Silence Is Court Poem by GRANT FRASER

The exemplar is somehow responsible
for the examples,
now shown to all,
to be the whole and nothing
but the whole -

'Truth'

in it's demented lying
state of flux!

It is no longer, and never has thus
weighed much in the current corpuscles,
of so called - clear cut meaning...

while stating it's infinite claim,
from some ancient space on
today's corrupted ladder of fake premise,

while some whirlpool old wind machine...

sucks the molecules out from the four feeble
corners,

Or worse still...considers everything
to be plaintively sane and righteous,

Sucking on the warts of everyday burden,
That's a day's work on the misguided
figures of this world,

Using ****! like four letter tripods,
just to make sure - their muddled clients
feel safe,

While desk tops burp out vapourous letters
to the courts of sheep,

like from where we are - it just keeps turning
and turning...

like it should?

as the photographers stake their ground,
for the big spectacle,
or some journalistic cheap spread,

While the barrels change,
and the wine bottles arrange,

In the great big rooms,
between the Courthouse & Archibalds