Disgracing lady justice, p.1
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Disgracing Lady Justice
Disgracing Lady Justice

  By Samantha Terrell


  Disgracing Lady Justice

  When will it end?

  What’s it all for?

  All this,

  “Taking it on the chin”


  “Not keeping score”

  When do the hard-workers

  Get to stop working for free?

  When will the greedy-haters

  Start to finally see

  The imbalance imbued by

  A culture of mediocrity?

  Taking away all the rules

  Won’t make everything fair;

  Protecting the interests

  Of a small faction

  Leaves countless many

  Without regard or care


  Lest We Forget

  Lady Liberty surely tires

  Of holding

  Her torch for others

  While her constituents conspire

  Against her or, equally

  As wretched, take for granted,

  Her selfless generosity


  Renovating the Capitol

  A coup de maître is underway

  To renovate and remodel,

  Strip down and reshape our nation.

  Rather than discarding the existing

  Furniture, fabric bolts are expertly selected

  For the reupholstering.

  And, one discreet swipe at a time the mural of diversity,

  Education and innovation,

  Progress and industry

  Will, with a final master stroke, be painted over,

  Making a nation’s truth defenders

  Into frustrated up-enders

  Whereby their “resistance” was also planned,

  Counted on,


  Rendering the artisans’

  Carefully sculpted Trojan horse,

  Into one full of its own citizens


  Dark Money Ages

  The Dark Ages of history, a natural extension

  Of a humanity unready for its own consequences.

  Wars and ignorance fail us, but persist;

  The apple on Eden's tree that we can't resist.

  And an age returns, as though anew.

  It's the Dark 'Money' Ages we've now plunged into,

  Creating a movement it cannot control.

  Alas, man's empires will always fall


  ‘Divided’ We Stand?

  A pact of money

  Binds the few,

  Revealing positions that

  Poison the many,

  With a dense

  And blinding fog

  Consisting of droplets

  Who choose to misrepresent.

  Securing a foothold

  On the right, means

  Slippage on the left,

  And if the left foot finds solid ground,

  The right falters; back and forth again

  Until the damp air turns murky,

  And it’s hard to tell where

  We are going, since

  Policy shifts with money changing hands,

  Dividing the people, and

  Deciding the fate of

  Where we all stand


  And to the ‘Hypocrites’ For Which We Stand…

  It’s been a long time

  In the making,

  With hurt and hatred

  Wrought by those, through many times,

  In many places,

  Who create

  And re-create

  An atmosphere

  Of quiet turmoil, of

  Reticence, and fear

  But now

  The hushed lulls in our

  Melting pot of

  Cultural questioning,

  Have boiled over

  Again, into an argument over

  National security. And politicians, elected

  By a system of freedom and democracy,

  Happily succumb to

  Blatant hypocrisy,

  As they concede—they need

  More time to find,

  Or make, a legal way

  Of keeping refugees, and

  Civil liberties at bay


  The Terrorist Who Stole My Heart

  A slimy coward full of anger,

  Jealousy, and spite

  Snuck in by day,

  Not even requiring dark of night,

  And stole from my treasure-trove

  Of neighbors and community,

  Replacing kindness and trust

  With skepticism and anxiety.

  Then, with my fellow citizens on board,

  Some sleazy pick-up lines worked fine

  To sway a few shadowy politicians

  From their otherwise well-meaning positions.

  Until, that terrorist's

  Persuasions complete,

  He slithered back to watch

  My heart fall at his feet.

  And though the terrorist

  Is the one who is guilty,

  I'm the one condemned to mourn

  For lost freedoms...my heart, my liberty


  Our National Church

  We say our daily prayers, and convene

  With fellow man,

  And our friends on a

  Scrolling social media feed,

  Tailored to reiterate our Likes.

  And then we watch our evening shows,

  Where bullets fly, and people don't die,

  But miraculously rise again

  To record the next

  Most-watched season!

  So, when

  The news

  Reports of lives lost

  Due to needlessness, excuses

  Are quickly made

  To explain away the issue,

  Or better yet, distract us

  From the fact that we create

  Endless victims of circumstance

  When we prostrate ourselves

  In worship at our revered church of violence.


  Southern Pride

  Fly that Confederate flag

  If you like,

  Enjoy your southern pride.

  Just don’t be surprised

  If you sacrifice some rights.

  Reread the history books.

  Rights were not given;

  It was rights they forsook.

  And reading some

  Other history can’t hurt.

  The French revolted for rights' sake

  But Marie Antoinette said,

  "Let them eat cake."

  As for the 99% that complain,

  Standing strong despite the rain,

  Eating their cake has been disrupted,

  What with Hostess Twinkies bankrupted.

  So please don’t claim to

  Love heritage and history,

  Touters of ignorance and

  Rejecters of the real story.

  Yes, there were defenders.

  What was it they sought?

  Freedoms and rights;

  Plentitude, not plight;

  Advancement of classes, yes;

  Only, benefitting the few

  At the expense of the masses



  Shards of glass

  From broken ceilings

  Cause a need

  For fancy footwork

  Then while we are

  Dancing, dancing, the

  Obvious pain we begin feeling

  Isn't just a sharp-piece, stuck

  But the realization

  That we, reasonable,

  Have been crowded

  Out to margins, left to luck


  Attempting to Bend the Invisible Bars

  Liberating the innocent,

  Sets both the captor and captive free,

  And the release itself shows the prisoner

  What they were never aware they could be.

