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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