Rolph David
The Scales of Justice Tilt in Gold
Eine scharfe Kritik an einem Justizsystem, das den Mächtigen erlaubt, ungestraft davonzukommen, während die gewöhnlichen Menschen die härtesten Strafen ertragen müssen. Dieses Gedicht konfrontiert die politischen und rechtlichen Misserfolge im Zusammenhang mit Donald Trumps Freispruch und hebt die Frustration und Enttäuschung über die Voreingenommenheit und Korruption des Systems hervor. Es stellt den Zustand der amerikanischen Justiz infrage und fragt, was von der Fairness übrig bleibt in einer Welt, in der Angst und Einfluss herrschen.
A system blind, a truth denied,
Today’s disgrace, no place to hide.
A judge whose word, no force could bend,
Yet Trump’s defiance knows no end.
Merchan’s pen, a tool to shield,
For justice cowers, and fears to yield.
The powerful smile, his hands stay clean,
While countless lives face wounds unseen.
But wait—there’s hope for what’s to come:
A retrial, when the court’s undone.
A harsher judge with strength to show,
Will justice rise and Trump's false glow?
Or will the court, with sharper sight,
Remand him back to face the fight?
For leniency shown in Merchan’s eyes,
Now meets the law, no room for lies.
Merchan’s sentence, a bitter blow,
An unconditional discharge, to let him go.
While justice cries, demanding right,
The guilty walk, unscathed, from sight.
What was this waiting? What delay?
A farce, a mockery, led astray.
Postponed till time would clear the way,
A throne-bound judge would never sway.
Would common folk be shown the same?
No. Their pockets drained, they'd face the blame.
But Trump, above, with words obscene,
Stands unpunished, his power keen.
Could there be justice if he fell?
A harsher hand, a louder yell.
But fear kept Merchan’s hand restrained,
And let the rich remain unchained.
What of the people, crushed beneath,
By systems warped and power’s teeth?
The mighty walk with heads held high,
While others, broken, ask the why.
How much longer will this madness stay?
When justice sold is tossed away?
America, in chains of shame,
Where fear decides and laws are lame.
This court, this farce, a bitter joke,
As truth and trust they leave to choke.
And all who watch must wonder still:
What’s left of justice? What’s left of will?
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Rolph David.
Published on e-Stories.org on 10.01.2025.
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