OBJECTION, YOUR HONOUR
Ironic liberty caps put him in the dock here.
Plus a system not quite broken but severely bent.
Climbed a sycamore entranced by the texture, the scent.
Then someone comes down the road. Too late to disappear.
This officer of the law – you see his type worldwide.
Worships petty regulations. (i.e. benighted.)
“I proceeded to caution the accused who replied …”
The constable consulted his notebook, recited
“‘Oh, the colours, the colours,’ he giggled and sighed.”
Now the magistrate’s favourite part, inducing fear.
The power to deal harshly with any miscreant.
“Something you wish to say before I pronounce judgement?”
“Beam me up, Scotty. It’s getting rather hot down here.”
“I don’t know,” she said.
Wisest thing she’d said all night
And quite a surprise.
I inform you you’ve a
Quite unique way of
But then you are
Of that and so
My own words?
THE NOBLE SILENCE TWENTIETH CENTURY STYLE
Whenever she feared that she did not have
Anything much worthwhile to contribute
She’d restrict herself to a ‘Like’, a Smiley
Kept her vast swathes of ignorance private
It might do her public image no good at all
ON THE OTHER FOOT
As less than men
Are less than men if they