The trial

Stand up, boy, you are accused!
Do you have a name?
His head is bowed in shame,
Cuffed and barefoot, face abused.

In a prisoner’s attire and blemished skin,
He already looks like a convict,
Yet his day in court is just to begin. 

Amphetamine – twenty pills in all.
What do you say, boy, how do you plead?
Silence for an answer, captured in thrall.
Speak up boy, answer me now!
A woman whimpers ‘so sorry, he won’t do it again.’
Be quiet there, you speak when I allow!

So now, boy, back to you,
What shall I do?
Trafficking in narcotics, says the writ.
Trying to make money fast,
I take it.

In the war on drugs, you are an enemy soldier,
But fast money is not for the rank and file.
It is for the generals, with minds calculating, and much colder.
In this war, you are a hostile,
But with your lords,
We stand shoulder to shoulder.

The show must go on,
We are tough on crime,
All mercy is gone.

Trafficking, I say, you must now feel the pain.
Five years in a cell,
Five years locked to a chain.
And you, boy, will think you are in hell.

Case is closed,
Justice has been done.
The poor are to crime pre-disposed.
The market rules do proclaim;
The well heeled must forever so remain.

Hence poverty is a crime,
And prisons are for the dispossessed,
Our system is sublime,
The rule of law will quash all unrest! 


My notes from a day in court - contributed by Marcus Baltzer