  Unless, it was only a party trick;

  A cleverly placed mirror, for instance,

  That would make

  Steel bars appear bent.

  But a caged animal cannot hope to become tame,

  Until freed from its burdensome yokes,

  And given a proper name,

  Some training, guidance, and preparation

  To face the cruelties outside the pen,

  Because even the free, are not free from a magic mirror’s deception


  Hot Under the Blue Collar








  Rises in

  The thermometer

  As middle-class peace of mind

  Vanishes with the

  Price per gallon

  And, not by choice, but by force

  The climate changes,

  As do we.

  Now, how do we

  Break free

  Of this dependency?


  It is relative

  To say we are free?


  ‘America, America'

  Playing in traffic

  We gamble with

  Our children’s future,

  Our own already threatened.

  We are adolescent


  Sophomoric in our

  Reasoning skills

  Unwilling to admit

  We might be wrong:

  Wrong foreign policy,

  Wrong economic policy,

  Wrong social policy.

  I tremble in the boots

  By whose straps

  I am supposed to pull myself up

  I want off this

  Carnival ride

  But the crowds keep cheering it on and on,

  Until all I can do is pray,

  ‘America, America’

  God spare us from tragedy

  Bring home our troops

  Bring back our jobs

  Bring healthcare to our needy

  ‘America, America’

  God spare us from tragedy

  And crown us again

  With dignity

  ‘From sea to shining sea’

  (‘America, America’ was first published with Poets Responding to Senate Bill 1070)


  Carnival Rides

  In the hard work of peace,

  Rather than passing by the ticket booths

  That showcase others’ pain,

  Or worse, absolving their attackers,

  Or, still worse, retaliating in vain…

  The times yearn for

  Patrons to feel,

  To learn, and to mourn,

  With those multitudinous victims

  And earth’s children, yet unborn

  Rather than getting lost

  In a house-of-mirrors,

  Fueled by the delusion of denial,

  Or making a childlike choice

  To join in a tug-of-war with anger;

  And, as an alternative to riding

  The merry-go-round

  Of emotional bargaining,

  Or resigning to depression

  In the tent of the grotesque man,

  There is yet one more carnival feature,

  A one of a kind!, Out of this world!

  Venue with a show-host named Acceptance,

  Who, amongst the chaos, posits the question:

  “How can we be helpful?”


  'Bleak Mid-Winter'

  Solemn hawk

  In dormant tree


  The warmest

  Yet harshest

  Of winters

  When bold flocks

  Refuse to fly in sync


  In indecision,


  Forward motion,

  Except of

  The advancement

  Of corruption.

  With fall-out from

  A crumbling core, summoning

  A bleak season of anarchy


  Undercurrents of Anarchy

  The devil's horns have

  Sharpest tips

  Such that ache ekes

  Out above evil's


  Tripping up good

  Intentions, with heartache

  To act as bait,

  Luring little

  Minds, into


  Using naïveté, and with pointedness,


  Direction, directed at

  Distracting masses

  While massive

  Motion beneath these

  Pitchfork prongs,

  Gains momentum,

  Pushing undercurrents swiftly from

  Facts, while rudimentary

  Knowledge runs wildly away,

  Chasing, instead, a pointed-seeming

  Orange carrot, and carrying society,


  Toward chaos



  A deceitful




  As with purpose,

  Self-absorbed zombies



  In self-created


  Shining flashlights

  Which simply project

  Pre-meditated mental imagery,

  Readily blurring

  Out the needs of others,

  Effortlessly reflecting

  Personal desires,




  Toward the next objective.

  All the while,


  Beckoning the night



  As sickening death


  A wanton cry


  "Be more! Do more!"

  It begs,

  Prove that compassion

  Is not dead--

  A privilege reserved

  For the select.

  For, in a generation

  Whose great iniquity

  Is the practice of


  The true pandemic

  Threat, is Apathy

  (Pandemic was first published in West Chester University’s Ebola chapbook)


  Injustice, Done

  When a scandal

  That is a scandal,

  Isn't why the scandal

  Is a scandal;

  When the truth keeps

  Us from speaking,

  Rather than teaching

  Us to speak;

  When the world believes

  The lies we're told

  Simply because

  We are too weak

  To worry about an injustice done;

  And when we are relieved

  That injustice, itself, is no longer a threat,

  Injustice has already won.


  Upside-Down World

  Too often we look emotionally

  Upon that which needs objectivity,

  And too often we look objectively

  Upon matters of the heart

  Why do we walk past

  Our neighbors in need,

  With more mouths

  Than they can feed?

  How can we neglect

  A friend who is sick?

  Why is a note or a phone call

  So hard to make?

  And why do we often

  Let fear

  Drive our finances?

  And our cars, frustration?

  Work-places and politics

  Driven by vague feelings,

  Don’t make for strong nations;

  We’re upside-down.

  Let’s take the emotion

  Out of our honeymoons

  And put it

  Into our marriages,

  Stop over-thinking


  And basing decisions

  On raw passion

  There is a place for the heart

  To be cautious, and

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