
Losers unite fast.
Winners make moments last.
Spectators lose all.

Lady Justice is blindfolded
that she may not see
who stands before her
and makes a plea
to hear a case on its merits
that justice may be served
under the law, and in equity.
Both matter, you see.
You wear no blindfold.
You simply read
what others have printed,
others, like me.
Prosecution is discretionary
under the theory of equity,
where harm is measured
against circumstances and intent,
and restitution is made with consent.
Except, for those with big names,
when a message is meant to be sent,
Lady Liberty sometimes removes her mask
before the process is commenced.
When process becomes excess to prove a point,
or destroy a wrongdoer to punish someone else,
equity steps in to correct the abuse,
and set free one who was meant to be
as all others would be in the same boat.
This is done to keep justice afloat.
Once her mask is removed it is too late
to argue she must not take it off.
It was already off, right out of the gate.
Curing abuse is not itself abuse.
Do not be so obtuse.
Curing abuse is mercy.
Curing abuse is equity.
Curing abuse is absolutely,
irrevocably, undeniably necessary.
Precedent has been set, it is true.
That courts may show mercy
to me and to you.

It is not just the poppy that addicts.
All flowers do to those
who make gardens grow.
Over rocky , stubbled fields
replacing weeds with scented folds
of roses petaled
in circled fashion we all know.
Flowers call our names
even when we know not theirs,
from rows and rows and rows
of nurseried plants shouting aloud
“Take me home. Take me home!”
So many languages flowers speak.
Gardeners yearn to learn them all,
each one part of a diverse melody
which sings a siren’s song.
The garden is a symphony
of chords and rhythms strong
enough to carry feet along
new paths from dawn to dusk
to worlds unknown beyond.
Strong enough to lift up all
who wander through the varied colors,
kissed by bees and butterflies
taking us along on a joyous ride
to the one place for which we long.
A place of unity and uncommon beauty
freed from wilderness, our wildness tamed;
and fear buried beneath the soil
where it belongs.
Like flowers, in gardens we reach for the sun
and welcome the rain to quench our thirst
for freedom, friendship and mirth.

Filed under POETRY