of yesterdays lessons buried under layers & layers of sanctimonious rant.
Modern day serfs & peasents plod listlessly along, hoping the institutions of higher thought have instilled but a morsel of mercy in the minds of their Lordly Magistrates.
Inquisitive glances into the circle of robed jesters conceive arrogant smirks that breed malice & self-loathing and gird the divided rank of an abominable pecking order.
Arthritic gavels resound like demented "Hamlinites", as fates booming voice pipes through the melancholy souls of those...
in the Paupers Parade.

---

PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR BELOW LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE