Posted: June 23, 2014 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

courtroom artb y Goa Streets



The madman stands, he’s set to face the charges
From his chambers walks the Judge, so fat and old
The Spectators start to sing the Rock of Ages
The Jury’s busy counting bribes of gold.
            (and all the while the Press is cutting paper dolls of death
            to hang around the madman’s neck and wrists
            and all the while the Undertaker’s busy sawing wood
            as the midnight fog swirls in a ghostly mist.) 

The Prosecutor smiles and damns the madman
The first Witness is the Teacher from the school
The madman’s Lawyer’s busy reading Perry Mason
While the Witness cites the madman as a fool.
            (for after all, the madman never understood the rules
            he tried to find the answers different ways
            we told him that he must achieve to prove that he was good
            instead, he walked around us in a daze.) 

The Judge is laughing, farting, burping, picking at his teeth
The Prosecutor kisses his wide ass
The Spectators drink the wine and eat the host provided by the Priest
The Jury’s busy sniffing laughing gas.
            (and all the while the Press is playing word games on the sly
            Hangman’s the game that they all like the best
            and all the while the Undertaker’s carving on a stone
            as the midnight fog swirls in a ghostly mist.) 

The next Witness is the Lover from a past spring
The one the madman once wrote poems to
She recites one, barely holding back her laughter
The madman cries aloud, “I still love you!”
            (the Judge is nibbling at her ear while she just smiles,
            she understands an action more than words,
            the Jury’s busy feeling up each other just for fun,
            the Prosecutor shouts out ,”Love’s absurd!”) 

The third Witness is the friend of a long lifetime
The one the madman once helped through hard times
He damns the madman for his condescension
The Judge shouts, “Friendship is another crime!”
            (and all the while the Press is painting yellow paragraphs to sell
            the Reading Public has to feed its face,
            and all the while the Undertaker makes a flower wreath
            as the midnight fog swirls in a ghostly mist.) 

“Does anyone else wish to damn the madman?”
Asks the Judge while leafing through a book of porn
The madman’s Lawyer stands and says, “No witness”
The Bailiff, Judge and Jury stifle yawns.
            (the madman knows the end’s in sight, he anxiously looks ‘round
            the Spectators break out in a drinking song
            the Priest and Undertaker are busy talking shop
            passing ‘round a pipe and getting stoned.) 

“Argument’s denied!” the Judge says laughing,
He has to meet his Mistress after tea
“I release the Jury, hurry there’s not much time.”
The Foreman stands and shouts a loud, “Guilty!”
            (and all the while the Press is busy interviewing friends
            death enters from the side door for her kiss
            and all the while the Undertaker prepares for the end
            as the midnight fog swirls in a ghostly mist.) 

“Madman, stand,” the Bailiff barks, his voice hoarse
“You’ve been found guilty!” says the Judge with glee.
“Here comes death for her gallant hero
You must pay for your humanity.”
            (the madman stares in disbelief as Death offers her hand
            he starts to scream, but calms with her soft touch,
            he smiles, full knowing that he’s finally free,
            before the trial he only guessed as much.) 

Chaos lays her warped claim upon the courtroom
The Spectators demand the madman’s blood
But the body’s being eaten by the Jury
As the Priest drinks deep from his loving cup.
            (and all the while the Press is beating deadlines by the score
            as Agents in the corner make new lists,
            and all the while the Undertaker shakes his head in awe
            as the madman’s soul swirls in a ghostly mist.) 

    By David Allen


 Like my poetry? Then buy my book, “The Story So Far,” published by Writers Ink Press, Long Island, N.Y. You can find it on ( in paperback and Kindle formats, or by sending me $10 at:

David Allen
803 Avalon Lane
Chesterfield, IN 46017


  1. Joe Hadley says:

    Who says nice guys finish last?They have a ball with love and truth They move slow but most die fast.Were they the ones with misspent youth?So damn the torpedoes and full speed aheadfor poetry is lost on the quacks in the court.Ready the gallows and “off with his head”.He really never understood the rules of the sport. I like all your poems….thanks for keeping me in the know.Joe

    Date: Tue, 24 Jun 2014 00:52:47 +0000 To:


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