Thursday’s court of petty sessions, crowded in
a random queue, seated where a wait ensures
you’re parted hints of normality & steeped in
a trough of imperiousness, an
introverted shades-of-purple scene, of blurred
jurisdictive diffidence, where pawns decreed
are excused a purpose other than to keep the
farce amused or float its immutability, yet
no clearer message, a covenant of disregard;
you’re miscreants, currency we earn ruling the
roost, a hallowed legacy of ancient ‘traditions’
you’ll never appreciate, being mere thorns of
evidence; that lurid irony where ‘we’ and ‘they’
are separated by officious security, compulsory
screening and diminution of pretentiousness
we’re summarily adjudged to wear, yet tried
and sentenced unworthy characters for bored
looks & belches askance; this is burlesque of
epic trenchancy, do they need release of the
ascription because they’re us too? - and a
Magistrate taking herself seriously in a coterie
of bathos; roles played by her minions make it
laughably cute. Did she need the farcicality of
bobbing heads to earn procedural clout, and
me unmentioned or accused, unneeded for
the hearing, never interviewed or identified in
supporting evidence - a challenge she sees
irredeemable independence - so begone!
a closed Court decree ensures no role to act,
banned an attentive end to her one-scene play,
participation weighed to a 4 hour wait for 30
seconds of peremptory jurisprudence
© 8 November 2013, I. D. Carswell
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