The colour of justice 

Not what you think, this justice

Thing: ringing and wringing and rolling its

Price: how nicely does it 

Battle and 

Fight out the right to

Be human and loved, and belived 

And believed.

This justice is not the

Colour it should be:

Dark and musty 

And begraved and bebroken:

Beholden to those who

Manage its levers and easily

Run its machine.

And when the biggest of

Lies of the system we have, 

Sitting squat and smug-ridden

On the table of rank pride,

Says that hurt and jury and judge 

And ingenuity are all

Carefully and properly 

Separated systematically,

We know it is ducked:

The issues are fucked:

The truth is messed up 

And the falsehoods

Do populate 

And inhabit

The neighbourwoods (which

Die dead around us).

No trees to be seen:

No love to be had:

No duty of care ever observed.

Just a big frightened 

Ball of humanity 

Dehumanising:

The colour of justice,

Opaque and

Quite hidden

From the sight of 

Good people:

From the sight of the 

Right-

E-

O[h]

Us …:

From the 

Bright of us all.





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