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Poetry - Justice Tom Gone
Exerpt i am an ubiquitous griffin that flies eternally and willfully through space and time in the poetry of man's mind. i know what men of all nations have wrought supposedly in the name of justice. i know what. i know what for. i know how many times and for whom for generations we have searched for it on land and ancient waters a trillion years old. we have combed the globe reeking havoc on those who resisted our crusades, our pogroms in ancient wars and genocide in the new. at last, justice! justice that is rooted in a system of evidence. both solid and circumstantial. evidence that proves any case beyond any reasonable doubt. evidence that is sifted through and weighed by a jury of one's piers. evidence that proves some cases with reasonable doubt. justice, without double jeopardy. justice that knows not one man from the other. justice that knows not class or cast. justice that knows not gender nor race. at last! in our search of searches we have found it!! we have found it in color for the browns and the golds! and it is clean, dressed up, and it is right! justice stands before us all shining and glowing and beckoning for all to come and share. indeed, it is a rare and beautiul thing. come! come all ye who are weary and heavily laden! parttake in this most magnificent and plentiful flow of justice!! ### and the earth began to shake and growl. old graves began to heave in eruptions like pulse festering volcanic sores. and the rivers that flow in veins from the glaciered peaks of the north through the heartlands through the muddy sooty south will give up the long buried unnamed and forgotten. the dripping dead will reveal a dante's hell of innocent souls dead souls seeking this elusive justice. the justice that the browns and the golds have received. hallowed justice at last for all!! dead souls are transformed into mortals again and they rise from their rotted coffins in their rotted rags and tattered crowns of blood and mud matted in theirwoolyhair. they come forth with gaping slit throats cuffed hands bulletriddledbodies ropesaroundtheirnecks hangingtonguesandbulgingeyes. bloated unrecognizable smelling and ugly. a soul once named emmet till. 12...13? murdered for whistling at death and justice wore a funny hat. winked at the culprits and set them free. they later sold their story to a careless nation that slipped on their verbal prophylactics rather than remedy the crime a dead soul named megar evers riffled down before his wife and young children, as he stepped from his car and justice acquitted the bragging gunman for three generations!!! a dead soul named jessie davis, mentally deranged, who threatened a number of albany's finest--here! up south!--with a spoon and was blown away! and here come all those dead souls who were murdered in davis fashion who had a knife, or a gun planted in their hands while justice set the killers free. and how many thousands who were unfortunate enough to have a slender pale finger point them out will rise on that day? crying, trembling, slobbering, and stumbling towards wonderful, evenhanded justice? while griffin counts and watches. and the browns and the golds deserve and enjoy their justice. justice for whom? justice for all! justice for all! |
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death is cool, calculating and a patient planer. so was thomas death often knocks, then goes away but vows to return but thomas expressed an attitude I know you’re coming back thanks for the borrowed time on the debt that was made when I first arrived thanks for waiting 77 years for my last payment in full for death is only a transition, an alteration in the scheme of living it is only human to mourn to recall good times and bad but while doing so let us never forget to celebrate the beautiful blessings of sharing such a valuable life |