VERSE | THE CARPING JUDICIARY

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She’s probably flown in on her witch’s broom 
As her sullen starchiness sweeps the room
She looks around her and she spies
Young women having a good time
She glowers at the girls
In their shorts and in their skirts
The lines between her brows grow grim
Huddling together like dowager twins
Then they rise up in stark rebuke
Clamouring, hammering “I’m judging you!”

He sits in the cafe looking around
A smoking gun dangling from his mouth
As he peers over the smoke
It’s gnarled fingers like a cloak
Hide the vileness in his eyes
He stares at the woman who sits alone
She ignores his lecherous stare
He taps his gun, his yellow teeth bared
Smoke-grey lips curl into an ugly “U”
Leering, sneering “I’m judging you!”

This judiciary are the insidious dregs
Of a society that has no legs
No kind eyes. Their hearts are still
Yet they sit there determined to fill
Precious spaces in our lives
With their hats and their beehives.
They hold on to crass old ways
As their own insecurities play
Out an age old tune
Croaking, choking “I’m judging you!”

Give not a hoot nor a call
To them sitting in their Halls
Of Judgement. They are not fit
Not a thimble, not a whit!
Stand your ground with those that will
Force upon you their own bitter pills
Calmly cut them down to size
Look them in their jaundiced eyes
When you spy their mottled souls
Their power fades to judge you at all

Live your life how you will
Reach for the stars, ride the wind
May you always find your spark
Even when all around you is dark
Move away when you feel dragged
Down, down; making you feel bad.
Build within you your own compass
Of dignity, courage and kindness
So that the only one ever judging you
Is YOU dear one, only ever you.

VERSE | THE QUINTESSENTIAL SINNER

She gets out of the car, adjusting her shalwar 
The legs one mustn’t behold, out of their fabric strongholds
The ankles though, for a moment show
Their shameful curvature.

It can’t be helped you see, we are bipedal beings
But we can’t see the nuances of practical biology
When blinded by the nobility of our formidable patriarchy,
And cloaked in out great
Fervour of faith.

And so she bends just a little to adjust the errant drape
And while she endeavours, to hold together
Her blessed modesty
Some man out there, finds her morality in disrepair
What is she bending for, like a dirty, depraved w****!

And the floods of moral outrage at this corrupt spectacle
In their godly country, cause a debacle
Every man takes it upon himself to deface this hideousness
He then looks to his companions, all now chomping at their bits

They rush upon this evil scene, of the wicked and immoral queen
For a queen she is, from head to toe.
Evil, wicked, shameful though!
She makes their blood gush in great floods
Testosterone-filled, Squelching like mud
She makes their heads swim in strange ways
Where she is master and they are slaves.

God does not permit, such sacrilege
Where genders abandon their rightful places
Men are meant to lead them forth
Moral compasses pointing true north
Held aloft by everything, a woman does, from breathing in
To the way she walks in crowded streets:
Ankles hidden, inconspicuous feet.

And that is why an errant sister in faith
(A woman who is alone and out and about!)
Reeking of impudence in her unveiled state
(Putting her entire morality in doubt!)
May naturally be seen by her brothers devout
As a wanton woman standing at hell’s gates.

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