LPiA Nov20

[Tiger the Lion]

Let's Pretend it's April - Nov. 20

Rules: Write a poem for LPiA on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month have written 30 poems for the month of November. 


Topic : Write a poem about or inspired by a courtroom drama. 
Form : Any
Line requirements: Eight lines or more

Feel free to reply with comments or kudos as you wish. 

Questions?

[RiverNotch]

The body is a congress
when it comes to love:
each part seems represented,
no part is satisfied.

But hate and scorn and envy
are up to judge and jury,
with love their law, their standard
that masks barbarity.

[CRNDLSM]

Kathleen Zellner
I love her so much
The cold brutal stare
The slow deliberation 
Of every drawn word.

Don't lie to her
No, lie to her.
She'll find the truth

[Mark A Becker]

The angel of doom screamed at the judge,
"someone should cut your head off."

You want to put me in a penitentiary,
but kicked me out of the last one.

I didn’t want to go. I liked it there.
I stayed a child while you grew up.

And now your children come at you
with knives.

paraphrased from Manson during his trial: 1970-1971

[dukealien]

Disappointing


What a tangled web, a trial
that all attorneys work their hardest
to avoid
each trying to conceal his plans
to reveal at proper and
improper moments
and a judge who’d rather not
be there either.

Pity juries who expect
drama as from movies, television
and the stage
which all other actors in the court
try to prevent

drama which occurs
only “in chambers” where
what a jury is allowed to see
is scripted to a nicety.

Pity, ah, pity jurors
waiting for a witness to break down
on the stand, surprising revelations
and unexpected guilt revealed
along with information showing
that the victim was a louse.

And pity nations locked into
this compromised and compromising system
which like democracy
is palpably worst
except for all the others
because like a blind hound it
occasionally finds the truth.

[TranquillityBase]

A life is a trial turned on its head
judgement is passed in the womb
and the crime comes last of all.
Witnesses come and go
to spy, to love, to tell us lies,
prosecution becomes persecution
as time collects its discoveries
of guilt and innocence fleeing.
The jury is always out, spectators
seek autographs, sentence is carried out
in no particular order.  
The Law pulls in its shadows
and declares us innocent after all
as our last breath fills the courtroom.
Our last impression: the jury applauding.

[Tiger the Lion]

While They Popped Corn

Imagine a little boy
put on trial
for the failures
of men

Imagine Solomon
careful not to roll his eyes
in case the rolling cameras 
caught him rolling his eyes

Imagine Kafka
dreaming up such a thing