Get Rid Of The Advertisements


Justice wears no robe… wields no gavel.
Owned by the wealthy, Justice is a stranger to the poor, a lie to the needy.
She belongs to the highest bidder, a sultry pawn…a charming harlot.
Her favors are won through strength, and by force of arms.
She reeks of cordite, cleaning solvent and machine oil.
Justice has been measured in muzzle velocity, heft and draw, and in foot pounds of energy.
Throughout history the rich and powerful have bought her favors evading the gallows while others, as Justice slept, wrongly faced the executioner’s hand.
Justice is the whore of whores…inequity her handmaiden.
Enjoyed by the privileged few, her favors are bought and sold.
Hatred…racism…class separatism…bigotry… these are her bastard sons and daughters.
Justice is a bitch, learning her talents from corrupt government…
With the blessings of common fools.

By Metaphor

© 2019 Metaphor (All rights reserved)


Read more poems by  Metaphor
Send this poem to a friend
Read 3 viewers comment(s)

The Starlite Cafe Discussion Board | Home

Back to Previous Page