Birthday Poem

We are gathered outside the magistrates’ court

To witness justice wither away.

Barristers with black sling-bags and grey

Drainpipe suits slink inside past officials today

As we listen to the Grim Reaper

Analyse the truth’s ignominious departure.

Big lorries blare their support.

Lamborghinis could not give a fuck.

The Lion and the Unicorn above us all

Have one comment: Dieu et mon droit.


We are gathered outside the magistrate’s court

Attended by the foreign press. It seems the Beeb

Is on Easter break as we unite in chants for freedom,

All too aware that this is an illusion

Rubbishing those rights for which so many fought.

A signature establishes the irrational.

The CIA are here among us trying to look hip.

And as the wife of Julian Assange

Communicates a foregone conclusion.

The prosecution flees like rats from a sinking ship.

About anthonyhowelljournal

Poet, essayist, dancer, performance artist....
This entry was posted in Poetry, Politics, Whistleblower Lit and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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