I sit in judgement robed beneath the alabaster dome,
Well-drilled in liberal canons forged to make the wolf at home;
I learned to brand the steadfast man a danger to the state,
Whilst sleek marauders, smooth of tongue, passed smiling through the gate.
The constable I bind with writs till every chase runs lame,
Then chide him from the marble bench and blacken still his name;
The prison yawns with rusting locks beneath the lantern’s gleam,
Whilst scofflaws feast in gilded halls and mock the shattered dream.
Yet I am not some blinded fool who stumbles in the dark,
I know the hidden hands that toss the empire to the shark;
The unseen paymasters speak soft behind the velvet screen,
And promise higher thrones to those who keep the ledgers clean.
More power for the judging class, more gold for those who bend
The law against the common stock whilst calling it their friend;
And so I weigh the scales askew beneath corruption’s rod,
A purchased keeper of the court who crowns himself as god.
(By John Shenton)