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Is this the consciousness of the court or legal reality?

 

Osgoode Hall

Where the INNOCENT falls,

after blissfully attending the court’s role calls.

 

The insurgents

of black jackets,

white shirts,

black pants,

and business skirts

loaded with atas cases on the move.

 

As the penguin cloaks,

the  red striped pants,

and blue coats

are held in reserve

to reinforce the ungodly band

 

To fiddle with dark things,

and little ‘white lies.’

To uplift their sins

to ‘white collar crimes,’

and insure no one does time.

 

The unlawful becomes lawful,

truth becomes lies.

The God witness factual reality

are given a legal cosmetic surgery.

To be unholy transformed into evidence

as witnessed by the court.

 

So the innocent can be made guilty,

and the fallible retain their stranglehold.

Legal sinful wickedness

becomes  the policy of ethical morality.

I sure do love my baby girls.

 

‘Judicial Immunity’ is bought and sold

at the haggler’s market corner store

for thirty pieces of silver or choiced gold.

 

They all play on the same legal football team.

To protect the Banks,

secure the Franks,

to Forth Nox the pirate’s bay golden lake,

and destroy the innocent in their wake

 

An army of distractors,

legal sinful raven ravers.

 

Osgoode Hall

where the mighty rule,

the  good people are considered stool

and the weak are set to rune.

 

With unclean hands

You drove me out of the Public Courtroom

kick me off the seat of judgement

and put me on the city’s streets

to eat your vexatious meat.

Best of the homeless foods.

 

Because you believe

a blackman’s family should not achieve,

the Negro male don’t deserve to work

pay taxes and succeed.

To love and mother beloved children.,

and be a member of your creed.

 

You so believe

the blackman is nothing but a criminal

A race Horse to be owned

or a vandal to be stoned.

 

A beast of burden to be wrecked

So his awesome potential is kept in check

and never unleashed.

To cause the planting of trees.

 

To be made a mockery of,

to live upon his knees begging ‘please…’

And for his children

to crawl upon their bellies like eals.

 

This is the only cog in the social machine

reserved for him and his children’s children.

 

If he should refuse their generous enslaving aid

then he shall be generously paid,

with brutalization

slanderlization

and bankrupt with a pound of lies,

to force you to want to die

even though weeping widows may spill their eyes,

and beloved babies may cry.

 

To make  their malicious beliefs real

while pursuing their covert purpose.

 

Black children, does not deserve to blossom

like a beautiful yellow rose  in ‘Hogtown’

or soar like a monarch butterfly.

 

But if you read the writing on the courthouse walls

I could have better food that I have chosen,

maybe that which my own hands has grown

 

Heed Her-Majesty’s call

and be fair to one and all

follow the protocols

written on public walls,

and hypocritical hallowed halls.

 

Hold close to your breast

the philosophy in steel capital letters,

written in English and French on a secret crest

in Osgood's Hall holy backyard

 

A parable of the Lion and the Lamb,

on a Seesaw with perfect balance

on the three dimensional wedge

on The Queen’s Bench.

 

“EVERY INDIVIDUAL IS EQUAL

BEFORE AND UNDER THE LAW

AND HAS THE RIGHT TO

THE EQUAL PROTECTION

AND EQUAL BENEFIT

OF THE LAW

WITHOUT DISCRIMINATION”

 

But these are empty words

written on hollow authority hearts.

Wasted spoken pearls

cast before freedom-rights stealing swines.

 

But, here I stand upon bipolar lands

suffering at the hands of perverted public plans.

Oh God, where has all my children gone?

 

Disgraced public Servant contravening UN Policies

Discrimination by Distinction enforced

by legal prejudgetice

with a ready sword in their right hand

they stomp down another innocent black man.

 

Quiet, subtle, systemic Racism.

Do they even remember the covenant promise plans?

 

Ronins,

public servants without a master

or public authority gone rogue.

 

The blasphemous loathing.

The dishonour.

Oh, the shameless shame

of  the dishonorable same!

 

But it would seem

the purpose is to steel,

kill

and destroy

families upon this promise land

 

In conquest of the impecunious poor,

which is singing the “The Conqueror's Victory Song.”

The system of Lords and serfs

has been resurrected in full force.

 

Osgoode Hall

where the hord

of soulless lawyers march on.

Who are not dead,

but has cast off the feelings of being alive,

and evolved above the law of living.

Filling in the city streets

with homeless vagabonds.

 

After it’s COURT SERVICE WORKERS

under strict command

has prepared the uneven battle field,

in hiding your evidence,

stealing your innocence

and vanquishing the truth

to special reserved tombs.

 

Then try to feed you

with mockery insulting your intelligence

in making amends for ‘uncleanhands’

for pass forgotten inhumanity to man,

as legal sins to it’s own machiavellian plans.

 

To rejoice in the demise of fiduciary victims

To savor the victory of the innocent incense smells

of daily homeless victims.

 

While wallowing in their pride

of proceedings conquest

like happy ecstatic pampered pigs

frolicing in a trough of golden mud

with their fine French Wines

for a well earned festival time.

 

Oh, the bountiful feast at the round table

of ‘Bar’ and daggered Knights.

 

The herds of people

they put in there predetermined rightful place

as living scarecrows

for the few braveheart souls

of beggars,

haggs,

CAMH scavengers manufactured by scallywaggs.

 

By karma

we live or fall!

 

Where has all my family gone?

 

Leegal Poet

Wayne Ferron . All rights reserved @ copyright