What everyone sees as the light of day.
Is wit for our justice, to snicker and play.
Wise and learned, they know the rules.
Know well also, how to make us fools.
To jack up the stakes on either side.
Craftily then to fling us on a ride.
Cook up a bowl of scheme and plot.
Brazen on our chest, then pin a blot.
Our mother is dying, her bare body lies.
Stony and unseeing stare her eyes.
Sullied and stained her flesh now rots.
The vultures push and jostle for lots.
As a tear is rolling down my cheek.
Festering sores with stench now reek.
The drama of leeks simmers and ebbs.
Pus oozes freely from her fetid blebs.
I sob as maggots writhe and turn.
In weeping cuts wriggle and churn.
Forever the shameless suckers latch.
Vermin inside with habits to match.
Assembled the slayers, to hear her will.
Wrangle on remains and footing the bill.
Slyly our justice looks at the sight.
Coldly glowers at our mounting plight.
Who’s looking for medals or a shining star?
This milieu has treasures, the spoils of war!
You may not see, you are digging a grave.
M‘Lord! Either your kids or you be brave!
used in the past by a servant or ordinary person for talking to a man of high social status.
supreme power or rule.
a respectful form of reference or address to a judge, a bishop, or a man with a title.
just behaviour or treatment.
a judge or magistrate, in particular a judge of the Supreme Court of a country or state.