Guilty

Guilty

I could pretend that this poem is some kind of comment on the justice system, or greed or how, in a way, we’re all guilty or whatever. I could pretend that many hours of thought were poured into this poem to ensure that I got my highly political and rousing message just right. I could also pretend that it was a good poem. Unfortunately, none of these things is true. This is simply the tale of a courtroom full of idiots. I wrote it over Summer while I cooked myself dinner. It’s not particularly original but I’m gifting it to you all anyway.

Guilty

Judge:
You stand accused of murder, friend
Your trial is now complete
The jury have retired, friend
They’ve had a chance to meet

The jury have returned, my friend
You look now not so tall
What verdict have you reached, dear friends?
Stand up and tell us all

Jury:
We find the defendant guilty, your honour
Guilty of stealing our hearts
His golden hair, his subtle cheeky grin
Seduced us all! We’ve all been taken in!

Relax your honour, or course I jest
It’s just that we’ve all been so horribly stressed
I thought it best to lighten the mood
Sit down your honour, no need to be rude

We find the defendant guilty of murder
Murderous wit that is
I’ve never seen a swifter, smarter tongue
On one so simple looking and so young

Relax your honour, another gag!
I swear upon the American flag
You need to find your sense of humour
Before you give yourself a tumour

We find the defendant guilty, in truth
Guilty of being innocent
We cannot bare to sit another hour
Under your bitter gaze, your face so sour

We do have a verdict Judge, yours at that!
We charge you with being a miserable prat
You’ve been found guilty upon reflection
And sentenced to death by lethal injection

Huh? What? Say again? (Deafened Ant)

Huh? What? Say again? (Deafened Ant)

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