Law-Suit Poem by Drich The Poet

The law is bookish.
Says the British.
What do it can? ?
Questions the American.

From nowhere,
to somewhere,
it came to be,
a ruler,
birth out of the minds of elites.

Sits in the middle of papyrus, Preached about in his church,
Called the savior of man, -
Nemesis of trespassers.

Tailored in many mindset.
Different jurisdictions and explanation.
Varied purpose and limit.

Lawsuit!
Offender of the uneducated!
Betrayer of the lured!
Backstabber of the slaves! Companion to the wealthy.

Whom do you serve? ?
The helpless
or the helped? ?

What are you for? ?
To speak the truth or
convert lies to truth? ?

You have lost value.
The natives don't know
what back up they have.
Afraid of what not to do,
they become zombies in broad daylight.

Lawsuit!
Several decades of amendments
yet you can't still
satisfy your people.
Perhaps amendments
equals rigging.

They close you
and utter perceptive feelings,
in the name of the "law".

Law-suit!
You bark and bark.
Eyes closed, and you end up
eating the wrong person.
Like a lighted banger!

Like a lion.
You roar and roar.
Brain's clogged, you end
up fighting on the wrong side.
Like a controlled puppet.

Law, without a suit is not a law.
Law is just law.
It's manicure makes it vibrant.
Law is ordinary whilst
lawsuit is an art.