The Corrupt Judge Poem by Randy McClave

He goes to work in his nice pressed suit
Then he covers it up with a pressed black gown,
He sets the air conditioning on, he is ready to prosecute
Then he tells all to shut up, as he slams his gavel down.

With a badge or a gun he never protected the law
Neither here nor abroad in a uniform has he ever defended it,
Nor never had he examined or questioned it or seen its flaw
But, others he is ready to judge and persecute them by it.

He gets his power, not by GOD, but by the voters
He enjoys the power that has been placed in his hand,
He is always happy to help out his own supporters and promoters
He likes to be thought as a GOD, when people take the stand.

The tears of a woman is his only temptress
Political motivations is his main desire,
Others he wants and he needs to always impress
He really doesn't care who is telling the truth, or who is the liar.

After eight hours on the bench, he goes home for the day
He then has a large dinner followed by a larger drink,
The guilty he never shows a sadness for, or for them will he pray
About there well being or their life he doesn't even think.

He never works the weekends or the holidays
He is college educated so he is not like either you or I,
On his justice scales I wonder were fairness and justice weighs
Is he better than me or you because we can never see eye to eye.

He doesn't or wouldn't work in the fields or in the mills
Neither does he wear a badge to protect the citizens at night,
He is not fighting in a foreign land or in the foreign hills
For laws and justice he doesn't sweat for it, or will he ever fight.

Justice is blind, but a Judge he can also hear and see
But, will he see what he wants to see and not the truth,
With him you are forbidden to argue or even disagree
As you sit and are interrogated inside the small booth.

Who is scared of an old woman or man of their teeth or claws
That sits being a desk in an air conditioned room,
They are just elected lawyers they paid to be taught the laws
And they are the ones to give us our doom and gloom.

I say to all the Judges listen the storm it is coming
Can you see the lighting and hear the thunderous sound,
Maybe with each lighting strike, deeds and judgments GOD is summing
And the thunder is when GOD slams his mighty gavel down.

Randy L. McClave