667 - Vigilantes

The vigilantes of normality
The self-appointed guardians of right
Control the streets and offices, you, me
And knife us in the back as we take flight
But worst of all is when we choose to fight
Then we are hunted down like some poor fox
Hounds salivating; orchestrating bites
Sound of conductor’s baton as it knocks
For silence before the whole building rocks
Sound of the judge’s gavel; the guilty
Hears sentence passed in whispers, out of sight
And must depart; the train waits on its tracks
For some gulag perhaps, or Coventry
The trial over, there’s no chance to see
The charge or build defence. So Kafka writes
Wed 2 July 2008